Books: A Woodland Queen, v2
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Andre Theuriet >> A Woodland Queen, v2
"Were you there, Monsieur de Buxieres?" she exclaimed; "come inside the
courtyard! Don't be afraid; they have finished their meal. Those are my
boarders," she added, pointing to the birds, which, one by one, were
taking their flight across the fields. "Ever since the first fall of
snow, I have been distributing grain to them once a day. I think they
must tell one another under the trees there, for every day their number
increases. But I don't complain of that. Just think, these are not
birds of passage; they do not leave us at the first cold blast, to find a
warmer climate; the least we can do is to recompense them by feeding them
when the weather is too severe! Several know me already, and are very
tame. There is a blackbird in particular, and a blue tomtit, that are
both extremely saucy!"
These remarks were of a nature to please Julien. They went straight to
the heart of the young mystic; they recalled to his mind St. Francis of
Assisi, preaching to the fish and conversing with the birds, and he felt
an increase of sympathy for this singular young girl. He would have
liked to find a pretext for remaining longer with her, but his natural
timidity in the presence of women paralyzed his tongue, and, already,
fearing he should be thought intruding, he had raised his hat to take
leave, when Reine addressed him:
"I do not ask you to come into the house, because I am obliged to go to
the sale of the Ronces woods, in order to speak to the men who are
cultivating the little lot that we have bought. I wager, Monsieur de
Buxieres, that you are not yet acquainted with our woods?"
"That is true," he replied, smiling.
"Very well, if you will accompany me, I will show you the canton they are
about to develop. It will not be time lost, for it will be a good thing
for the people who are working for you to know that you are interested in
their labors."
Julien replied that he should be happy to be under her guidance.
"In that case," said Reine, "wait for me here. I shall be back in a
moment."
She reappeared a few minutes later, wearing a white hood with a cape, and
a knitted woolen shawl over her shoulders.
"This way!" said she, showing a path that led across the pasture-lands.
They walked along silently at first. The sky was clear, the wind had
freshened. Suddenly, as if by enchantment, the fog, which had hung over
the forest, became converted into needles of ice. Each tree was powdered
over with frozen snow, and on the hillsides overshadowing the valley the
massive tufts of forest were veiled in a bluish-white vapor.
Never had Julien de Buxieres been so long in tete-a-tete with a young
woman. The extreme solitude, the surrounding silence, rendered this dual
promenade more intimate and also more embarrassing to a young man who was
alarmed at the very thought of a female countenance. His ecclesiastical
education had imbued Julien with very rigorous ideas as to the careful
and reserved behavior which should be maintained between the sexes, and
his intercourse with the world had been too infrequent for the idea to
have been modified in any appreciable degree. It was natural, therefore,
that this walk across the fields in the company of Reine should assume an
exaggerated importance in his eyes. He felt himself troubled and yet
happy in the chance afforded him to become more closely acquainted with
this young girl, toward whom a secret sympathy drew him more and more.
But he did not know how to begin conversation, and the more he cudgelled
his brains to find a way of opening the attack, the more he found himself
at sea. Once more Reine came to his assistance.
"Well, Monsieur de Buxieres," said she, "do matters go more to your
liking now? You have acted most generously toward Claudet, and he ought
to be pleased."
"Has he spoken to you, then?"
"No; not himself, but good news, like bad, flies fast, and all the
villagers are singing your praises."
"I only did a very simple and just thing," replied Julien.
"Precisely, but those are the very things that are the hardest to do.
And according as they are done well or ill, so is the person that does
them judged by others."
"You have thought favorably of me then, Mademoiselle Vincart," he
ventured, with a timid smile.
"Yes; but my opinion is of little importance. You must be pleased with
yourself--that is more essential. I am sure that it must be pleasanter
now for you to live at Vivey?"
"Hm!--more bearable, certainly."
The conversation languished again. As they approached the confines of
the farm they heard distant barking, and then the voices of human beings.
Finally two gunshots broke on the air.
"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Reine, listening, "the Auberive Society is following
the hounds, and Claudet must be one of the party. How is it you were not
with them?"
"Claudet took me there, and I was at the breakfast--but, Mademoiselle,
I confess that that kind of amusement is not very tempting to me. At the
first opportunity I made my escape, and left the party to themselves."
"Well, now, to be frank with you, you were wrong. Those gentlemen will
feel aggrieved, for they are very sensitive. You see, when one has to
live with people, one must yield to their customs, and not pooh-pooh
their amusements."
"You are saying exactly what Claudet said last night."
"Claudet was right."
"What am I to do? The chase has no meaning for me. I can not feel any
interest in the butchery of miserable animals that are afterward sent
back to their quarters."
"I can understand that you do not care for the chase for its own sake;
but the ride in the open air, in the open forest? Our forests are so
beautiful--look there, now! does not that sight appeal to you?"
From the height they had now gained, they could see all over the valley,
illuminated at intervals by the pale rays of the winter sun. Wherever
its light touched the brushwood, the frosty leaves quivered like
diamonds, while a milky cloud enveloped the parts left in shadow. Now
and then, a slight breeze stirred the branches, causing a shower of
sparkling atoms to rise in the air, like miniature rainbows. The entire
forest seemed clothed in the pure, fairy-like robes of a virgin bride.
"Yes, that is beautiful," admitted Julien, hesitatingly; "I do not think
I ever saw anything similar: at any rate, it is you who have caused me to
notice it for the first time. But," continued he, "as the sun rises
higher, all this phantasmagoria will melt and vanish. The beauty of
created things lasts only a moment, and serves as a warning for us not to
set our hearts on things that perish."
Reine gazed at him with astonishment.
"Do you really think so?" exclaimed she: "that is very sad, and I do not
know enough to give an opinion. All I know is, that if God has created
such beautiful things it is in order that we may enjoy them. And that is
the reason why I worship these woods with all my heart. Ah! if you could
only see them in the month of June, when the foliage is at its fulness.
Flowers everywhere--yellow, blue, crimson! Music also everywhere--the
song of birds, the murmuring of waters, and the balmy scents in the air.
Then there are the lime-trees, the wild cherry, and the hedges red with
strawberries--it is intoxicating. And, whatever you may say, Monsieur de
Buxieres, I assure you that the beauty of the forest is not a thing to be
despised. Every season it is renewed: in autumn, when the wild fruits
and tinted leaves contribute their wealth of color; in winter, with its
vast carpets of snow, from which the tall ash springs to such a stately
height-look, now! up there!"
They were in the depths of the forest. Before them were colonnades of
slim, graceful trees, rising in one unbroken line toward the skies, their
slender branches forming a dark network overhead, and their lofty
proportions lessening in the distance, until lost in the solemn gloom
beyond. A religious silence prevailed, broken only by the occasional
chirp of the wren, or the soft pattering of some smaller fourfooted race.
"How beautiful!" exclaimed Reine, with animation; "one might imagine
one's self in a cathedral! Oh! how I love the forest; a feeling of awe
and devotion comes over me, and makes me want to kneel down and pray!"
Julien looked at her with an uneasy kind of admiration. She was walking
slowly now, grave and thoughtful, as if in church. Her white hood had
fallen on her shoulders, and her hair, slightly stirred by the wind,
floated like a dark aureole around her pale face. Her luminous eyes
gleamed between the double fringes of her eyelids, and her mobile
nostrils quivered with suppressed emotion. As she passed along, the
brambles from the wayside, intermixed with ivy, and other hardy plants,
caught on the hem of her dress and formed a verdant train, giving her the
appearance of the high-priestess of some mysterious temple of Nature.
At this moment, she identified herself so perfectly with her nickname,
"queen of the woods," that Julien, already powerfully affected by her
peculiar and striking style of beauty, began to experience a
superstitious dread of her influence. His Catholic scruples, or the
remembrance of certain pious lectures administered in his childhood,
rendered him distrustful, and he reproached himself for the interest he
took in the conversation of this seductive creature. He recalled the
legends of temptations to which the Evil One used to subject the
anchorites of old, by causing to appear before them the attractive but
illusive forms of the heathen deities. He wondered whether he were not
becoming the sport of the same baleful influence; if, like the Lamias and
Dryads of antiquity, this queen of the woods were not some spirit of the
elements, incarnated in human form and sent to him for the purpose of
dragging his soul down to perdition.
In this frame of mind he followed in her footsteps, cautiously, and at a
distance, when she suddenly turned, as if waiting for him to rejoin her.
He then perceived that they had reached the end of the copse, and before
them lay an open space, on which the cut lumber lay in cords, forming
dark heaps on the frosty ground. Here and there were allotments of
chosen trees and poles, among which a thin spiral of smoke indicated the
encampment of the cutters. Reine made straight for them, and immediately
presented the new owner of the chateau to the workmen. They made their
awkward obeisances, scrutinizing him in the mistrustful manner customary
with the peasants of mountainous regions when they meet strangers. The
master workman then turned to Reine, replying to her remarks in a
respectful but familiar tone:
"Make yourself easy, mamselle, we shall do our best and rush things in
order to get through with the work. Besides, if you will come this way
with me, you will see that there is no idling; we are just now going to
fell an oak, and before a quarter of an hour is over it will be lying on
the ground, cut off as neatly as if with a razor."
They drew near the spot where the first strokes of the axe were already
resounding. The giant tree did not seem affected by them, but remained
haughty and immovable. Then the blows redoubled until the trunk began to
tremble from the base to the summit, like a living thing. The steel had
made the bark, the sapwood, and even the core of the tree, fly in
shivers; but the oak had resumed its impassive attitude, and bore
stoically the assaults of the workmen. Looking upward, as it reared its
proud and stately head, one would have affirmed that it never could fall.
Suddenly the woodsmen fell back; there was a moment of solemn and
terrible suspense; then the enormous trunk heaved and plunged down among
the brushwood with an alarming crash of breaking branches. A sound as of
lamentation rumbled through the icy forest, and then all was still.
The men, with unconscious emotion, stood contemplating the monarch oak
lying prostrate on the ground. Reine had turned pale; her dark eyes
glistened with tears.
"Let us go," murmured she to Julien; "this death of a tree affects me as
if it were that of a Christian."
They took leave of the woodsmen, and reentered the forest. Reine kept
silence and her companion was at a loss to resume the conversation; so
they journeyed along together quietly until they reached a border line,
whence they could perceive the smoke from the roofs of Vivey.
"You have only to go straight down the hill to reach your home," said
she, briefly; "au revoir, Monsieur de Buxieres."
Thus they quitted each other, and, looking back, he saw that she
slackened her speed and went dreamily on in the direction of Planche-au-
Vacher.
CHAPTER V
LOVE'S INDISCRETION
In the mountainous region of Langres, spring can hardly be said to appear
before the end of May. Until that time the cold weather holds its own;
the white frosts, and the sharp, sleety April showers, as well as the
sudden windstorms due to the malign influence of the ice-gods, arrest
vegetation, and only a few of the more hardy plants venture to put forth
their trembling shoots until later. But, as June approaches and the
earth becomes warmed through by the sun, a sudden metamorphosis is
effected. Sometimes a single night is sufficient for the floral spring
to burst forth in all its plenitude. The hedges are alive with lilies
and woodruffs; the blue columbines shake their foolscap-like blossoms
along the green side-paths; the milky spikes of the Virgin plant rise
slender and tall among the bizarre and many-colored orchids. Mile after
mile, the forest unwinds its fairy show of changing scenes. Sometimes
one comes upon a spot of perfect verdure; at other times one wanders in
almost complete darkness under the thick interlacing boughs of the
ashtrees, through which occasional gleams of light fall on the dark soil
or on the spreading ferns. Now the wanderer emerges upon an open space
so full of sunshine that the strawberries are already ripening; near them
are stacked the tender young trees, ready for spacing, and the billets of
wood piled up and half covered with thistle and burdock leaves; and a
little farther away, half hidden by tall weeds, teeming with insects,
rises the peaked top of the woodsman's hut. Here one walks beside deep,
grassy trenches, which appear to continue without end, along the forest
level; farther, the wild mint and the centaurea perfume the shady nooks,
the oaks and lime-trees arch their spreading branches, and the
honeysuckle twines itself round the knotty shoots of the hornbeam, whence
the thrush gives forth her joyous, sonorous notes.
Not only in the forest, but also in the park belonging to the chateau,
and in the village orchards, spring had donned a holiday costume.
Through the open windows, between the massive bunches of lilacs,
hawthorn, and laburnum blossoms, Julien de Buxieres caught glimpses of
rolling meadows and softly tinted vistas. The gentle twittering of the
birds and the mysterious call of the cuckoo, mingled with the perfume of
flowers, stole into his study, and produced a sense of enjoyment as novel
to him as it was delightful. Having until the present time lived a
sedentary life in cities, he had had no opportunity of experiencing this
impression of nature in her awakening and luxuriant aspect; never had he
felt so completely under the seductive influence of the goddess Maia than
at this season when the abundant sap exudes in a white foam from the
trunk of the willow; when between the plant world and ourselves a
magnetic current seems to exist, which seeks to wed their fraternizing
emanations with our own personality. He was oppressed by the vividness
of the verdure, intoxicated with the odor of vegetation, agitated by the
confused music of the birds, and in this May fever of excitement, his
thoughts wandered with secret delight to Reine Vincart, to this queen of
the woods, who was the personification of all the witchery of the forest.
Since their January promenade in the glades of Charbonniere, he had seen
her at a distance, sometimes on Sundays in the little church at Vivey,
sometimes like a fugitive apparition at the turn of a road. They had
also exchanged formal salutations, but had not spoken to each other.
More than once, after the night had fallen, Julien had stopped in front
of the courtyard of La Thuiliere, and watched the lamps being lighted
inside. But he had not ventured to knock at the door of the house; a
foolish timidity had prevented him; so he had returned to the chateau,
dissatisfied and reproaching himself for allowing his awkward shyness to
interpose, as it were, a wall of ice between himself and the only person
whose acquaintance seemed to him desirable.
At other times he would become alarmed at the large place a woman
occupied in his thoughts, and he congratulated himself on having resisted
the dangerous temptation of seeing Mademoiselle Vincart again. He
acknowledged that this singular girl had for him an attraction against
which he ought to be on his guard. Reine might be said to live alone at
La Thuiliere, for her father could hardly be regarded seriously as a
protector. Julien's visits might have compromised her, and the young
man's severe principles of rectitude forbade him to cause scandal which
he could not repair. He was not thinking of marriage, and even had his
thoughts inclined that way, the proprieties and usages of society which
he had always in some degree respected, would not allow him to wed a
peasant girl. It was evident, therefore, that both prudence and
uprightness would enjoin him to carry on any future relations with
Mademoiselle Vincart with the greatest possible reserve.
Nevertheless, and in spite of these sage reflections, the enchanting
image of Reine haunted him more than was at all reasonable. Often,
during his hours of watchfulness, he would see her threading the avenues
of the forest, her dark hair half floating in the breeze, and wearing her
white hood and her skirt bordered with ivy. Since the spring had
returned, she had become associated in his mind with all the magical
effects of nature's renewal. He discovered the liquid light of her dark
eyes in the rippling darkness of the streams; the lilies recalled the
faintly tinted paleness of her cheeks; the silene roses, scattered
throughout the hedges, called forth the remembrance of the young maiden's
rosy lips, and the vernal odor of the leaves appeared to him like an
emanation of her graceful and wholesome nature.
This state of feeling began to act like an obsession, a sort of
witchcraft, which alarmed him. What was she really, this strange
creature? A peasant indeed, apparently; but there was also something
more refined and cultivated about her, due, doubtless, to her having
received her education in a city school. She both felt and expressed
herself differently from ordinary country girls, although retaining the
frankness and untutored charm of rustic natures. She exercised an uneasy
fascination over Julien, and at times he returned to the superstitious
impression made upon him by Reine's behavior and discourse in the forest.
He again questioned with himself whether this female form, in its untamed
beauty, did not enfold some spirit of temptation, some insidious fairy,
similar to the Melusine, who appeared to Count Raymond in the forest of
Poitiers.
Most of the time he would himself laugh at this extravagant supposition,
but, while endeavoring to make light of his own cowardice, the idea still
haunted and tormented him. Sometimes, in the effort to rid himself of
the persistence of his own imagination, he would try to exorcise the
demon who had got hold of him, and this exorcism consisted in despoiling
the image of his temptress of the veil of virginal purity with which his
admiration had first invested her. Who could assure him, after all, that
this girl, with her independent ways, living alone at her farm, running
through the woods at all hours, was as irreproachable as he had imagined?
In the village, certainly, she was respected by all; but people were very
tolerant--very easy, in fact--on the question of morals in this district,
where the gallantries of Claude de Buxieres were thought quite natural,
where the illegitimacy of Claudet offended no one's sense of the
proprieties, and where the after-dinner conversations, among the class
considered respectable, were such as Julien had listened to with
repugnance. Nevertheless, even in his most suspicious moods, Julien had
never dared broach the subject to Claudet.
Every time that the name of Reine Vincart had come to his lips, a feeling
of bashfulness, in addition to his ordinary timidity, had prevented him
from interrogating Claudet concerning the character of this mysterious
queen of the woods. Like all novices in love-affairs Julien dreaded that
his feelings should be divined, at the mere mention of the young girl's
name. He preferred to remain isolated, concentrating in himself his
desires, his trouble and his doubts.
Yet, whatever efforts he made, and however firmly he adhered to his
resolution of silence, the hypochondria from which he suffered could not
escape the notice of the 'grand chasserot'. He was not clear-sighted
enough to discern the causes, but he could observe the effects. It
provoked him to find that all his efforts to enliven his cousin had
proved futile. He had cudgelled his brains to comprehend whence came
these fits of terrible melancholy, and, judging Julien by himself, came
to the conclusion that his ennui proceeded from an excess of strictness
and good behavior.
"Monsieur de Buxieres," said he, one evening when they were walking
silently, side by side, in the avenues of the park, which resounded with
the song of the nightingales, "there is one thing that troubles me, and
that is that you do not confide in me."
"What makes you think so, Claudet?" demanded Julien, with surprise.
"Paybleu! the way you act. You are, if I may say so, too secretive.
When you wanted to make amends for Claude de Buxieres's negligence, and
proposed that I should live here with you, I accepted without any
ceremony. I hoped that in giving me a place at your fire and your table,
you would also give me one in your affections, and that you would allow
me to share your sorrows, like a true brother comrade--"
"I assure you, my dear fellow, that you are mistaken. If I had any
serious trouble on my mind, you should be the first to know it."
"Oh! that's all very well to say; but you are unhappy all the same--one
can see it in your mien, and shall I tell you the reason? It is that you
are too sedate, Monsieur de Buxieres; you have need of a sweetheart to
brighten up your days."
"Ho, ho!" replied Julien, coloring, "do you wish to have me married,
Claudet?"
"Ah! that's another affair. No; but still I should like to see you take
some interest in a woman--some gay young person who would rouse you up
and make you have a good time. There is no lack of such in the district,
and you would only have the trouble of choosing."
M. de Buxieres's color deepened, and he was visibly annoyed.
"That is a singular proposition," exclaimed he, after awhile; "do you
take me for a libertine?"
"Don't get on your high horse, Monsieur de Buxieres! There would be no
one hurt. The girls I allude to are not so difficult to approach."
"That has nothing to do with it, Claudet; I do not enjoy that kind of
amusement."
"It is the kind that young men of our age indulge in, all the same.
Perhaps you think there would be difficulties in the way. They would not
be insurmountable, I can assure you; those matters go smoothly enough
here. You slip your arm round her waist, give her a good, sounding
salute, and the acquaintance is begun. You have only to improve it!"
"Enough of this," interrupted Julien, harshly, "we never can agree on
such topics!"
"As you please, Monsieur de Buxieres; since you do not like the subject,
we will not bring it up again. If I mentioned it at all, it was that I
saw you were not interested in either hunting or fishing, and thought you
might prefer some other kind of game. I do wish I knew what to propose
that would give you a little pleasure," continued Claudet, who was
profoundly mortified at the ill-success of his overtures. "Now! I have
it. Will you come with me to-morrow, to the Ronces woods? The charcoal-
dealers who are constructing their furnaces for the sale, will complete
their dwellings this evening and expect to celebrate in the morning.
They call it watering the bouquet, and it is the occasion of a little
festival, to which we, as well at the presiding officials of the cutting,
are invited. Naturally, the guests pay their share in bottles of wine.
You can hardly be excused from showing yourself among these good people.
It is one of the customs of the country. I have promised to be there,
and it is certain that Reine Vincart, who has bought the Ronces property,
will not fail to be present at the ceremony."