THREE SHORT WORKS

by

GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

The Dance of DeathThe Legend of Saint-Julian the HospitallerA Simple Soul

THE DANCE OF DEATH

_(1838)_

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"Many words for few things!""Death ends all; judgment comes to all. "

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[This work may be called a prose poem. It is impregnated with thespirit of romanticism, which at the time of writing had atemporary but powerful hold on the mind of Gustave Flaubert. ]

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DEATH SPEAKS

At night, in winter, when the snow-flakes fall slowly from heavenlike great white tears, I raise my voice; its resonance thrillsthe cypress trees and makes them bud anew. 

I pause an instant in my swift course over earth; throw myselfdown among cold tombs; and, while dark-plumaged birds risesuddenly in terror from my side, while the dead slumberpeacefully, while cypress branches droop low o'er my head, whileall around me weeps or lies in deep repose, my burning eyes reston the great white clouds, gigantic winding-sheets, unrollingtheir slow length across the face of heaven. 

How many nights, and years, and ages have I journeyed thus! Awitness of the universal birth and of a like decay; Innumerableare the generations I have garnered with my scythe. Like God, I ameternal! The nurse of Earth, I cradle it each night upon a bedboth soft and warm. The same recurring feasts; the same unendingtoil! Each morning I depart, each evening I return, bearing withinmy mantle's ample folds all that my scythe has gathered. And thenI scatter them to the four winds of Heaven!

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When the high billows run, when the heavens weep, and shriekingwinds lash ocean into madness, then in the turmoil and the tumultdo I fling myself upon the surging waves, and lo! the tempestsoftly cradles me, as in her hammock sways a queen. The foamingwaters cool my weary feet, burning from bathing in the fallingtears of countless generations that have clung to them in vainendeavour to arrest my steps. 

Then, when the storm has ceased, after its roar has calmed me likea lullaby, I bow my head: the hurricane, raging in fury but amoment earlier dies instantly. No longer does it live, but neitherdo the men, the ships, the navies that lately sailed upon thebosom of the waters. 

'Mid all that I have seen and known, --peoples and thrones, loves, glories, sorrows, virtues--what have I ever loved? Nothing--exceptthe mantling shroud that covers me!

My horse! ah, yes! my horse! I love thee too! How thou rushesto'er the world! thy hoofs of steel resounding on the heads bruisedby thy speeding feet. Thy tail is straight and crisp, thine eyesdart flames, the mane upon thy neck flies in the wind, as on wedash upon our maddened course. Never art thou weary! Never do werest! Never do we sleep! Thy neighing portends war; thy smokingnostrils spread a pestilence that, mist-like, hovers over earth. Where'er my arrows fly, thou overturnest pyramids and empires, trampling crowns beneath thy hoofs; All men respect thee; nay, adore thee! To invoke thy favour, popes offer thee their triplecrowns, and kings their sceptres; peoples, their secret sorrows;poets, their renown. All cringe and kneel before thee, yet thourushest on over their prostrate forms. 

Ah, noble steed! Sole gift from heaven! Thy tendons are of iron, thy head is of bronze. Thou canst pursue thy course for centuriesas swiftly as if borne up by eagle's wings; and when, once in athousand years, resistless hunger comes, thy food is human flesh, thy drink, men's tears. My steed! I love thee as Pale Death alonecan love!

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Ah! I have lived so long! How many things I know! How manymysteries of the universe are shut within my breast!

Sometimes, after I have hurled a myriad of darts, and, aftercoursing o'er the world on my pale horse, have gathered manylives, a weariness assails me, and I long to rest. 

But on my work must go; my path I must pursue; it leads throughinfinite space and all the worlds. I sweep away men's planstogether with their triumphs, their loves together with theircrimes, their very all. 

I rend my winding-sheet; a frightful craving tortures meincessantly, as if some serpent stung continually within. 

I throw a backward glance, and see the smoke of fiery ruins leftbehind; the darkness of the night; the agony of the world. I seethe graves that are the work of these, my hands; I see thebackground of the past--'tis nothingness! My weary body, heavyhead, and tired feet, sink, seeking rest. My eyes turn towards aglowing horizon, boundless, immense, seeming to grow increasinglyin height and depth. I shall devour it, as I have devoured allelse. 

When, O God! shall I sleep in my turn? When wilt Thou ceasecreating? When may I, digging my own grave, stretch myself outwithin my tomb, and, swinging thus upon the world, list the lastbreath, the death-gasp, of expiring nature?

When that time comes, away my darts and shroud I'll hurl. Thenshall I free my horse, and he shall graze upon the grass thatgrows upon the Pyramids, sleep in the palaces of emperors, drinkthe last drop of water from the sea, and snuff the odour of thelast slow drop of blood! By day, by night, through the countlessages, he shall roam through fields eternal as the fancy takes him;shall leap with one great bound from Atlas to the Himalayas; shallcourse, in his insolent pride, from heaven to earth; disporthimself by caracoling in the dust of crumbled empires; shall speedacross the beds of dried-up oceans; shall bound o'er ruins ofenormous cities; inhale the void with swelling chest, and roll andstretch at ease. 

Then haply, faithful one, weary as I, thou finally shalt seek someprecipice from which to cast thyself; shalt halt, panting beforethe mysterious ocean of infinity; and then, with foaming mouth, dilated nostrils, and extended neck turned towards the horizon, thou shalt, as I, pray for eternal sleep; for repose for thy fieryfeet; for a bed of green leaves, whereon reclining thou canstclose thy burning eyes forever. There, waiting motionless upon thebrink, thou shalt desire a power stronger than thyself to killthee at a single blow--shalt pray for union with the dying storm, the faded flower, the shrunken corpse. Thou shalt seek sleep, because eternal life is torture, and the tomb is peace. 

Why are we here? What hurricane has hurled us into this abyss?What tempest soon shall bear us away towards the forgotten planetswhence we came?

Till then, my glorious steed, thou shalt run thy course; thoumayst please thine ear with the crunching of the heads crushedunder thy feet. Thy course is long, but courage! Long time hastthou carried me: but longer time still must elapse, and yet weshall not age. 

Stars may be quenched, the mountains crumble, the earth finallywear away its diamond axis; but we two, we alone are immortal, forthe impalpable lives forever!

But to-day them canst lie at my feet, and polish thy teeth againstthe moss-grown tombs, for Satan has abandoned me, and a powerunknown compels me to obey his will. Lo! the dead seek to risefrom their graves. 

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Satan, I love thee! Thou alone canst comprehend my joys and mydeliriums. But, more fortunate than I, thou wilt some day, whenearth shall be no more, recline and sleep within the realms ofspace. 

But I, who have lived so long, have worked so ceaselessly, withonly virtuous loves and solemn thoughts, --I must endureimmortality. Man has his tomb, and glory its oblivion; the daydies into night but I--!

And I am doomed to lasting solitude upon my way, strewn with thebones of men and marked by ruins. Angels have fellow-angels;demons their companions of darkness; but I hear only sounds of aclanking scythe, my whistling arrows, and my speeding horse. Always the echo of the surging billows that sweep over and engulfmankind!

SATAN. 

Dost thou complain, --thou, the most fortunate creature underheaven? The only, splendid, great, unchangeable, eternal one--likeGod, who is the only Being that equals thee! Dost thou repine, whosome day in thy turn shalt disappear forever, after thou hastcrushed the universe beneath thy horse's feet?

When God's work of creating has ceased; when the heavens havedisappeared and the stars are quenched; when spirits rise fromtheir retreats and wander in the depths with sighs and groans;then, what unpicturable delight for thee! Then shalt thou sit onthe eternal thrones of heaven and of hell--shalt overthrow theplanets, stars, and worlds--shalt loose thy steed in fields ofemeralds and diamonds--shalt make his litter of the wings tornfrom the angels, --shalt cover him with the robe of righteousness!Thy saddle shall be broidered with the stars of the empyrean, --andthen thou wilt destroy it! After thou hast annihilated everything, --when naught remains but empty space, --thy coffin shattered andthine arrows broken, then make thyself a crown of stone fromheaven's highest mount, and cast thyself into the abyss of oblivion. Thy fall may last a million aeons, but thou shalt die at last. Because the world must end; all, all must die, --except Satan!Immortal more than God! I live to bring chaos into other worlds!

DEATH. 

But thou hast not, as I, this vista of eternal nothingness beforethee; thou dost not suffer with this death-like cold, as I. 

SATAN. 

Nay, but I quiver under fierce and unrelaxing hearts of moltenlava, which burn the doomed and which e'en I cannot escape. 

For thou, at least, hast only to destroy. But I bring birth and Igive life. I direct empires and govern the affairs of States andof hearts. 

I must be everywhere. The precious metals flow, the diamondsglitter, and men's names resound at my command. I whisper in theears of women, of poets, and of statesmen, words of love, ofglory, of ambition. With Messalina and Nero, at Paris and atBabylon, within the self-same moment do I dwell. Let a new islandbe discovered, I fly to it ere man can set foot there; though itbe but a rock encircled by the sea, I am there in advance of menwho will dispute for its possession. I lounge, at the sameinstant, on a courtesan's couch and on the perfumed beds ofemperors. Hatred and envy, pride and wrath, pour from my lips insimultaneous utterance. By night and day I work. While men ateburning Christians, I luxuriate voluptuously in baths perfumedwith roses; I race in chariots; yield to deep despair; or boastaloud in pride. 

At times I have believed that I embodied the whole world, and allthat I have seen took place, in verity, within my being. 

Sometimes I weary, lose my reason, and indulge in such mad folliesthat the most worthless of my minions ridicule me while they pityme. 

No creature cares for me; nowhere am I loved, --neither in heaven, of which I am a son, nor yet in hell, where I am lord, nor uponearth, where men deem me a god. Naught do I see but paroxysms ofrage, rivers of blood, or maddened frenzy. Ne'er shall my eyelidsclose in slumber, never my spirit find repose, whilst thou, atleast, canst rest thy head upon the cool, green freshness of thegrave. Yea, I must ever dwell amid the glare of palaces, mustlisten to the curses of the starving, or inhale the stench ofcrimes that cry aloud to heaven. 

God, whom I hate, has punished me indeed! But my soul is greatereven than His wrath; in one deep sigh I could the whole world drawinto my breast, where it would burn eternally, even as I. 

When, Lord, shall thy great trumpet sound? Then a great harmonyshall hover over sea and hill. Ah! would that I could suffer withhumanity; their cries and sobs should drown the sound of mine!

[_Innumerable skeletons, riding in chariots, advance at a rapidpace, with cries of joy and triumph. They drag broken branches andcrowns of laurel, from which the dried and yellow leaves fallcontinually in the wind and the dust. _]

Lo, a triumphal throng from Rome, the Eternal City! Her Coliseumand her Capitol are now two grains of sands that served once as apedestal; but Death has swung his scythe: the monuments havefallen. Behold! At their head comes Nero, pride of my heart, thegreatest poet earth has known!

[_Nero advances in a chariot drawn by twelve skeleton horses. With the sceptre in his hand, he strikes the bony backs of hissteeds. He stands erect, his shroud flapping behind him in billowyfolds. He turns, as if upon a racecourse; his eyes are flaming andhe cries loudly:_]

NERO. 

Quick! Quick! And faster still, until your feet dash fire from theflinty stones and your nostrils fleck your breasts with foam. What! do not the wheels smoke yet? Hear ye the fanfares, whosesound reached even to Ostia; the clapping of the hands, the criesof joy? See how the populace shower saffron on my head! See how mypathway is already damp with sprayed perfume! My chariot whirlson; the pace is swifter than the wind as I shake the golden reins!Faster and faster! The dust clouds rise; my mantle floats upon thebreeze, which in my ears sings "Triumph! triumph!" Faster andfaster! Hearken to the shouts of joy, list to the stamping feetand the plaudits of the multitude. Jupiter himself looks down onus from heaven. Faster! yea, faster still!

[_Nero's chariot now seems to be drawn by demons: a black cloudof dust and smoke envelops him; in his erratic course he crashesinto tombs, and the re-awakened corpses are crushed under thewheels of the chariot, which now turns, comes forward, andstops. _]

NERO. 

Now, let six hundred of my women dance the Grecian Dances silentlybefore me, the while I lave myself with roses in a bath ofporphyry. Then let them circle me, with interlacing arms, that Imay see on all sides alabaster forms in graceful evolution, swaying like tall reeds bending over an amorous pool. 

And I will give the empire and the sea, the Senate, the Olympus, the Capitol, to her who shall embrace me the most ardently; to herwhose heart shall throb beneath my own; to her who shall enmesh mein her flowing hair, smile on me sweetest, and enfold me in thewarmest clasp; to her who soothing me with songs of love shallwaken me to joy and heights of rapture! Rome shall be still thisnight; no barque shall cleave the waters of the Tiber, since 'tismy wish to see the mirrored moon on its untroubled face and hearthe voice of woman floating over it. Let perfumed breezes passthrough all my draperies! Ah, I would die, voluptuously intoxicated. 

Then, while I eat of some rare meat, that only I may taste, letsome one sing, while damsels, lightly draped, serve me from platesof gold and watch my rest. One slave shall cut her sister'sthroat, because it is my pleasure--a favourite with the gods--tomingle the perfume of blood with that of food, and cries ofvictims soothe my nerves. 

This night I shall burn Rome. The flames shall light up heaven, and Tiber shall roll in waves of fire!

Then, I shall build of aloes wood a stage to float upon theItalian sea, and the Roman populace shall throng thereto chantingmy praise. Its draperies shall be of purple, and on it I shallhave a bed of eagles' plumage. There I shall sit, and at my sideshall be the loveliest woman in the empire, while all the universeapplauds the achievements of a god! And though the tempest roarround me, its rage shall be extinguished 'neath my feet, andsounds of music shall o'ercome the clamor of the waves!

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What didst thou say? Vindex revolts, my legions fly, my women fleein terror? Silence and tears alone remain, and I hear naught butthe rolling of thunder. Must I die, now?

DEATH. 

Instantly!

NERO. 

Must I give up my days of feasting and delight, my spectacles, mytriumphs, my chariots and the applause of multitudes?

DEATH. 

All! All!

SATAN. 

Haste, Master of the World! One comes--One who will put thee tothe sword. An emperor knows how to die!

NERO. 

Die! I have scarce begun to live! Oh, what great deeds I shouldaccomplish--deeds that should make Olympus tremble! I would fillup the bed of hoary ocean and speed across it in a triumphal car. I would still live--would see the sun once more, the Tiber, theCampagna, the Circus on the golden sands. Ah! let me live!

DEATH. 

I will give thee a mantle for the tomb, and an eternal bed thatshall be softer and more peaceful than the Imperial couch. 

NERO. 

Yet, I am loth to die. 

DEATH. 

Die, then!

[_He gathers up the shroud, lying beside him on the ground, andbears away Nero--wrapped in its folds. _]

THE LEGEND OF SAINT JULIAN THE HOSPITALLER

CHAPTER I

THE CURSE

Julian's father and mother dwelt in a castle built on the slope ofa hill, in the heart of the woods. 

The towers at its four corners had pointed roofs covered withleaden tiles, and the foundation rested upon solid rocks, whichdescended abruptly to the bottom of the moat. 

In the courtyard, the stone flagging was as immaculate as thefloor of a church. Long rain-spouts, representing dragons withyawning jaws, directed the water towards the cistern, and on eachwindow-sill of the castle a basil or a heliotrope bush bloomed, inpainted flower-pots. 

A second enclosure, surrounded by a fence, comprised afruit-orchard, a garden decorated with figures wrought inbright-hued flowers, an arbour with several bowers, and a mallfor the diversion of the pages. On the other side were the kennel, the stables, the bakery, the wine-press and the barns. Aroundthese spread a pasture, also enclosed by a strong hedge. 

Peace had reigned so long that the portcullis was never lowered;the moats were filled with water; swallows built their nests inthe cracks of the battlements, and as soon as the sun shone toostrongly, the archer who all day long paced to and fro on thecurtain, withdrew to the watch-tower and slept soundly. 

Inside the castle, the locks on the doors shone brightly; costlytapestries hung in the apartments to keep out the cold; theclosets overflowed with linen, the cellar was filled with casks ofwine, and the oak chests fairly groaned under the weight ofmoney-bags. 

In the armoury could be seen, between banners and the heads ofwild beasts, weapons of all nations and of all ages, from theslings of the Amalekites and the javelins of the Garamantes, tothe broad-swords of the Saracens and the coats of mail of theNormans. 

The largest spit in the kitchen could hold an ox; the chapel wasas gorgeous as a king's oratory. There was even a Roman bath in asecluded part of the castle, though the good lord of the manorrefrained from using it, as he deemed it a heathenish practice. 

Wrapped always in a cape made of fox-skins, he wandered about thecastle, rendered justice among his vassals and settled hisneighbours' quarrels. In the winter, he gazed dreamily at thefalling snow, or had stories read aloud to him. But as soon as thefine weather returned, he would mount his mule and sally forthinto the country roads, edged with ripening wheat, to talk withthe peasants, to whom he distributed advice. After a number ofadventures he took unto himself a wife of high lineage. 

She was pale and serious, and a trifle haughty. The horns of herhead-dress touched the top of the doors and the hem of her gowntrailed far behind her. She conducted her household like acloister. Every morning she distributed work to the maids, supervised the making of preserves and unguents, and afterwardspassed her time in spinning, or in embroidering altar-cloths. Inresponse to her fervent prayers, God granted her a son!

Then there was great rejoicing; and they gave a feast which lastedthree days and four nights, with illuminations and soft music. Chickens as large as sheep, and the rarest spices were served; forthe entertainment of the guests, a dwarf crept out of a pie; andwhen the bowls were too few, for the crowd swelled continuously, the wine was drunk from helmets and hunting-horns. 

The young mother did not appear at the feast. She was quietlyresting in bed. One night she awoke, and beheld in a moonbeam thatcrept through the window something that looked like a movingshadow. It was an old man clad in sackcloth, who resembled ahermit. A rosary dangled at his side and he carried a beggar'ssack on his shoulder. He approached the foot of the bed, andwithout opening his lips said: "Rejoice, O mother! Thy son shallbe a saint. "

She would have cried out, but the old man, gliding along themoonbeam, rose through the air and disappeared. The songs of thebanqueters grew louder. She could hear angels' voices, and herhead sank back on the pillow, which was surmounted by the bone ofa martyr, framed in precious stones. 

The following day, the servants, upon being questioned, declared, to a man, that they had seen no hermit. Then, whether dream orfact, this must certainly have been a communication from heaven;but she took care not to speak of it, lest she should be accusedof presumption. 

The guests departed at daybreak, and Julian's father stood at thecastle gate, where he had just bidden farewell to the last one, when a beggar suddenly emerged from the mist and confronted him. He was a gipsy--for he had a braided beard and wore silverbracelets on each arm. His eyes burned and, in an inspired way, hemuttered some disconnected words: "Ah! Ah! thy son!--greatbloodshed--great glory--happy always--an emperor's family. "

Then he stooped to pick up the alms thrown to him, and disappearedin the tall grass. 

The lord of the manor looked up and down the road and called asloudly as he could. But no one answered him! The wind only howledand the morning mists were fast dissolving. 

He attributed his vision to a dullness of the brain resulting fromtoo much sleep. "If I should speak of it, " quoth he, "people wouldlaugh at me. " Still, the glory that was to be his son's dazzledhim, albeit the meaning of the prophecy was not clear to him, andhe even doubted that he had heard it. 

The parents kept their secret from each other. But both cherishedthe child with equal devotion, and as they considered him markedby God, they had great regard for his person. His cradle was linedwith the softest feathers, and lamp representing a dove burnedcontinually over it; three nurses rocked him night and day, andwith his pink cheeks and blue eyes, brocaded cloak and embroideredcap he looked like a little Jesus. He cut all his teeth withouteven a whimper. 

When he was seven years old his mother taught him to sing, and hisfather lifted him upon a tall horse, to inspire him with courage. The child smiled with delight, and soon became familiar witheverything pertaining to chargers. An old and very learned monktaught him the Gospel, the Arabic numerals, the Latin letters, andthe art of painting delicate designs on vellum. They worked in thetop of a tower, away from all noise and disturbance. 

When the lesson was over, they would go down into the garden andstudy the flowers. 

Sometimes a herd of cattle passed through the valley below, incharge of a man in Oriental dress. The lord of the manor, recognising him as a merchant, would despatch a servant after him. The stranger, becoming confident, would stop on his way and afterbeing ushered into the castle-hall, would display pieces of velvetand silk, trinkets and strange objects whose use was unknown inthose parts. Then, in due time, he would take leave, withouthaving been molested and with a handsome profit. 

At other times, a band of pilgrims would knock at the door. Theirwet garments would be hung in front of the hearth and after theyhad been refreshed by food they would relate their travels, anddiscuss the uncertainty of vessels on the high seas, their longjourneys across burning sands, the ferocity of the infidels, thecaves of Syria, the Manger and the Holy Sepulchre. They madepresents to the young heir of beautiful shells, which they carriedin their cloaks. 

The lord of the manor very often feasted his brothers-at-arms, andover the wine the old warriors would talk of battles and attacks, of war-machines and of the frightful wounds they had received, sothat Julian, who was a listener, would scream with excitement;then his father felt convinced that some day he would be aconqueror. But in the evening, after the Angelus, when he passedthrough the crowd of beggars who clustered about the church-door, he distributed his alms with so much modesty and nobility that hismother fully expected to see him become an archbishop in time. 

His seat in the chapel was next to his parents, and no matter howlong the services lasted, he remained kneeling on his _prie-dieu, _with folded hands and his velvet cap lying close beside him on thefloor. 

One day, during mass, he raised his head and beheld a little whitemouse crawling out of a hole in the wall. It scrambled to thefirst altar-step and then, after a few gambols, ran back in thesame direction. On the following Sunday, the idea of seeing themouse again worried him. It returned; and every Sunday after thathe watched for it; and it annoyed him so much that he grew to hateit and resolved to do away with it. 

So, having closed the door and strewn some crumbs on the steps ofthe altar, he placed himself in front of the hole with a stick. After a long while a pink snout appeared, and then whole mousecrept out. He struck it lightly with his stick and stood stunnedat the sight of the little, lifeless body. A drop of blood stainedthe floor. He wiped it away hastily with his sleeve, and pickingup the mouse, threw it away, without saying a word about it toanyone. 

All sorts of birds pecked at the seeds in the garden. He put somepeas in a hollow reed, and when he heard birds chirping in a tree, he would approach cautiously, lift the tube and swell his cheeks;then, when the little creatures dropped about him in multitudes, he could not refrain from laughing and being delighted with hisown cleverness. 

One morning, as he was returning by way of the curtain, he behelda fat pigeon sunning itself on the top of the wall. He paused togaze at it; where he stood the rampart was cracked and a piece ofstone was near at hand; he gave his arm a jerk and the well-aimedmissile struck the bird squarely, sending it straight into themoat below. 

He sprang after it, unmindful of the brambles, and ferreted aroundthe bushes with the litheness of a young dog. 

The pigeon hung with broken wings in the branches of a privethedge. 

The persistence of its life irritated the boy. He began tostrangle it, and its convulsions made his heart beat quicker, andfilled him with a wild, tumultuous voluptuousness, the last throbof its heart making him feel like fainting. 

At supper that night, his father declared that at his age a boyshould begin to hunt; and he arose and brought forth an oldwriting-book which contained, in questions and answers, everythingpertaining to the pastime. In it, a master showed a supposed pupilhow to train dogs and falcons, lay traps, recognise a stag by itsfumets, and a fox or a wolf by footprints. He also taught the bestway of discovering their tracks, how to start them, where theirrefuges are usually to be found, what winds are the mostfavourable, and further enumerated the various cries, and therules of the quarry. 

When Julian was able to recite all these things by heart, hisfather made up a pack of hounds for him. There were twenty-fourgreyhounds of Barbary, speedier than gazelles, but liable to getout of temper; seventeen couples of Breton dogs, great barkers, with broad chests and russet coats flecked with white. Forwild-boar hunting and perilous doublings, there were fortyboarhounds as hairy as bears. 

The red mastiffs of Tartary, almost as large as donkeys, withbroad backs and straight legs, were destined for the pursuit ofthe wild bull. The black coats of the spaniels shone like satin;the barking of the setters equalled that of the beagles. In aspecial enclosure were eight growling bloodhounds that tugged attheir chains and rolled their eyes, and these dogs leaped at men'sthroats and were not afraid even of lions. 

All ate wheat bread, drank from marble troughs, and hadhigh-sounding names. 

Perhaps the falconry surpassed the pack; for the master of thecastle, by paying great sums of money, had secured Caucasianhawks, Babylonian sakers, German gerfalcons, and pilgrim falconscaptured on the cliffs edging the cold seas, in distant lands. They were housed in a thatched shed and were chained to the perchin the order of size. In front of them was a little grass-plotwhere, from time to time, they were allowed to disport themselves. 

Bag-nets, baits, traps and all sorts of snares were manufactured. 

Often they would take out pointers who would set almostimmediately; then the whippers-in, advancing step by step, wouldcautiously spread a huge net over their motionless bodies. At thecommand, the dogs would bark and arouse the quails; and the ladiesof the neighbourhood, with their husbands, children and hand-maids, would fall upon them and capture them with ease. 

At other times they used a drum to start hares; and frequentlyfoxes fell into the ditches prepared for them, while wolves caughttheir paws in the traps. 

But Julian scorned these convenient contrivances; he preferred tohunt away from the crowd, alone with his steed and his falcon. Itwas almost always a large, snow-white, Scythian bird. His leatherhood was ornamented with a plume, and on his blue feet were bells;and he perched firmly on his master's arm while they gallopedacross the plains. Then Julian would suddenly untie his tether andlet him fly, and the bold bird would dart through the air like anarrow, One might perceive two spots circle around, unite, and thendisappear in the blue heights. Presently the falcon would returnwith a mutilated bird, and perch again on his master's gauntletwith trembling wings. 

Julian loved to sound his trumpet and follow his dogs over hillsand streams, into the woods; and when the stag began to moan undertheir teeth, he would kill it deftly, and delight in the fury ofthe brutes, which would devour the pieces spread out on the warmhide. 

On foggy days, he would hide in the marshes to watch for wildgeese, otters and wild ducks. 

At daybreak, three equerries waited for him at the foot of thesteps; and though the old monk leaned out of the dormer-window andmade signs to him to return, Julian would not look around. 

He heeded neither the broiling sun, the rain nor the storm; hedrank spring water and ate wild berries, and when he was tired, helay down under a tree; and he would come home at night coveredwith earth and blood, with thistles in his hair and smelling ofwild beasts. He grew to be like them. And when his mother kissedhim, he responded coldly to her caress and seemed to be thinkingof deep and serious things. 

He killed bears with a knife, bulls with a hatchet, and wild boarswith a spear; and once, with nothing but a stick, he defendedhimself against some wolves, which were gnawing corpses at thefoot of a gibbet. 

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One winter morning he set out before daybreak, with a bow slungacross his shoulder and a quiver of arrows attached to the pummelof his saddle. The hoofs of his steed beat the ground withregularity and his two beagles trotted close behind. The wind wasblowing hard and icicles clung to his cloak. A part of the horizoncleared, and he beheld some rabbits playing around their burrows. In an instant, the two dogs were upon them, and seizing as many asthey could, they broke their backs in the twinkling of an eye. 

Soon he came to a forest. A woodcock, paralysed by the cold, perched on a branch, with its head hidden under its wing. Julian, with a lunge of his sword, cut off its feet, and without stoppingto pick it up, rode away. 

Three hours later he found himself on the top of a mountain sohigh that the sky seemed almost black. In front of him, a long, flat rock hung over a precipice, and at the end two wild goatsstood gazing down into the abyss. As he had no arrows (for he hadleft his steed behind), he thought he would climb down to wherethey stood; and with bare feet and bent back he at last reachedthe first goat and thrust his dagger below its ribs. But thesecond animal, in its terror, leaped into the precipice. Julianthrew himself forward to strike it, but his right foot slipped, and he fell, face downward and with outstretched arms, over thebody of the first goat. 

After he returned to the plains, he followed a stream bordered bywillows. From time to time, some cranes, flying low, passed overhis head. He killed them with his whip, never missing a bird. Hebeheld in the distance the gleam of a lake which appeared to be oflead, and in the middle of it was an animal he had never seenbefore, a beaver with a black muzzle. Notwithstanding the distancethat separated them, an arrow ended its life and Julian onlyregretted that he was not able to carry the skin home with him. 

Then he entered an avenue of tall trees, the tops of which formeda triumphal arch to the entrance of a forest. A deer sprang out ofthe thicket and a badger crawled out of its hole, a stag appearedin the road, and a peacock spread its fan-shaped tail on thegrass--and after he had slain them all, other deer, other stags, other badgers, other peacocks, and jays, blackbirds, foxes, porcupines, polecats, and lynxes, appeared; in fact, a host of beaststhat grew more and more numerous with every step he took. Trembling, and with a look of appeal in their eyes, they gathered aroundJulian, but he did not stop slaying them; and so intent was he onstretching his bow, drawing his sword and whipping out his knife, that he had little thought for aught else. He knew that he washunting in some country since an indefinite time, through the veryfact of his existence, as everything seemed to occur with the easeone experiences in dreams. But presently an extraordinary sightmade him pause. 

He beheld a valley shaped like a circus and filled with stagswhich, huddled together, were warming one another with the vapourof their breaths that mingled with the early mist. 

For a few minutes, he almost choked with pleasure at the prospectof so great a carnage. Then he sprang from his horse, rolled uphis sleeves, and began to aim. 

When the first arrow whizzed through the air, the stags turnedtheir heads simultaneously. They huddled closer, uttered plaintivecries, and a great agitation seized the whole herd. The edge ofthe valley was too high to admit of flight; and the animals ranaround the enclosure in their efforts to escape. Julian aimed, stretched his bow and his arrows fell as fast and thick asraindrops in a shower. 

Maddened with terror, the stags fought and reared and climbed ontop of one another; their antlers and bodies formed a movingmountain which tumbled to pieces whenever it displaced itself. Finally the last one expired. Their bodies lay stretched out onthe sand with foam gushing from the nostrils and the bowelsprotruding. The heaving of their bellies grew less and lessnoticeable, and presently all was still. 

Night came, and behind the trees, through the branches, the skyappeared like a sheet of blood. 

Julian leaned against a tree and gazed with dilated eyes at theenormous slaughter. He was now unable to comprehend how he hadaccomplished it. 

On the opposite side of the valley, he suddenly beheld a largestag, with a doe and their fawn. The buck was black and ofenormous size; he had a white beard and carried sixteen antlers. His mate was the color of dead leaves, and she browsed upon thegrass, while the fawn, clinging to her udder, followed her step bystep. 

Again the bow was stretched, and instantly the fawn dropped dead, and seeing this, its mother raised her head and uttered apoignant, almost human wail of agony. Exasperated, Julian thrusthis knife into her chest, and felled her to the ground. 

The great stag had watched everything and suddenly he sprangforward. Julian aimed his last arrow at the beast. It struck himbetween his antlers and stuck there. 

The stag did not appear to notice it; leaping over the bodies, hewas coming nearer and nearer with the intention, Julian thought, of charging at him and ripping him open, and he recoiled withinexpressible horror. But presently the huge animal halted, and, with eyes aflame and the solemn air of a patriarch and a judge, repeated thrice, while a bell tolled in the distance: "Accursed!Accursed! Accursed! some day, ferocious soul, thou wilt murder thyfather and thy mother!"

Then he sank on his knees, gently closed his lids and expired. 

At first Julian was stunned, and then a sudden lassitude and animmense sadness came over him. Holding his head between his hands, he wept for a long time. 

His steed had wandered away; his dogs had forsaken him; thesolitude seemed to threaten him with unknown perils. Impelled by asense of sickening terror, he ran across the fields, and choosinga path at random, found himself almost immediately at the gates ofthe castle. 

That night he could not rest, for, by the flickering light of thehanging lamp, he beheld again the huge black stag. He foughtagainst the obsession of the prediction and kept repeating: "No!No! No! I cannot slay them!" and then he thought: "Still, supposing I desired to?--" and he feared that the devil mightinspire him with this desire. 

During three months, his distracted mother prayed at his bedside, and his father paced the halls of the castle in anguish. Heconsulted the most celebrated physicians, who prescribedquantities of medicine. Julian's illness, they declared, was dueto some injurious wind or to amorous desire. But in reply to theirquestions, the young man only shook his head. After a time, hisstrength returned, and he was able to take a walk in thecourtyard, supported by his father and the old monk. 

But after he had completely recovered, he refused to hunt. 

His father, hoping to please him, presented him with a largeSaracen sabre. It was placed on a panoply that hung on a pillar, and a ladder was required to reach it. Julian climbed up to it oneday, but the heavy weapon slipped from his grasp, and in fallinggrazed his father and tore his cloak. Julian, believing he hadkilled him, fell in a swoon. 

After that, he carefully avoided weapons. The sight of a nakedsword made him grow pale, and this weakness caused great distressto his family. 

In the end, the old monk ordered him in the name of God, and ofhis forefathers, once more to indulge in the sport's of a nobleman. 

The equerries diverted themselves every day with javelins andJulian soon excelled in the practice. 

He was able to send a javelin into bottles, to break the teeth ofthe weather-cocks on the castle and to strike door-nails at adistance of one hundred feet. 

One summer evening, at the hour when dusk renders objectsindistinct, he was in the arbour in the garden, and thought he sawtwo white wings in the background hovering around the espalier. Not for a moment did he doubt that it was a stork, and so he threwhis javelin at it. 

A heart-rending scream pierced the air. 

He had struck his mother, whose cap and long streams remainednailed to the wall. 

Julian fled from home and never returned. 

CHAPTER II

THE CRIME

He joined a horde of adventurers who were passing through theplace. 

He learned what it was to suffer hunger, thirst, sickness andfilth. He grew accustomed to the din of battles and to the sightof dying men. The wind tanned his skin. His limbs became hardenedthrough contact with armour, and as he was very strong and brave, temperate and of good counsel, he easily obtained command of acompany. 

At the outset of a battle, he would electrify his soldiers by amotion of his sword. He would climb the walls of a citadel with aknotted rope, at night, rocked by the storm, while sparks of fireclung to his cuirass, and molten lead and boiling tar poured fromthe battlements. 

Often a stone would break his shield. Bridges crowded with mengave way under him. Once, by turning his mace, he rid himself offourteen horsemen. He defeated all those who came forward to fighthim on the field of honour, and more than a score of times it wasbelieved that he had been killed. 

However, thanks to Divine protection, he always escaped, for heshielded orphans, widows, and aged men. When he caught sight ofone of the latter walking ahead of him, he would call to him toshow his face, as if he feared that he might kill him by mistake. 

All sorts of intrepid men gathered under his leadership, fugitiveslaves, peasant rebels, and penniless bastards; he then organizedan army which increased so much that he became famous and was ingreat demand. 

He succoured in turn the Dauphin of France, the King of England, the Templars of Jerusalem, the General of the Parths, the Negus ofAbyssinia and the Emperor of Calicut. He fought againstScandinavians covered with fish-scales, against negroes mounted onred asses and armed with shields made of hippopotamus hide, against gold-coloured Indians who wielded great, shining swordsabove their heads. He conquered the Troglodytes and the cannibals. He travelled through regions so torrid that the heat of the sunwould set fire to the hair on one's head; he journeyed throughcountries so glacial that one's arms would fall from the body; andhe passed through places where the fogs were so dense that itseemed like being surrounded by phantoms. 

Republics in trouble consulted him; when he conferred withambassadors, he always obtained unexpected concessions. Also, if amonarch behaved badly, he would arrive on the scene and rebukehim. He freed nations. He rescued queens sequestered in towers. Itwas he and no other that killed the serpent of Milan and thedragon of Oberbirbach. 

Now, the Emperor of Occitania, having triumphed over the SpanishMussulmans, had taken the sister of the Caliph of Cordova as aconcubine, and had had one daughter by her, whom he brought up inthe teachings of Christ. But the Caliph, feigning that he wishedto become converted, made him a visit, and brought with him anumerous escort. He slaughtered the entire garrison and threw theEmperor into a dungeon, and treated him with great cruelty inorder to obtain possession of his treasures. 

Julian went to his assistance, destroyed the army of infidels, laid siege to the city, slew the Caliph, chopped off his head andthrew it over the fortifications like a cannon-ball. 

As a reward for so great a service, the Emperor presented him witha large sum of money in baskets; but Julian declined it. Then theEmperor, thinking that the amount was not sufficiently large, offered him three quarters of his fortune, and on meeting a secondrefusal, proposed to share his kingdom with his benefactor. ButJulian only thanked him for it, and the Emperor felt like weepingwith vexation at not being able to show his gratitude, when hesuddenly tapped his forehead and whispered a few words in the earof one of his courtiers; the tapestry curtains parted and a younggirl appeared. 

Her large black eyes shone like two soft lights. A charming smileparted her lips. Her curls were caught in the jewels of herhalf-opened bodice, and the grace of her youthful body could bedivined under the transparency of her tunic. 

She was small and quite plump, but her waist was slender. 

Julian was absolutely dazzled, all the more since he had alwaysled a chaste life. 

So he married the Emperor's daughter, and received at the sametime a castle she had inherited from her mother; and when therejoicings were over, he departed with his bride, after manycourtesies had been exchanged on both sides. 

The castle was of Moorish design, in white marble, erected on apromontory and surrounded by orange-trees. 

Terraces of flowers extended to the shell-strewn shores of abeautiful bay. Behind the castle spread a fan-shaped forest. Thesky was always blue, and the trees were swayed in turn by theocean-breeze and by the winds that blew from the mountains thatclosed the horizon. 

Light entered the apartments through the incrustations of thewalls. High, reed-like columns supported the ceiling of thecupolas, decorated in imitation of stalactites. 

Fountains played in the spacious halls; the courts were inlaidwith mosaic; there were festooned partitions and a great profusionof architectural fancies; and everywhere reigned a silence so deepthat the swish of a sash or the echo of a sigh could be distinctlyheard. 

Julian now had renounced war. Surrounded by a peaceful people, heremained idle, receiving every day a throng of subjects who cameand knelt before him and kissed his hand in Oriental fashion. 

Clad in sumptuous garments, he would gaze out of the window andthink of his past exploits; and wish that he might again run inthe desert in pursuit of ostriches and gazelles, hide among thebamboos to watch for leopards, ride through forests filled withrhinoceroses, climb the most inaccessible peaks in order to have abetter aim at the eagles, and fight the polar bears on theicebergs of the northern sea. 

Sometimes, in his dreams, he fancied himself like Adam in themidst of Paradise, surrounded by all the beasts; by merelyextending his arm, he was able to kill them; or else they filedpast him, in pairs, by order of size, from the lions and theelephants to the ermines and the ducks, as on the day they enteredNoah's Ark. 

Hidden in the shadow of a cave, he aimed unerring arrows at them;then came others and still others, until he awoke, wild-eyed. 

Princes, friends of his, invited him to their meets, but he alwaysrefused their invitations, because he thought that by this kind ofpenance he might possibly avert the threatened misfortune; itseemed to him that the fate of his parents depended on his refusalto slaughter animals. He suffered because he could not see them, and his other desire was growing well-nigh unbearable. 

In order to divert his mind, his wife had dancers and jugglerscome to the castle. 

She went abroad with him in an open litter; at other times, stretched out on the edge of a boat, they watched for hours thefish disport themselves in the water, which was as clear as thesky. Often she playfully threw flowers at him or nestling at hisfeet, she played melodies on an old mandolin; then, clasping herhands on his shoulder, she would inquire tremulously: "Whattroubles thee, my dear lord?"

He would not reply, or else he would burst into tears; but atlast, one day, he confessed his fearful dread. 

His wife scorned the idea and reasoned wisely with him: probablyhis father and mother were dead; and even if he should ever seethem again, through what chance, to what end, would he arrive atthis abomination? Therefore, his fears were groundless, and heshould hunt again. 

Julian listened to her and smiled, but he could not bring himselfto yield to his desire. 

One August evening when they were in their bed-chamber, she havingjust retired and he being about to kneel in prayer, he heard theyelping of a fox and light footsteps under the window; and hethought he saw things in the dark that looked like animals. Thetemptation was too strong. He seized his quiver. 

His wife appeared astonished. 

"I am obeying you, " quoth he, "and I shall be back at sunrise. "

However, she feared that some calamity would happen. But hereassured her and departed, surprised at her illogical moods. 

A short time afterwards, a page came to announce that twostrangers desired, in the absence of the lord of the castle, tosee its mistress at once. 

Soon a stooping old man and an aged woman entered the room; theircoarse garments were covered with dust and each leaned on a stick. 

They grew bold enough to say that they brought Julian news of hisparents. She leaned out of the bed to listen to them. But afterglancing at each other, the old people asked her whether he everreferred to them and if he still loved them. 

"Oh! yes!" she said. 

Then they exclaimed:

"We are his parents!" and they sat themselves down, for they werevery tired. 

But there was nothing to show the young wife that her husband wastheir son. 

They proved it by describing to her the birthmarks he had on hisbody. Then she jumped out of bed, called a page, and ordered thata repast be served to them. 

But although they were very hungry, they could scarcely eat, andshe observed surreptitiously how their lean fingers trembledwhenever they lifted their cups. 

They asked a hundred questions about their son, and she answeredeach one of them, but she was careful not to refer to the terribleidea that concerned them. 

When he failed to return, they had left their château; and hadwandered for several years, following vague indications butwithout losing hope. 

So much money had been spent at the tolls of the rivers and ininns, to satisfy the rights of princes and the demands ofhighwaymen, that now their purse was quite empty and they wereobliged to beg. But what did it matter, since they were about toclasp again their son in their arms? They lauded his happiness inhaving such a beautiful wife, and did not tire of looking at herand kissing her. 

The luxuriousness of the apartment astonished them; and the oldman, after examining the walls, inquired why they bore the coat-of-armsof the Emperor of Occitania. 

"He is my father, " she replied. 

And he marvelled and remembered the prediction of the gipsy, whilehis wife meditated upon the words the hermit had spoken to her. The glory of their son was undoubtedly only the dawn of eternalsplendours, and the old people remained awed while the light fromthe candelabra on the table fell on them. 

In the heyday of youth, both had been extremely handsome. Themother had not lost her hair, and bands of snowy whiteness framedher cheeks; and the father, with his stalwart figure and longbeard, looked like a carved image. 

Julian's wife prevailed upon them not to wait for him. She putthem in her bed and closed the curtains; and they both fellasleep. The day broke and outdoors the little birds began tochirp. 

Meanwhile, Julian had left the castle grounds and walked nervouslythrough the forest, enjoying the velvety softness of the grass andthe balminess of the air. 

The shadow of the trees fell on the earth. Here and there, themoonlight flecked the glades and Julian feared to advance, becausehe mistook the silvery light for water and the tranquil surface ofthe pools for grass. A great stillness reigned everywhere, and hefailed to see any of the beasts that only a moment ago wereprowling around the castle. As he walked on, the woods grewthicker, and the darkness more impenetrable. Warm winds, filledwith enervating perfumes, caressed him; he sank into masses ofdead leaves, and after a while he leaned against an oak-tree torest and catch his breath. 

Suddenly a body blacker than the surrounding darkness sprang frombehind the tree. It was a wild boar. Julian did not have time tostretch his bow, and he bewailed the fact as if it were some greatmisfortune. Presently, having left the woods, he beheld a wolfslinking along a hedge. 

He aimed an arrow at him. The wolf paused, turned his head andquietly continued on his way. He trotted along, always keeping atthe same distance, pausing now and then to look around andresuming his flight as soon as an arrow was aimed in hisdirection. 

In this way Julian traversed an apparently endless plain, thensand-hills, and at last found himself on a plateau, that dominateda great stretch of land. Large flat stones were interspersed amongcrumbling vaults; bones and skeletons covered the ground, and hereand there some mouldy crosses stood desolate. But presently, shapes moved in the darkness of the tombs, and from them camepanting, wild-eyed hyenas. They approached him and smelled him, grinning hideously and disclosing their gums. He whipped out hissword, but they scattered in every direction and continuing theirswift, limping gallop, disappeared in a cloud of dust. 

Some time afterwards, in a ravine, he encountered a wild bull, with threatening horns, pawing the sand with his hoofs. Julianthrust his lance between his dewlaps. But his weapon snapped as ifthe beast were made of bronze; then he closed his eyes inanticipation of his death. When he opened them again, the bull hadvanished. 

Then his soul collapsed with shame. Some supernatural powerdestroyed his strength, and he set out for home through theforest. The woods were a tangle of creeping plants that he had tocut with his sword, and while he was thus engaged, a weasel slidbetween his feet, a panther jumped over his shoulder, and aserpent wound itself around the ash-tree. 

Among its leaves was a monstrous jackdaw that watched Julianintently, and here and there, between the branches, appearedgreat, fiery sparks as if the sky were raining all its stars uponthe forest. But the sparks were the eyes of wild-cats, owls, squirrels, monkeys and parrots. 

Julian aimed his arrows at them, but the feathered weapons lightedon the leaves of the trees and looked like white butterflies. Hethrew stones at them; but the missiles did not strike, and fell tothe ground. Then he cursed himself, and howled imprecations, andin his rage he could have struck himself. 

Then all the beasts he had pursued appeared, and formed a narrowcircle around him. Some sat on their hindquarters, while othersstood at full height. And Julian remained among them, transfixedwith terror and absolutely unable to move. By a supreme effort ofhis will-power, he took a step forward; those that perched in thetrees opened their wings, those that trod the earth moved theirlimbs, and all accompanied him. 

The hyenas strode in front of him, the wolf and the wild boarbrought up the rear. On his right, the bull swung its head and onhis left the serpent crawled through the grass; while the panther, arching its back, advanced with velvety footfalls and longstrides. Julian walked as slowly as possible, so as not toirritate them, while in the depth of bushes he could distinguishporcupines, foxes, vipers, jackals, and bears. 

He began to run; the brutes followed him. The serpent hissed, themalodorous beasts frothed at the mouth, the wild boar rubbed histusks against his heels, and the wolf scratched the palms of hishands with the hairs of his snout. The monkeys pinched him andmade faces, the weasel tolled over his feet. A bear knocked hiscap off with its huge paw, and the panther disdainfully dropped anarrow it was about to put in its mouth. 

Irony seemed to incite their sly actions. As they watched him outof the corners of their eyes, they seemed to meditate a plan ofrevenge, and Julian, who was deafened by the buzzing of theinsects, bruised by the wings and tails of the birds, choked bythe stench of animal breaths, walked with outstretched arms andclosed lids, like a blind man, without even the strength to begfor mercy. 

The crowing of a cock vibrated in the air. Other cocks responded;it was day; and Julian recognised the top of his palace risingabove the orange-trees. 

Then, on the edge of a field, he beheld some red partridgesfluttering around a stubble-field. He unfastened his cloak andthrew it over them like a net. When he lifted it, he found only abird that had been dead a long time and was decaying. 

This disappointment irritated him more than all the others. Thethirst for carnage stirred afresh within him; animals failing him, he desired to slaughter men. 

He climbed the three terraces and opened the door with a blow ofhis fist; but at the foot of the staircase, the memory of hisbeloved wife softened his heart. No doubt she was asleep, and hewould go up and surprise her. Having removed his sandals, heunlocked the door softly and entered. 

The stained windows dimmed the pale light of dawn. Julian stumbledover some garment's lying on the floor and a little further on, heknocked against a table covered with dishes. "She must haveeaten, " he thought; so he advanced cautiously towards the bedwhich was concealed by the darkness in the back of the room. Whenhe reached the edge, he leaned over the pillow where the two headswere resting close together and stooped to kiss his wife. Hismouth encountered a man's beard. 

He fell back, thinking he had become crazed; then he approachedthe bed again and his searching fingers discovered some hair whichseemed to be very long. In order to convince himself that he wasmistaken, he once more passed his hand slowly over the pillow. Butthis time he was sure that it was a beard and that a man wasthere! a man lying beside his wife!

Flying into an ungovernable passion, he sprang upon them with hisdrawn dagger, foaming, stamping and howling like a wild beast. After a while he stopped. 

The corpses, pierced through the heart, had not even moved. Helistened attentively to the two death-rattles, they were almostalike, and as they grew fainter, another voice, coming from faraway, seemed to continue them. Uncertain at first, this plaintivevoice came nearer and nearer, grew louder and louder and presentlyhe recognised, with a feeling of abject terror, the bellowing ofthe great black stag. 

And as he turned around, he thought he saw the spectre of his wifestanding at the threshold with a light in her hand. 

The sound of the murder had aroused her. In one glance sheunderstood what had happened and fled in horror, letting thecandle drop from her hand. Julian picked it up. 

His father and mother lay before him, stretched on their backs, with gaping wounds in their breasts; and their faces, theexpression of which was full of tender dignity, seemed to hidewhat might be an eternal secret. 

Splashes and blotches of blood were on their white skin, on thebed-clothes, on the floor, and on an ivory Christ which hung inthe alcove. The scarlet reflection of the stained window, whichjust then was struck by the sun, lighted up the bloody spots andappeared to scatter them around the whole room. Julian walkedtoward the corpses, repeating to himself and trying to believethat he was mistaken, that it was not possible, that there areoften inexplicable likenesses. 

At last he bent over to look closely at the old man and he saw, between the half-closed lids, a dead pupil that scorched him likefire. Then he went over to the other side of the bed, where theother corpse lay, but the face was partly hidden by bands of whitehair. Julian slipped his finger beneath them and raised the head, holding it at arm's length to study its features, while, with hisother hand he lifted the torch. Drops of blood oozed from themattress and fell one by one upon the floor. 

At the close of the day, he appeared before his wife, and in achanged voice commanded her first not to answer him, not toapproach him, not even to look at him, and to obey, under thepenalty of eternal damnation, every one of his orders, which wereirrevocable. 

The funeral was to be held in accordance with the writteninstructions he had left on a chair in the death-chamber. 

He left her his castle, his vassals, all his worldly goods, without keeping even his clothes or his sandals, which would befound at the top of the stairs. 

She had obeyed the will of God in bringing about his crime, andaccordingly she must pray for his soul, since henceforth he shouldcease to exist. 

The dead were buried sumptuously in the chapel of a monasterywhich it took three days to reach from the castle. A monk wearinga hood that covered his head followed the procession alone, fornobody dared to speak to him. And during the mass, he lay flat onthe floor with his face downward and his arms stretched out at hissides. 

After the burial, he was seen to take the road leading into themountains. He looked back several times, and finally passed out ofsight. 

CHAPTER III

THE REPARATION

He left the country and begged his daily bread on his way. 

He stretched out his hand to the horsemen he met in the roads, andhumbly approached the harvesters in the fields; or else remainedmotionless in front of the gates of castles; and his face was sosad that he was never turned away. 

Obeying a spirit of humility, he related his history to all men, and they would flee from him and cross themselves. In villagesthrough which he had passed before, the good people bolted thedoors, threatened him, and threw stones at him as soon as theyrecognised him. The more charitable ones placed a bowl on thewindow-sill and closed the shutters in order to avoid seeing him. 

Repelled and shunned by everyone, he avoided his fellow-men andnourished himself with roots and plants, stray fruits and shellswhich he gathered along the shores. 

Often, at the bend of a hill, he could perceive a mass of crowdedroofs, stone spires, bridges, towers and narrow streets, fromwhich arose a continual murmur of activity. 

The desire to mingle with men impelled him to enter the city. Butthe gross and beastly expression of their faces, the noise oftheir industries and the indifference of their remarks, chilledhis very heart. On holidays, when the cathedral bells rang out atdaybreak and filled the people's hearts with gladness, he watchedthe inhabitants coming out of their dwellings, the dancers in thepublic squares, the fountains of ale, the damask hangings spreadbefore the houses of princes; and then, when night came, he wouldpeer through the windows at the long tables where familiesgathered and where grandparents held little children on theirknees; then sobs would rise in his throat and he would turn awayand go back to his haunts. 

He gazed with yearning at the colts in the pastures, the birds intheir nests, the insects on the flowers; but they all fled fromhim at his approach and hid or flew away. So he sought solitude. But the wind brought to his ears sounds resembling death-rattles;the tears of the dew reminded him of heavier drops, and everyevening, the sun would spread blood in the sky, and every night, in his dreams, he lived over his parricide. 

He made himself a hair-cloth lined with iron spikes. On his knees, he ascended every hill that was crowned with a chapel. But theunrelenting thought spoiled the splendour of the tabernacles andtortured him in the midst of his penances. 

He did not rebel against God, who had inflicted his action, but hedespaired at the thought that he had committed it. 

He had such a horror of himself that he took all sorts of risks. He rescued paralytics from fire and children from waves. But theocean scorned him and the flames spared him. Time did not allayhis torment, which became so intolerable that he resolved to die. 

One day, while he was stooping over a fountain to judge of itsdepth, an old man appeared on the other side. He wore a whitebeard and his appearance was so lamentable that Julian could notkeep back his tears. The old man also was weeping. Withoutrecognising him, Julian remembered confusedly a face thatresembled his. He uttered a cry; for it was his father who stoodbefore him; and he gave up all thought of taking his own life. 

Thus weighted down by his recollections, he travelled through manycountries and arrived at a river which was dangerous, because ofits violence and the slime that covered its shores. Since a longtime nobody had ventured to cross it. 

The bow of an old boat, whose stern was buried in the mud, showedamong the reeds. Julian, on examining it closely, found a pair ofoars and hit upon the idea of devoting his life to the service ofhis fellow-men. 

He began by establishing on the bank of the river a sort of roadwhich would enable people to approach the edge of the stream; hebroke his nails in his efforts to lift enormous stones which hepressed against the pit of his stomach in order to transport themfrom one point to another; he slipped in the mud, he sank into it, and several times was on the very brink of death. 

Then he took to repairing the boat with debris of vessels, andafterwards built himself a hut with putty and trunks of trees. 

When it became known that a ferry had been established, passengersflocked to it. They hailed him from the opposite side by wavingflags, and Julian would jump into the boat and row over. The craftwas very heavy, and the people loaded it with all sorts ofbaggage, and beasts of burden, who reared with fright, therebyadding greatly to the confusion. He asked nothing for his trouble;some gave him left-over victuals which they took from their sacksor worn-out garments which they could no longer use. 

The brutal ones hurled curses at him, and when he rebuked themgently they replied with insults, and he was content to blessthem. 

A little table, a stool, a bed made of dead leaves and threeearthen bowls were all he possessed. Two holes in the wall servedas windows. On one side, as far as the eye could see, stretchedbarren wastes studded here and there with pools of water; and infront of him flowed the greenish waters of the wide river. In thespring, a putrid odour arose from the damp sod. Then fierce galeslifted clouds of dust that blew everywhere, even settling in thewater and in one's mouth. A little later swarms of mosquitoesappeared, whose buzzing and stinging continued night and day. After that, came frightful frosts which communicated a stone-likerigidity to everything and inspired one with an insane desire formeat. Months passed when Julian never saw a human being. He oftenclosed his lids and endeavored to recall his youth;--he beheld thecourtyard of a castle, with greyhounds stretched out on a terrace, an armoury filled with valets, and under a bower of vines a youthwith blond curls, sitting between an old man wrapped in furs and alady with a high cap; presently the corpses rose before him, andthen he would throw himself face downward on his cot and sob:

"Oh! poor father! poor mother! poor mother!" and would drop into afitful slumber in which the terrible visions recurred. 

One night he thought that some one was calling to him in hissleep. He listened intently, but could hear nothing save theroaring of the waters. 

But the same voice repeated: "Julian!"

It proceeded from the opposite shore, fact which appearedextraordinary to him, considering the breadth of the river. 

The voice called a third time: "Julian!"

And the high-pitched tones sounded like the ringing of achurch-bell. 

Having lighted his lantern, he stepped out of his cabin. Afrightful storm raged. The darkness was complete and wasilluminated here and there only by the white waves leaping andtumbling. 

After a moment's hesitation, he untied the rope. The waterpresently grew smooth and the boat glided easily to the oppositeshore, where a man was waiting. 

He was wrapped in a torn piece of linen; his face was like a chalkmask, and his eyes were redder than glowing coals. When Julianheld up his lantern he noticed that the stranger was covered withhideous sores; but notwithstanding this, there was in his attitudesomething like the majesty of a king. 

As soon as he stepped into the boat, it sank deep into the water, borne downward by his weight; then it rose again and Julian beganto row. 

With each stroke of the oars, the force of the waves raised thebow of the boat. The water, which was blacker than ink, ranfuriously along the sides. It formed abysses and then mountains, over which the boat glided, then it fell into yawning depthswhere, buffeted by the wind, it whirled around and around. 

Julian leaned far forward and, bracing himself with his feet, bentbackwards so as to bring his whole strength into play. Hail-stonescut his hands, the rain ran down his back, the velocity of thewind suffocated him. He stopped rowing and let the boat drift withthe tide. But realising that an important matter was at stake, acommand which could not be disregarded, he picked up the oarsagain; and the rattling of the tholes mingled with the clamouringsof the storm. 

The little lantern burned in front of him. Sometimes birdsfluttered past it and obscured the light. But he could distinguishthe eyes of the leper who stood at the stern, as motionless as acolumn. 

And the trip lasted a long, long time. 

When they reached the hut, Julian closed the door and saw the mansit down on the stool. The species of shroud that was wrappedaround him had fallen below his loins, and his shoulders and chestand lean arms were hidden under blotches of scaly pustules. Enormous wrinkles crossed his forehead. Like a skeleton, he had ahole instead of a nose, and from his bluish lips came breath whichwas fetid and as thick as mist. 

"I am hungry, " he said. 

Julian set before him what he had, a piece of pork and some crustsof coarse bread. 

After he had devoured them, the table, the bowl, and the handle ofthe knife bore the same scales that covered his body. 

Then he said: "I thirst!"

Julian fetched his jug of water and when he lifted it, he smelledan aroma that dilated his nostrils and filled his heart withgladness. It was wine; what a boon! but the leper stretched outhis arm and emptied the jug at one draught. 

Then he said: "I am cold!"

Julian ignited a bundle of ferns that lay in the middle of thehut. The leper approached the fire and, resting on his heels, began to warm himself; his whole frame shook and he was failingvisibly; his eyes grew dull, his sores began to break, and in afaint voice he whispered:

"Thy bed!"

Julian helped him gently to it, and even laid the sail of his boatover him to keep him warm. 

The leper tossed and moaned. The corners of his mouth were drawnup over his teeth; an accelerated death-rattle shook his chest andwith each one of his aspirations, his stomach touched his spine. At last, he closed his eyes. 

"I feel as if ice were in my bones! Lay thyself beside me!" hecommanded. Julian took off his garments; and then, as naked as onthe day he was born, he got into the bed; against his thigh hecould feel the skin of the leper, and it was colder than a serpentand as rough as a file. 

He tried to encourage the leper, but he only whispered:

"Oh! I am about to die! Come closer to me and warm me! Not withthy hands! No! with thy whole body. "

So Julian stretched himself out upon the leper, lay on him, lipsto lips, chest to chest. 

Then the leper clasped him close and presently his eyes shone likestars; his hair lengthened into sunbeams; the breath of hisnostrils had the scent of roses; a cloud of incense rose from thehearth, and the waters began to murmur harmoniously; an abundanceof bliss, a superhuman joy, filled the soul of the swooningJulian, while he who clasped him to his breast grew and grew untilhis head and his feet touched the opposite walls of the cabin. Theroof flew up in the air, disclosing the heavens, and Julianascended into infinity face to face with our Lord Jesus Christ, who bore him straight to heaven. 

And this is the story of Saint Julian the Hospitaller, as it isgiven on the stained-glass window of a church in my birthplace. 

A SIMPLE SOUL

CHAPTER I

FÉLICITÉ

For half a century the housewives of Pont-l'Evêque had enviedMadame Aubain her servant Félicité. 

For a hundred francs a year, she cooked and did the housework, washed, ironed, mended, harnessed the horse, fattened the poultry, made the butter and remained faithful to her mistress--althoughthe latter was by no means an agreeable person. 

Madame Aubain had married a comely youth without any money, whodied in the beginning of 1809, leaving her with two young childrenand a number of debts. She sold all her property excepting thefarm of Toucques and the farm of Geffosses, the income of whichbarely amounted to 5, 000 francs; then she left her house inSaint-Melaine, and moved into a less pretentious one which hadbelonged to her ancestors and stood back of the market-place. This house, with its slate-covered roof, was built between apassage-way and a narrow street that led to the river. Theinterior was so unevenly graded that it caused people to stumble. A narrow hall separated the kitchen from the parlour, whereMadame Aubain sat all day in a straw armchair near the window. Eight mahogany chairs stood in a row against the white wainscoting. An old piano, standing beneath a barometer, was covered with apyramid of old books and boxes. On either side of the yellow marblemantelpiece, in Louis XV style, stood a tapestry armchair. The clockrepresented a temple of Vesta; and the whole room smelled musty, asit was on a lower level than the garden. 

On the first floor was Madame's bedchamber, a large room paperedin a flowered design and containing the portrait of Monsieurdressed in the costume of a dandy. It communicated with a smallerroom, in which there were two little cribs, without anymattresses. Next, came the parlour (always closed), filled withfurniture covered with sheets. Then a hall, which led to thestudy, where books and papers were piled on the shelves of abook-case that enclosed three quarters of the big black desk. Twopanels were entirely hidden under pen-and-ink sketches, Gouachelandscapes and Audran engravings, relics of better times andvanished luxury. On the second floor, a garret-window lightedFélicité's room, which looked out upon the meadows. 

She arose at daybreak, in order to attend mass, and she workedwithout interruption until night; then, when dinner was over, thedishes cleared away and the door securely locked, she would burythe log under the ashes and fall asleep in front of the hearthwith a rosary in her hand. Nobody could bargain with greaterobstinacy, and as for cleanliness, the lustre on her brasssaucepans was the envy and despair of other servants. She was mosteconomical, and when she ate she would gather up crumbs with thetip of her finger, so that nothing should be wasted of the loaf ofbread weighing twelve pounds which was baked especially for herand lasted three weeks. 

Summer and winter she wore a dimity kerchief fastened in the backwith a pin, a cap which concealed her hair, a red skirt, greystockings, and an apron with a bib like those worn by hospitalnurses. 

Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, she looked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tellher age; erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figureworking automatically. 

CHAPTER II

THE HEROINE

Like every other woman, she had had an affair of the heart. Herfather, who was a mason, was killed by falling from a scaffolding. Then her mother died and her sisters went their different ways; afarmer took her in, and while she was quite small, let her keepcows in the fields. She was clad in miserable rags, beaten for theslightest offence and finally dismissed for a theft of thirty souswhich she did not commit. She took service on another farm whereshe tended the poultry; and as she was well thought of by hermaster, her fellow-workers soon grew jealous. 

One evening in August (she was then eighteen years old), theypersuaded her to accompany them to the fair at Colleville. She wasimmediately dazzled by the noise, the lights in the trees, thebrightness of the dresses, the laces and gold crosses, and thecrowd of people all hopping at the same time. She was standingmodestly at a distance, when presently a young man of well-to-doappearance, who had been leaning on the pole of a wagon andsmoking his pipe, approached her, and asked her for a dance. Hetreated her to cider and cake, bought her a silk shawl, and then, thinking she had guessed his purpose, offered to see her home. When they came to the end of a field he threw her down brutally. But she grew frightened and screamed, and he walked off. 

One evening, on the road leading to Beaumont, she came upon awagon loaded with hay, and when she overtook it, she recognisedThéodore. He greeted her calmly, and asked her to forget what hadhappened between them, as it "was all the fault of the drink. "

She did not know what to reply and wished to run away. 

Presently he began to speak of the harvest and of the notables ofthe village; his father had left Colleville and bought the farm ofLes Écots, so that now they would be neighbors. "Ah!" sheexclaimed. He then added that his parents were looking around fora wife for him, but that he, himself, was not so anxious andpreferred to wait for a girl who suited him. She hung her head. Hethen asked her whether she had ever thought of marrying. Shereplied, smilingly, that it was wrong of him to make fun of her. "Oh! no, I am in earnest, " he said, and put his left arm aroundher waist while they sauntered along. The air was soft, the starswere bright, and the huge load of hay oscillated in front of them, drawn by four horses whose ponderous hoofs raised clouds of dust. Without a word from their driver they turned to the right. Hekissed her again and she went home. The following week, Théodoreobtained meetings. 

They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated trees. She wasnot ignorant, as girls of well-to-do families are--for the animalshad instructed her;--but her reason and her instinct of honourkept her from falling. Her resistance exasperated Théodore's loveand so in order to satisfy it (or perchance ingenuously), heoffered to marry her. She would not believe him at first, so hemade solemn promises. But, in a short time he mentioned adifficulty; the previous year, his parents had purchased asubstitute for him; but any day he might be drafted and theprospect of serving in the army alarmed him greatly. To Félicitéhis cowardice appeared a proof of his love for her, and herdevotion to him grew stronger. When she met him, he would tortureher with his fears and his entreaties. At last, he announced thathe was going to the prefect himself for information, and would lether know everything on the following Sunday, between eleveno'clock and midnight. 

When the time drew near, she ran to meet her lover. 

But instead of Théodore, one of his friends was at themeeting-place. 

He informed her that she would never see her sweetheart again;for, in order to escape the conscription, he had married a richold woman, Madame Lehoussais, of Toucques. 

The poor girl's sorrow was frightful. She threw herself on theground, she cried and called on the Lord, and wandered arounddesolately until sunrise. Then she went back to the farm, declaredher intention of leaving, and at the end of the month, after shehad received her wages, she packed all her belongings in ahandkerchief and started for Pont-l'Evêque. 

In front of the inn, she met a woman wearing widow's weeds, andupon questioning her, learned that she was looking for a cook. Thegirl did not know very much, but appeared so willing and so modestin her requirements, that Madame Aubain finally said:

"Very well, I will give you a trial. "

And half an hour later Félicité was installed in her house. 

At first she lived in a constant anxiety that was caused by "thestyle of the household" and the memory of "Monsieur, " that hoveredover everything. Paul and Virginia, the one aged seven, and theother barely four, seemed made of some precious material; shecarried them pig-a-back, and was greatly mortified when MadameAubain forbade her to kiss them every other minute. 

But in spite of all this, she was happy. The comfort of her newsurroundings had obliterated her sadness. 

Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain dropped in for a game ofcards, and it was Félicité's duty to prepare the table and heatthe foot-warmers. They arrived at exactly eight o'clock anddeparted before eleven. 

Every Monday morning, the dealer in second-hand goods, who livedunder the alley-way, spread out his wares on the sidewalk. Thenthe city would be filled with a buzzing of voices in which theneighing of horses, the bleating of lambs, the grunting of pigs, could be distinguished, mingled with the sharp sound of wheels onthe cobble-stones. About twelve o'clock, when the market was infull swing, there appeared at the front door a tall, middle-agedpeasant, with a hooked nose and a cap on the back of his head; itwas Robelin, the farmer of Geffosses. Shortly afterwards cameLiébard, the farmer of Toucques, short, rotund and ruddy, wearinga grey jacket and spurred boots. 

Both men brought their landlady either chickens or cheese. Félicité would invariably thwart their ruses and they held her ingreat respect. 

At various times, Madame Aubain received a visit from the Marquisde Grémanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived atFalaise on the remainder of his estates. He always came atdinner-time and brought an ugly poodle with him, whose paws soiledthe furniture. In spite of his efforts to appear a man of breeding(he even went so far as to raise his hat every time he said "Mydeceased father"), his habits got the better of him, and he wouldfill his glass a little too often and relate broad stories. Félicité would show him out very politely and say: "You have hadenough for this time, Monsieur de Grémanville! Hoping to see youagain!" and would close the door. 

She opened it gladly for Monsieur Bourais, a retired lawyer. Hisbald head and white cravat, the ruffling of his shirt, his flowingbrown coat, the manner in which he took his snuff, his wholeperson, in fact, produced in her the kind of awe which we feelwhen we see extraordinary persons. As he managed Madame's estates, he spent hours with her in Monsieur's study; he was in constantfear of being compromised, had a great regard for the magistracyand some pretensions to learning. 

In order to facilitate the children's studies, he presented themwith an engraved geography which represented various scenes of theworld: cannibals with feather head-dresses, a gorilla kidnapping ayoung girl, Arabs in the desert, a whale being harpooned, etc. 

Paul explained the pictures to Félicité. And, in fact, this washer only literary education. 

The children's studies were under the direction of a poor devilemployed at the town-hall, who sharpened his pocketknife on hisboots and was famous for his penmanship. 

When the weather was fine, they went to Geffosses. The house wasbuilt in the centre of the sloping yard; and the sea looked like agrey spot in the distance. Félicité would take slices of cold meatfrom the lunch basket and they would sit down and eat in a roomnext to the dairy. This room was all that remained of a cottagethat had been torn down. The dilapidated wall-paper trembled inthe drafts. Madame Aubain, overwhelmed by recollections, wouldhang her head, while the children were afraid to open theirmouths. Then, "Why don't you go and play?" their mother would say;and they would scamper off. 

Paul would go to the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into thepond, or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick till theyresounded like drums. Virginia would feed the rabbits and run topick the wild flowers in the fields, and her flying legs woulddisclose her little embroidered pantalettes. One autumn evening, they struck out for home through the meadows. The new moonillumined part of the sky and a mist hovered like a veil over thesinuosities of the river. Oxen, lying in the pastures, gazedmildly at the passing persons. In the third field, however, several of them got up and surrounded them. "Don't be afraid, "cried Félicité; and murmuring a sort of lament she passed her handover the back of the nearest ox; he turned away and the othersfollowed. But when they came to the next pasture, they heardfrightful bellowing. 

It was a bull which was hidden from them by the fog. He advancedtowards the two women, and Madame Aubain prepared to flee for herlife. "No, no! not so fast, " warned Félicité. Still they hurriedon, for they could hear the noisy breathing of the bull closebehind them. His hoofs pounded the grass like hammers, andpresently he began to gallop! Félicité turned around and threwpatches of grass in his eyes. He hung his head, shook his hornsand bellowed with fury. Madame Aubain and the children, huddled atthe end of the field, were trying to jump over the ditch. Félicitécontinued to back before the bull, blinding him with dirt, whileshe shouted to them to make haste. 

Madame Aubain finally slid into the ditch, after shoving firstVirginia and then Paul into it, and though she stumbled severaltimes she managed, by dint of courage, to climb the other side ofit. 

The bull had driven Félicité up against a fence; the foam from hismuzzle flew in her face and in another minute he would havedisembowelled her. She had just time to slip between two bars andthe huge animal, thwarted, paused. 

For years, this occurrence was a topic of conversation inPont-l'Evêque. But Félicité took no credit to herself, andprobably never knew that she had been heroic. 

Virginia occupied her thoughts solely, for the shock she hadsustained gave her a nervous affection, and the physician, M. Poupart, prescribed the saltwater bathing at Trouville. In thosedays, Trouville was not greatly patronised. Madame Aubain gatheredinformation, consulted Bourais, and made preparations as if theywere going on an extended trip. 

The baggage was sent the day before on Liébard's cart. On thefollowing morning, he brought around two horses, one of which hada woman's saddle with a velveteen back to it, while on the crupperof the other was a rolled shawl that was to be used for a seat. Madame Aubain mounted the second horse, behind Liébard. Félicitétook charge of the little girl, and Paul rode M. Lechaptois'donkey, which had been lent for the occasion on the condition thatthey should be careful of it. 

The road was so bad that it took two hours to cover the eightmiles. The two horses sank knee-deep into the mud and stumbledinto ditches; sometimes they had to jump over them. In certainplaces, Liébard's mare stopped abruptly. He waited patiently tillshe started again, and talked of the people whose estates borderedthe road, adding his own moral reflections to the outline of theirhistories. Thus, when they were passing through Toucques, and cameto some windows draped with nasturtiums, he shrugged his shouldersand said: "There's a woman, Madame Lehoussais, who, instead oftaking a young man--" Félicité could not catch what followed; thehorses began to trot, the donkey to gallop, and they turned into alane; then a gate swung open, two farm-hands appeared and they alldismounted at the very threshold of the farm-house. 

Mother Liébard, when she caught sight of her mistress, was lavishwith joyful demonstrations. She got up a lunch which comprised aleg of mutton, tripe, sausages, a chicken fricassée, sweet cider, a fruit tart and some preserved prunes; then to all this the goodwoman added polite remarks about Madame, who appeared to be inbetter health, Mademoiselle, who had grown to be "superb, " andPaul, who had become singularly sturdy; she spoke also of theirdeceased grandparents, whom the Liébards had known, for they hadbeen in the service of the family for several generations. 

Like its owners, the farm had an ancient appearance. The beams ofthe ceiling were mouldy, the walls black with smoke and thewindows grey with dust. The oak sideboard was filled with allsorts of utensils, plates, pitchers, tin bowls, wolf-traps. Thechildren laughed when they saw a huge syringe. There was not atree in the yard that did not have mushrooms growing around itsfoot, or a bunch of mistletoe hanging in its branches. Several ofthe trees had been blown down, but they had started to grow in themiddle and all were laden with quantities of apples. The thatchedroofs, which were of unequal thickness, looked like brown velvetand could resist the fiercest gales. But the wagon-shed was fastcrumbling to ruins. Madame Aubain said that she would attend toit, and then gave orders to have the horses saddled. 

It took another thirty minutes to reach Trouville. The littlecaravan dismounted in order to pass Les Écores, a cliff thatoverhangs the bay, and a few minutes later, at the end of thedock, they entered the yard of the Golden Lamb, an inn kept byMother David. 

During the first few days, Virginia felt stronger, owing to thechange of air and the action of the sea-baths. She took them inher little chemise, as she had no bathing suit, and afterwards hernurse dressed her in the cabin of a customs officer, which wasused for that purpose by other bathers. 

In the afternoon, they would take the donkey and go to theRoches-Noires, near Hennequeville. The path led at first throughundulating grounds, and thence to a plateau, where pastures andtilled fields alternated. At the edge of the road, mingling withthe brambles, grew holly bushes, and here and there stood largedead trees whose branches traced zigzags upon the blue sky. 

Ordinarily, they rested in a field facing the ocean, withDeauville on their left, and Havre on their right. The seaglittered brightly in the sun and was as smooth as a mirror, andso calm that they could scarcely distinguish its murmur; sparrowschirped joyfully and the immense canopy of heaven spread over itall. Madame Aubain brought out her sewing, and Virginia amusedherself by braiding reeds; Félicité wove lavender blossoms, whilePaul was bored and wished to go home. 

Sometimes they crossed the Toucques in a boat, and started to huntfor seashells. The outgoing tide exposed starfish and sea-urchins, and the children tried to catch the flakes of foam which the windblew away. The sleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled themselvesalong the shore that extended as far as the eye could see, butwhere land began, it was limited by the downs which separated itfrom the "Swamp, " a large meadow shaped like a hippodrome. Whenthey went home that way, Trouville, on the slope of a hill below, grew larger and larger as they advanced, and, with all its housesof unequal height, seemed to spread out before them in a sort ofgiddy confusion. 

When the heat was too oppressive, they remained in their rooms. The dazzling sunlight cast bars of light between the shutters. Nota sound in the village, not a soul on the sidewalk. This silenceintensified the tranquillity of everything. In the distance, thehammers of some calkers pounded the hull of a ship, and the sultrybreeze brought them an odour of tar. 

The principal diversion consisted in watching the return of thefishing-smacks. As soon as they passed the beacons, they began toply to windward. The sails were lowered to one third of the masts, and with their foresails swelled up like balloons they glided overthe waves and anchored in the middle of the harbour. Then theycrept up alongside of the dock and the sailors threw the quiveringfish over the side of the boat; a line of carts was waiting forthem, and women with white caps sprang forward to receive thebaskets and embrace their men-folk. 

One day, one of them spoke to Félicité, who, after a little while, returned to the house gleefully. She had found one of her sisters, and presently Nastasie Barette, wife of Léroux, made herappearance, holding an infant in her arms, another child by thehand, while on her left was a little cabin-boy with his hands inhis pockets and his cap on his ear. 

At the end of fifteen minutes, Madame Aubain bade her go. 

They always hung around the kitchen, or approached Félicité whenshe and the children were out walking. The husband, however, didnot show himself. 

Félicité developed a great fondness for them; she bought them astove, some shirts and a blanket; it was evident that theyexploited her. Her foolishness annoyed Madame Aubain, who, moreover did not like the nephew's familiarity, for he called herson "thou";--and, as Virginia began to cough and the season wasover, she decided to return to Pont-l'Evêque. 

Monsieur Bourais assisted her in the choice of a college. The oneat Caën was considered the best. So Paul was sent away and bravelysaid good-bye to them all, for he was glad to go to live in ahouse where he would have boy companions. 

Madame Aubain resigned herself to the separation from her sonbecause it was unavoidable. Virginia brooded less and less overit. Félicité regretted the noise he made, but soon a newoccupation diverted her mind; beginning from Christmas, sheaccompanied the little girl to her catechism lesson every day. 

CHAPTER III

DEATH

After she had made a curtsey at the threshold, she would walk upthe aisle between the double lines of chairs, open Madame Aubain'spew, sit down and look around. 

Girls and boys, the former on the right, the latter on theleft-hand side of the church, filled the stalls of the choir; thepriest stood beside the reading-desk; on one stained window of theside-aisle the Holy Ghost hovered over the Virgin; on another one, Mary knelt before the Child Jesus, and behind the altar, a woodengroup represented Saint Michael felling the dragon. 

The priest first read a condensed lesson of sacred history. Félicité evoked Paradise, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, theblazing cities, the dying nations, the shattered idols; and out ofthis she developed a great respect for the Almighty and a greatfear of His wrath. Then, when she listened to the Passion, shewept. Why had they crucified Him who loved little children, nourished the people, made the blind see, and who, out ofhumility, had wished to be born among the poor, in a stable? Thesowings, the harvests, the wine-presses, all those familiar thingswhich the Scriptures mention, formed a part of her life; the wordof God sanctified them; and she loved the lambs with increasedtenderness for the sake of the Lamb, and the doves because of theHoly Ghost. 

She found it hard, however, to think of the latter as a person, for was it not a bird, a flame, and sometimes only a breath?Perhaps it is its light that at night hovers over swamps, itsbreath that propels the clouds, its voice that renders church-bellsharmonious. And Félicité worshipped devoutly, while enjoying thecoolness and the stillness of the church. 

As for the dogma, she could not understand it and did not eventry. The priest discoursed, the children recited, and she went tosleep, only to awaken with a start when they were leaving thechurch and their wooden shoes clattered on the stone pavement. 

In this way, she learned her catechism, her religious educationhaving been neglected in her youth; and thenceforth she imitatedall Virginia's religious practises, fasted when she did, and wentto confession with her. At the Corpus-Christi Day they bothdecorated an altar. 

She worried in advance over Virginia's first communion. She fussedabout the shoes, the rosary, the book and the gloves. With whatnervousness she helped the mother dress the child!

During the entire ceremony, she felt anguished. Monsieur Bouraishid part of the choir from view, but directly in front of her, theflock of maidens, wearing white wreaths over their lowered veils, formed a snow-white field, and she recognised her darling by theslenderness of her neck and her devout attitude. The bell tinkled. All the heads bent and there was a silence. Then, at the peals ofthe organ the singers and the worshippers struck up the Agnus Dei;the boys' procession began; behind them came the girls. Withclasped hands, they advanced step by step to the lighted altar, knelt at the first step, received one by one the Host, andreturned to their seats in the same order. When Virginia's turncame, Félicité leaned forward to watch her, and through thatimagination which springs from true affection, she at once becamethe child, whose face and dress became hers, whose heart beat inher bosom, and when Virginia opened her mouth and closed her lids, she did likewise and came very near fainting. 

The following day, she presented herself early at the church so asto receive communion from the curé. She took it with the properfeeling, but did not experience the same delight as on theprevious day. 

Madame Aubain wished to make an accomplished girl of her daughter;and as Guyot could not teach English nor music, she decided tosend her to the Ursulines at Honfleur. 

The child made no objection, but Félicité sighed and thoughtMadame was heartless. Then, she thought that perhaps her mistresswas right, as these things were beyond her sphere. Finally, oneday, an old _fiacre_ stopped in front of the door and a nunstepped out. Félicité put Virginia's luggage on top of thecarriage, gave the coachman some instructions, and smuggled sixjars of jam, a dozen pears and a bunch of violets under the seat. 

At the last minute, Virginia had a fit of sobbing; she embracedher mother again and again, while the latter kissed her on herforehead, and said: "Now, be brave, be brave!" The step was pulledup and the _fiacre_ rumbled off. 

Then Madame Aubain had a fainting spell, and that evening all herfriends, including the two Lormeaus, Madame Lechaptois, the ladiesRochefeuille, Messieurs de Houppeville and Bourais, called on herand tendered their sympathy. 

At first the separation proved very painful to her. But herdaughter wrote her three times a week and the other days she, herself, wrote to Virginia. Then she walked in the garden, read alittle, and in this way managed to fill out the emptiness of thehours. 

Each morning, out of habit, Félicité entered Virginia's room andgazed at the walls. She missed combing her hair, lacing her shoes, tucking her in her bed, and the bright face and little hand whenthey used to go out for a walk. In order to occupy herself shetried to make lace. But her clumsy fingers broke the threads; shehad no heart for anything, lost her sleep and "wasted away, " asshe put it. 

In order to have some distraction, she asked leave to receive thevisits of her nephew Victor. 

He would come on Sunday, after church, with ruddy cheeks and baredchest, bringing with him the scent of the country. She would setthe table and they would sit down opposite each other, and eattheir dinner; she ate as little as possible, herself, to avoid anyextra expense, but would stuff him so with food that he wouldfinally go to sleep. At the first stroke of vespers, she wouldwake him up, brush his trousers, tie his cravat and walk to churchwith him, leaning on his arm with maternal pride. 

His parents always told him to get something out of her, either apackage of brown sugar, or soap, or brandy, and sometimes evenmoney. He brought her his clothes to mend, and she accepted thetask gladly, because it meant another visit from him. 

In August, his father took him on a coasting-vessel. 

It was vacation time and the arrival of the children consoledFélicité. But Paul was capricious, and Virginia was growing tooold to be thee-and-thou'd, a fact which seemed to produce a sortof embarrassment in their relations. 

Victor went successively to Morlaix, to Dunkirk, and to Brighton;whenever he returned from a trip he would bring her a present. Thefirst time it was a box of shells; the second, a coffee-cup; thethird, a big doll of ginger-bread. He was growing handsome, had agood figure, a tiny moustache, kind eyes, and a little leather capthat sat jauntily on the back of his head. He amused his aunt bytelling her stones mingled with nautical expressions. 

One Monday, the 14th of July, 1819 (she never forgot the date), Victor announced that he had been engaged on merchant-vessel andthat in two days he would take the steamer at Honfleur and joinhis sailer, which was going to start from Havre very soon. Perhapshe might be away two years. 

The prospect of his departure filled Félicité with despair, and inorder to bid him farewell, on Wednesday night, after Madame'sdinner, she put on her pattens and trudged the four miles thatseparated Pont-l'Evêque from Honfleur. 

When she reached the Calvary, instead of turning to the right, sheturned to the left and lost herself in coal-yards; she had toretrace her steps; some people she spoke to advised her to hasten. She walked helplessly around the harbour filled with vessels, andknocked against hawsers. Presently the ground sloped abruptly, lights flittered to and fro, and she thought all at once that shehad gone mad when she saw some horses in the sky. 

Others, on the edge of the dock, neighed at the sight of theocean. A derrick pulled them up in the air and dumped them into aboat, where passengers were bustling about among barrels of cider, baskets of cheese and bags of meal; chickens cackled, the captainswore and a cabin-boy rested on the railing, apparentlyindifferent to his surroundings. Félicité, who did not recognisehim, kept shouting: "Victor!" He suddenly raised his eyes, butwhile she was preparing to rush up to him, they withdrew thegangplank. 

The packet, towed by singing women, glided out of the harbour. Herhull squeaked and the heavy waves beat up against her sides. Thesail had turned and nobody was visible;--and on the ocean, silvered by the light of the moon, the vessel formed a black spotthat grew dimmer and dimmer, and finally disappeared. 

When Félicité passed the Calvary again, she felt as if she mustentrust that which was dearest to her to the Lord; and for a longwhile she prayed, with uplifted eyes and a face wet with tears. The city was sleeping; some customs officials were taking the air;and the water kept pouring through the holes of the dam with adeafening roar. The town clock struck two. 

The parlour of the convent would not open until morning, andsurely a delay would annoy Madame; so, in spite of her desire tosee the other child, she went home. The maids of the inn were justarising when she reached Pont-l'Evêque. 

So the poor boy would be on the ocean for months! His previoustrips had not alarmed her. One can come back from England andBrittany; but America, the colonies, the islands, were all lost inan uncertain region at the very end of the world. 

From that time on, Félicité thought solely of her nephew. On warmdays she feared he would suffer from thirst, and when it stormed, she was afraid he would be struck by lightning. When she harkenedto the wind that rattled in the chimney and dislodged the tiles onthe roof, she imagined that he was being buffeted by the samestorm, perched on top of a shattered mast, with his whole bodybent backward and covered with sea-foam; or, --these wererecollections of the engraved geography--he was being devoured bysavages, or captured in a forest by apes, or dying on some lonelycoast. She never mentioned her anxieties, however. 

Madame Aubain worried about her daughter. 

The sisters thought that Virginia was affectionate but delicate. The slightest emotion enervated her. She had to give up her pianolessons. Her mother insisted upon regular letters from theconvent. One morning, when the postman failed to come, she grewimpatient and began to pace to and fro, from her chair to thewindow. It was really extraordinary! No news since four days!

In order to console her mistress by her own example, Félicitésaid:

"Why, Madame, I haven't had any news since six months!"--

"From whom?"--

The servant replied gently:

"Why--from my nephew. "

"Oh, yes, your nephew!" And shrugging her shoulders, Madame Aubaincontinued to pace the floor as if to say: "I did not think ofit. --Besides, I do not care, a cabin-boy, a pauper!--but mydaughter--what a difference! just think of it!--"

Félicité, although she had been reared roughly, was veryindignant. Then she forgot about it. 

It appeared quite natural to her that one should lose one's headabout Virginia. 

The two children were of equal importance; they were united in herheart and their fate was to be the same. 

The chemist informed her that Victor's vessel had reached Havana. He had read the information in a newspaper. 

Félicité imagined that Havana was a place where people did nothingbut smoke, and that Victor walked around among negroes in a cloudof tobacco. Could a person, in case of need, return by land? Howfar was it from Pont-l'Evêque? In order to learn these things shequestioned Monsieur Bourais. He reached for his map and began someexplanations concerning longitudes, and smiled with superiority atFélicité's bewilderment. At last, he took his pencil and pointedout an imperceptible black point in the scallops of an ovalblotch, adding: "There it is. " She bent over the map; the maze ofcoloured lines hurt her eyes without enlightening her; and whenBourais asked her what puzzled her, she requested him to show herthe house Victor lived in. Bourais threw up his hands, sneezed, and then laughed uproariously; such ignorance delighted his soul;but Félicité failed to understand the cause of his mirth, shewhose intelligence was so limited that she perhaps expected to seeeven the picture of her nephew!

It was two weeks later that Liébard came into the kitchen atmarket-time, and handed her a letter from her brother-in-law. Asneither of them could read, she called upon her mistress. 

Madame Aubain, who was counting the stitches of her knitting, laidher work down beside her, opened the letter, started, and in a lowtone and with a searching look said: "They tell you of a--misfortune. Your nephew--. "

He had died. The letter told nothing more. 

Félicité dropped on a chair, leaned her head against the back andclosed her lids; presently they grew pink. Then, with droopinghead, inert hands and staring eyes she repeated at intervals:

"Poor little chap! poor little chap!"

Liébard watched her and sighed. Madame Aubain was trembling. 

She proposed to the girl to go see her sister in Trouville. 

With a single motion, Félicité replied that it was not necessary. 

There was a silence. Old Liébard thought it about time for him totake leave. 

Then Félicité uttered:

"They have no sympathy, they do not care!"

Her head fell forward again, and from time to time, mechanically, she toyed with the long knitting-needles on the work-table. 

Some women passed through the yard with a basket of wet clothes. 

When she saw them through the window, she suddenly remembered herown wash; as she had soaked it the day before, she must go andrinse it now. So she arose and left the room. 

Her tub and her board were on the bank of the Toucques. She threwa heap of clothes on the ground, rolled up her sleeves and graspedher bat; and her loud pounding could be heard in the neighbouringgardens. The meadows were empty, the breeze wrinkled the stream, at the bottom of which were long grasses that looked like the hairof corpses floating in the water. She restrained her sorrow andwas very brave until night; but, when she had gone to her ownroom, she gave way to it, burying her face in the pillow andpressing her two fists against her temples. 

A long while afterward, she learned through Victor's captain, thecircumstances which surrounded his death. At the hospital they hadbled him too much, treating him for yellow fever. Four doctorsheld him at one time. He died almost instantly, and the chiefsurgeon had said:

"Here goes another one!"

His parents had always treated him barbarously; she preferred notto see them again, and they made no advances, either fromforgetfulness or out of innate hardness. 

Virginia was growing weaker. 

A cough, continual fever, oppressive breathing and spots on hercheeks indicated some serious trouble. Monsieur Poupart hadadvised a sojourn in Provence. Madame Aubain decided that theywould go, and she would have had her daughter come home at once, had it not been for the climate of Pont-l'Evêque. 

She made an arrangement with a livery-stable man who drove herover to the convent every Tuesday. In the garden there was aterrace, from which the view extends to the Seine. Virginia walkedin it, leaning on her mother's arm and treading the dead vineleaves. Sometimes the sun, shining through the clouds, made herblink her lids, when she gazed at the sails in the distance, andlet her eyes roam over the horizon from the chateau of Tancarvilleto the lighthouses of Havre. Then they rested in the arbour. Hermother had bought a little cask of fine Malaga wine, and Virginia, laughing at the idea of becoming intoxicated, would drink a fewdrops of it, but never more. 

Her strength returned. Autumn passed. Félicité began to reassureMadame Aubain. But, one evening, when she returned home after anerrand, she met M. Boupart's coach in front of the door; M. Boupart himself was standing in the vestibule and Madame Aubainwas tying the strings of her bonnet. "Give me my foot-warmer, mypurse and my gloves; and be quick about it, " she said. 

Virginia had congestion of the lungs; perhaps it was desperate. 

"Not yet, " said the physician, and both got into the carriage, while the snow fell in thick flakes. It was almost night and verycold. 

Félicité rushed to the church to light a candle. Then she ranafter the coach which she overtook after an hour's chase, sprangup behind and held on to the straps. But suddenly a thoughtcrossed her mind: "The yard had been left open; supposing thatburglars got in!" And down she jumped. 

The next morning, at daybreak, she called at the doctor's. He hadbeen home, but had left again. Then she waited at the inn, thinking that strangers might bring her a letter. At last, atdaylight she took the diligence for Lisieux. 

The convent was at the end of a steep and narrow street. When shearrived about at the middle of it, she heard strange noises, afuneral knell. "It must be for some one else, " thought she; andshe pulled the knocker violently. 

After several minutes had elapsed, she heard footsteps, the doorwas half opened and a nun appeared. The good sister, with an airof compunction, told her that "she had just passed away. " And atthe same time the tolling of Saint-Léonard's increased. 

Félicité reached the second floor. Already at the threshold, shecaught sight of Virginia lying on her back, with clasped hands, her mouth open and her head thrown back, beneath a black crucifixinclined toward her, and stiff curtains which were less white thanher face. Madame Aubain lay at the foot of the couch, clasping itwith her arms and uttering groans of agony. The Mother Superiorwas standing on the right side of the bed. The three candles onthe bureau made red blurs, and the windows were dimmed by the fogoutside. The nuns carried Madame Aubain from the room. 

For two nights, Félicité never left the corpse. She would repeatthe same prayers, sprinkle holy water over the sheets, get up, come back to the bed and contemplate the body. At the end of thefirst vigil, she noticed that the face had taken on a yellowtinge, the lips grew blue, the nose grew pinched, the eyes weresunken. She kissed them several times and would not have beengreatly astonished had Virginia opened them; to souls like thesethe supernatural is always quite simple. She washed her, wrappedher in a shroud, put her into the casket, laid a wreath of flowerson her head and arranged her curls. They were blond and of anextraordinary length for her age. Félicité cut off a big lock andput half of it into her bosom, resolving never to part with it. 

The body was taken to Pont-l'Evêque, according to Madame Aubain'swishes; she followed the hearse in a closed carriage. 

After the ceremony it took three quarters of an hour to reach thecemetery. Paul, sobbing, headed the procession; Monsieur Bouraisfollowed, and then came the principal inhabitants of the town, thewomen covered with black capes, and Félicité. The memory of hernephew, and the thought that she had not been able to render himthese honours, made her doubly unhappy, and she felt as if he werebeing buried with Virginia. 

Madame Aubain's grief was uncontrollable. At first she rebelledagainst God, thinking that he was unjust to have taken away herchild--she who had never done anything wrong, and whose consciencewas so pure! But no! she ought to have taken her South. Otherdoctors would have saved her. She accused herself, prayed to beable to join her child, and cried in the midst of her dreams. Ofthe latter, one more especially haunted her. Her husband, dressedlike a sailor, had come back from a long voyage, and with tears inhis eyes told her that he had received the order to take Virginiaaway. Then they both consulted about a hiding-place. 

Once she came in from the garden, all upset. A moment before (andshe showed the place), the father and daughter had appeared toher, one after the other; they did nothing but look at her. 

During several months she remained inert in her room. Félicitéscolded her gently; she must keep up for her son and also for theother one, for "her memory. "

"Her memory!" replied Madame Aubain, as if she were justawakening, "Oh! yes, yes, you do not forget her!" This was anallusion to the cemetery where she had been expressly forbidden togo. 

But Félicité went there every day. At four o'clock exactly, shewould go through the town, climb the hill, open the gate andarrive at Virginia's tomb. It was a small column of pink marblewith a flat stone at its base, and it was surrounded by a littleplot enclosed by chains. The flower-beds were bright withblossoms. Félicité watered their leaves, renewed the gravel, andknelt on the ground in order to till the earth properly. WhenMadame Aubain was able to visit the cemetery she felt very muchrelieved and consoled. 

Years passed, all alike and marked by no other events than thereturn of the great church holidays: Easter, Assumption, AllSaints' Day. Household happenings constituted the only data towhich in later years they often referred. Thus, in 1825, workmenpainted the vestibule; in 1827, a portion of the roof almostkilled a man by falling into the yard. In the summer of 1828, itwas Madame's turn to offer the hallowed bread; at that time, Bourais disappeared mysteriously; and the old acquaintances, Guyot, Liébard, Madame Lechaptois, Robelin, old Grémanville, paralysed since a long time, passed away one by one. One night, the driver of the mail in Pont-l'Evêque announced the Revolutionof July. A few days afterward a new sub-prefect was nominated, theBaron de Larsonnière, ex-consul in America, who, besides his wife, had his sister-in-law and her three grown daughters with him. Theywere often seen on their lawn, dressed in loose blouses, and theyhad a parrot and a negro servant. Madame Aubain received a call, which she returned promptly. As soon as she caught sight of them, Félicité would run and notify her mistress. But only one thing wascapable of arousing her: a letter from her son. 

He could not follow any profession as he was absorbed in drinking. His mother paid his debts and he made fresh ones; and the sighsthat she heaved while she knitted at the window reached the earsof Félicité who was spinning in the kitchen. 

They walked in the garden together, always speaking of Virginia, and asking each other if such and such a thing would have pleasedher, and what she would probably have said on this or thatoccasion. 

All her little belongings were put away in a closet of the roomwhich held the two little beds. But Madame Aubain looked them overas little as possible. One summer day, however, she resignedherself to the task and when she opened the closet the moths flewout. 

Virginia's frocks were hung under a shelf where there were threedolls, some hoops, a doll-house, and a basin which she had used. Félicité and Madame Aubain also took out the skirts, thehandkerchiefs, and the stockings and spread them on the beds, before putting them away again. The sun fell on the piteousthings, disclosing their spots and the creases formed by themotions of the body. The atmosphere was warm and blue, and ablackbird trilled in the garden; everything seemed to live inhappiness. They found a little hat of soft brown plush, but it wasentirely moth-eaten. Félicité asked for it. Their eyes met andfilled with tears; at last the mistress opened her arms and theservant threw herself against her breast and they hugged eachother and giving vent to their grief in a kiss which equalizedthem for a moment. 

It was the first time that this had ever happened, for MadameAubain was not of an expansive nature. Félicité was as gratefulfor it as if it had been some favour, and thenceforth loved herwith animal-like devotion and a religious veneration. 

Her kind-heartedness developed. When she heard the drums of amarching regiment passing through the street, she would stand inthe doorway with a jug of cider and give the soldiers a drink. Shenursed cholera victims. She protected Polish refugees, and one ofthem even declared that he wished to marry her. But theyquarrelled, for one morning when she returned from the Angelus shefound him in the kitchen coolly eating a dish which he hadprepared for himself during her absence. 

After the Polish refugees, came Colmiche, an old man who wascredited with having committed frightful misdeeds in '93. He livednear the river in the ruins of a pig-sty. The urchins peeped athim through the cracks in the walls and threw stones that fell onhis miserable bed, where he lay gasping with catarrh, with longhair, inflamed eyelids, and a tumour as big as his head on onearm. 

She got him some linen, tried to clean his hovel and dreamed ofinstalling him in the bake-house without his being in Madame'sway. When the cancer broke, she dressed it every day; sometimesshe brought him some cake and placed him in the sun on a bundle ofhay; and the poor old creature, trembling and drooling, wouldthank her in his broken voice, and put out his hands whenever sheleft him. Finally he died; and she had a mass said for the reposeof his soul. 

That day a great joy came to her: at dinner-time, Madame deLarsonnière's servant called with the parrot, the cage, and theperch and chain and lock. A note from the baroness told MadameAubain that as her husband had been promoted to a prefecture, theywere leaving that night, and she begged her to accept the bird asa remembrance and a token of her esteem. 

Since a long time the parrot had been on Félicité's mind, becausehe came from America, which reminded her of Victor, and she hadapproached the negro on the subject. 

Once even, she had said:

"How glad Madame would be to have him!"

The man had repeated this remark to his mistress who, not beingable to keep the bird, took this means of getting rid of it. 

CHAPTER IV

THE BIRD

He was called Loulou. His body was green, his head blue, the tipsof his wings were pink and his breast was golden. 

But he had the tiresome tricks of biting his perch, pulling hisfeathers out, scattering refuse and spilling the water of hisbath. Madame Aubain grew tired of him and gave him to Félicité forgood. 

She undertook his education, and soon he was able to repeat:"Pretty boy! Your servant, sir! I salute you, Marie!" His perchwas placed near the door and several persons were astonished thathe did not answer to the name of "Jacquot, " for every parrot iscalled Jacquot. They called him a goose and a log, and thesetaunts were like so many dagger thrusts to Félicité. Strangestubbornness of the bird which would not talk when people watchedhim!

Nevertheless, he sought society; for on Sunday, when the ladiesRochefeuille, Monsieur de Houppeville and the new habitués, Onfroy, the chemist, Monsieur Varin and Captain Mathieu, droppedin for their game of cards, he struck the window-panes with hiswings and made such a racket that it was impossible to talk. 

Bourais' face must have appeared very funny to Loulou. As soon ashe saw him he would begin to roar. His voice re-echoed in the yard, and the neighbours would come to the windows and begin to laugh, too; and in order that the parrot might not see him, MonsieurBourais edged along the wall, pushed his hat over his eyes to hidehis profile, and entered by the garden door, and the looks he gavethe bird lacked affection. Loulou, having thrust his head into thebutcher-boy's basket, received a slap, and from that time healways tried to nip his enemy. Fabu threatened to wring his neck, although he was not cruelly inclined, notwithstanding his bigwhiskers and tattooings. On the contrary, he rather liked the birdand, out of deviltry, tried to teach him oaths. Félicité, whom hismanner alarmed, put Loulou in the kitchen, took off his chain andlet him walk all over the house. 

When he went downstairs, he rested his beak on the steps, liftedhis right foot and then his left one; but his mistress feared thatsuch feats would give him vertigo. He became ill and was unable toeat. There was a small growth under his tongue like those chickensare sometimes afflicted with. Félicité pulled it off with hernails and cured him. One day, Paul was imprudent enough to blowthe smoke of his cigar in his face; another time, Madame Lormeauwas teasing him with the tip of her umbrella and he swallowed thetip. Finally he got lost. 

She had put him on the grass to cool him and went away only for asecond; when she returned, she found no parrot! She hunted amongthe bushes, on the bank of the river, and on the roofs, withoutpaying any attention to Madame Aubain who screamed at her: "Takecare! you must be insane!" Then she searched every garden inPont-l'Evêque and stopped the passers-by to inquire of them:"Haven't you perhaps seen my parrot?" To those who had never seenthe parrot, she described him minutely. Suddenly she thought shesaw something green fluttering behind the mills at the foot of thehill. But when she was at the top of the hill she could not seeit. A hod-carrier told her that he had just seen the bird inSaint-Melaine, in Mother Simon's store. She rushed to the place. The people did not know what she was talking about. At last she camehome, exhausted, with her slippers worn to shreds, and despair inher heart. She sat down on the bench near Madame and was tellingof her search when presently a light weight dropped on hershoulder--Loulou! What the deuce had he been doing? Perhaps he hadjust taken a little walk around the town!

She did not easily forget her scare, in fact, she never got overit. In consequence of a cold, she caught a sore throat; and sometime afterward she had an earache. Three years later she was stonedeaf, and spoke in a very loud voice even in church. Although hersins might have been proclaimed throughout the diocese without anyshame to herself, or ill effects to the community, the curéthought it advisable to receive her confession in the vestry-room. 

Imaginary buzzings also added to her bewilderment. Her mistressoften said to her: "My goodness, how stupid you are!" and shewould answer: "Yes, Madame, " and look for something. 

The narrow circle of her ideas grew more restricted than italready was; the bellowing of the oxen, the chime of the bells nolonger reached her intelligence. All things moved silently, likeghosts. Only one noise penetrated her ears: the parrot's voice. 

As if to divert her mind, he reproduced for her the tick-tack ofthe spit in the kitchen, the shrill cry of the fish-vendors, thesaw of the carpenter who had a shop opposite, and when thedoor-bell rang, he would imitate Madame Aubain: "Félicité! go tothe front door. "

They held conversations together, Loulou repeating the threephrases of his repertory over and over, Félicité replying by wordsthat had no greater meaning, but in which she poured out herfeelings. In her isolation, the parrot was almost a son, a lover. He climbed upon her fingers, pecked at her lips, clung to hershawl, and when she rocked her head to and fro like a nurse, thebig wings of her cap and the wings of the bird flapped in unison. When clouds gathered on the horizon and the thunder rumbled, Loulou would scream, perhaps because he remembered the storms inhis native forests. The dripping of the rain would excite him tofrenzy; he flapped around, struck the ceiling with his wings, upset everything, and would finally fly into the garden to play. Then he would come back into the room, light on one of theandirons, and hop around in order to get dry. 

One morning during the terrible winter of 1837, when she had puthim in front of the fire-place on account of the cold, she foundhim dead in his cage, hanging to the wire bars with his head down. He had probably died of congestion. But she believed that he hadbeen poisoned, and although she had no proofs whatever, hersuspicion rested on Fabu. 

She wept so sorely that her mistress said: "Why don't you have himstuffed?"

She asked the advice of the chemist, who had always been kind tothe bird. 

He wrote to Havre for her. A certain man named Fellacher consentedto do the work. But, as the diligence driver often lost parcelsentrusted to him, Félicité resolved to take her pet to Honfleurherself. 

Leafless apple-trees lined the edges of the road. The ditches werecovered with ice. The dogs on the neighbouring farms barked; andFélicité, with her hands beneath her cape, her little black sabotsand her basket, trotted along nimbly in the middle of thesidewalk. She crossed the forest, passed by the Haut-Chêne andreached Saint-Gatien. 

Behind her, in a cloud of dust and impelled by the steep incline, a mail-coach drawn by galloping horses advanced like a whirlwind. When he saw a woman in the middle of the road, who did not get outof the way, the driver stood up in his seat and shouted to her andso did the postilion, while the four horses, which he could nothold back, accelerated their pace; the two leaders were almostupon her; with a jerk of the reins he threw them to one side, but, furious at the incident, he lifted his big whip and lashed herfrom her head to her feet with such violence that she fell to theground unconscious. 

Her first thought, when she recovered her senses, was to open thebasket. Loulou was unharmed. She felt a sting on her right cheek;when she took her hand away it was red, for the blood was flowing. 

She sat down on a pile of stones, and sopped her cheek with herhandkerchief; then she ate a crust of bread she had put in herbasket, and consoled herself by looking at the bird. 

Arriving at the top of Ecquemanville, she saw the lights ofHonfleur shining in the distance like so many stars; further on, the ocean spread out in a confused mass. Then a weakness came overher; the misery of her childhood, the disappointment of her firstlove, the departure of her nephew, the death of Virginia; allthese things came back to her at once, and, rising like a swellingtide in her throat, almost choked her. 

Then she wished to speak to the captain of the vessel, and withoutstating what she was sending, she gave him some instructions. 

Fellacher kept the parrot a long time. He always promised that itwould be ready for the following week; after six months heannounced the shipment of a case, and that was the end of it. Really, it seemed as if Loulou would never come back to his home. "They have stolen him, " thought Félicité. 

Finally he arrived, sitting bolt upright on a branch which couldbe screwed into a mahogany pedestal, with his foot in the air, hishead on one side, and in his beak a nut which the naturalist, fromlove of the sumptuous, had gilded. She put him in her room. 

This place, to which only a chosen few were admitted, looked likea chapel and a second-hand shop, so filled was it with devotionaland heterogeneous things. The door could not be opened easily onaccount of the presence of a large wardrobe. Opposite the windowthat looked out into the garden, a bull's-eye opened on the yard;a table was placed by the cot and held a washbasin, two combs, anda piece of blue soap in a broken saucer. On the walls wererosaries, medals, a number of Holy Virgins, and a holy-water basinmade out of a cocoanut; on the bureau, which was covered with anapkin like an altar, stood the box of shells that Victor hadgiven her; also a watering-can and a balloon, writing-books, theengraved geography and a pair of shoes; on the nail which held themirror, hung Virginia's little plush hat! Félicité carried thissort of respect so far that she even kept one of Monsieur's oldcoats. All the things which Madame Aubain discarded, Félicitébegged for her own room. Thus, she had artificial flowers on theedge of the bureau, and the picture of the Comte d'Artois in therecess of the window. By means of a board, Loulou was set on aportion of the chimney which advanced into the room. Every morningwhen she awoke, she saw him in the dim light of dawn and recalledbygone days and the smallest details of insignificant actions, without any sense of bitterness or grief. 

As she was unable to communicate with people, she lived in a sortof somnambulistic torpor. The processions of Corpus-Christi Dayseemed to wake her up. She visited the neighbours to beg forcandlesticks and mats so as to adorn the temporary altars in thestreet. 

In church, she always gazed at the Holy Ghost, and noticed thatthere was something about it that resembled a parrot. The likenessappeared even more striking on a coloured picture by Espinal, representing the baptism of our Saviour. With his scarlet wingsand emerald body, it was really the image of Loulou. Having boughtthe picture, she hung it near the one of the Comte d'Artois sothat she could take them in at one glance. 

They associated in her mind, the parrot becoming sanctifiedthrough the neighbourhood of the Holy Ghost, and the latterbecoming more lifelike in her eyes, and more comprehensible. Inall probability the Father had never chosen as messenger a dove, as the latter has no voice, but rather one of Loulou's ancestors. And Félicité said her prayers in front of the coloured picture, though from time to time she turned slightly toward the bird. 

She desired very much to enter in the ranks of the "Daughters ofthe Virgin. " But Madame Aubain dissuaded her from it. 

A most important event occurred: Paul's marriage. 

After being first a notary's clerk, then in business, then in thecustoms, and a tax collector, and having even applied for aposition in the administration of woods and forests, he had atlast, when he was thirty-six years old, by a divine inspiration, found his vocation: registrature! and he displayed such a highability that an inspector had offered him his daughter and hisinfluence. 

Paul, who had become quite settled, brought his bride to visit hismother. 

But she looked down upon the customs of Pont-l'Evêque, put onairs, and hurt Félicité's feelings. Madame Aubain felt relievedwhen she left. 

The following week they learned of Monsieur Bourais' death in aninn. There were rumours of suicide, which were confirmed; doubtsconcerning his integrity arose. Madame Aubain looked over heraccounts and soon discovered his numerous embezzlements; sales ofwood which had been concealed from her, false receipts, etc. Furthermore, he had an illegitimate child, and entertained afriendship for "a person in Dozulé. "

These base actions affected her very much. In March, 1853, shedeveloped a pain in her chest; her tongue looked as if it werecoated with smoke, and the leeches they applied did not relieveher oppression; and on the ninth evening she died, being justseventy-two years old. 

People thought that she was younger, because her hair, which shewore in bands framing her pale face, was brown. Few friendsregretted her loss, for her manner was so haughty that she did notattract them. Félicité mourned for her as servants seldom mournfor their masters. The fact that Madame should die before herselfperplexed her mind and seemed contrary to the order of things, andabsolutely monstrous and inadmissible. Ten days later (the time tojourney from Besançon), the heirs arrived. Her daughter-in-lawransacked the drawers, kept some of the furniture, and sold therest; then they went back to their own home. 

Madame's armchair, foot-warmer, work-table, the eight chairs, everything was gone! The places occupied by the pictures formedyellow squares on the walls. They had taken the two little beds, and the wardrobe had been emptied of Virginia's belongings!Félicité went upstairs, overcome with grief. 

The following day a sign was posted on the door; the chemistscreamed in her ear that the house was for sale. 

For a moment she tottered, and had to sit down. 

What hurt her most was to give up her room, --so nice for poorLoulou! She looked at him in despair and implored the Holy Ghost, and it was this way that she contracted the idolatrous habit ofsaying her prayers kneeling in front of the bird. Sometimes thesun fell through the window on his glass eye, and lighted a greatspark in it which sent Félicité into ecstasy. 

Her mistress had left her an income of three hundred and eightyfrancs. The garden supplied her with vegetables. As for clothes, she had enough to last her till the end of her days, and sheeconomised on the light by going to bed at dusk. 

She rarely went out, in order to avoid passing in front of thesecond-hand dealer's shop where there was some of the oldfurniture. Since her fainting spell, she dragged her leg, and asher strength was failing rapidly, old Mother Simon, who had losther money in the grocery business, came every morning to chop thewood and pump the water. 

Her eyesight grew dim. She did not open the shutters after that. Many years passed. But the house did not sell or rent. Fearingthat she would be put out, Félicité did not ask for repairs. Thelaths of the roof were rotting away, and during one whole winterher bolster was wet. After Easter she spit blood. 

Then Mother Simon went for a doctor. Félicité wished to know whather complaint was. But, being too deaf to hear, she caught onlyone word: "Pneumonia. " She was familiar with it and gentlyanswered:--"Ah! like Madame, " thinking it quite natural that sheshould follow her mistress. 

The time for the altars in the street drew near. 

The first one was always erected at the foot of the hill, thesecond in front of the post-office, and the third in the middle ofthe street. This position occasioned some rivalry among the womenand they finally decided upon Madame Aubain's yard. 

Félicité's fever grew worse. She was sorry that she could not doanything for the altar. If she could, at least, have contributedsomething toward it! Then she thought of the parrot. Herneighbours objected that it would not be proper. But the curé gavehis consent and she was so grateful for it that she begged him toaccept after her death, her only treasure, Loulou. From Tuesdayuntil Saturday, the day before the event, she coughed morefrequently. In the evening her face was contracted, her lips stuckto her gums and she began to vomit; and on the following day, shefelt so low that she called for a priest. 

Three neighbours surrounded her when the dominie administered theExtreme Unction. Afterwards she said that she wished to speak toFabu. 

He arrived in his Sunday clothes, very ill at ease among thefunereal surroundings. 

"Forgive me, " she said, making an effort to extend her arm, "Ibelieved it was you who killed him!"

What did such accusations mean? Suspect a man like him of murder!And Fabu became excited and was about to make trouble. 

"Don't you see she is not in her right mind?"

From time to time Félicité spoke to shadows. The women left herand Mother Simon sat down to breakfast. 

A little later, she took Loulou and holding him up to Félicité:

"Say good-bye to him, now!" she commanded. 

Although he was not a corpse, he was eaten up by worms; one of hiswings was broken and the wadding was coming out of his body. ButFélicité was blind now, and she took him and laid him against hercheek. Then Mother Simon removed him in order to set him on thealtar. 

CHAPTER V

THE VISION

The grass exhaled an odour of summer; flies buzzed in the air, thesun shone on the river and warmed the slated roof. Old MotherSimon had returned to Félicité and was peacefully falling asleep. 

The ringing of bells woke her; the people were coming out ofchurch. Félicité's delirium subsided. By thinking of theprocession, she was able to see it as if she had taken part in it. All the school-children, the singers and the firemen walked on thesidewalks, while in the middle of the street came first thecustodian of the church with his halberd, then the beadle with alarge cross, the teacher in charge of the boys and a sisterescorting the little girls; three of the smallest ones, with curlyheads, threw rose leaves into the air; the deacon with outstretchedarms conducted the music; and two incense-bearers turned with eachstep they took toward the Holy Sacrament, which was carried byM. Le Curé, attired in his handsome chasuble and walking under acanopy of red velvet supported by four men. A crowd of peoplefollowed, jammed between the walls of the houses hung with whitesheets; at last the procession arrived at the foot of the hill. 

A cold sweat broke out on Félicité's forehead. Mother Simon wipedit away with a cloth, saying inwardly that some day she would haveto go through the same thing herself. 

The murmur of the crowd grew louder, was very distinct for amoment and then died away. A volley of musketry shook thewindow-panes. It was the postilions saluting the Sacrament. 

Félicité rolled her eyes and said as loudly as she could:

"Is he all right?" meaning the parrot. 

Her death agony began. A rattle that grew more and more rapidshook her body. Froth appeared at the corners of her mouth, andher whole frame trembled. In a little while could be heard themusic of the bass horns, the clear voices of the children and themen's deeper notes. At intervals all was still, and their shoessounded like a herd of cattle passing over the grass. 

The clergy appeared in the yard. Mother Simon climbed on a chairto reach the bull's-eye, and in this manner could see the altar. It was covered with a lace cloth and draped with green wreaths. Inthe middle stood a little frame containing relics; at the cornerswere two little orange-trees, and all along the edge were silvercandlesticks, porcelain vases containing sun-flowers, lilies, peonies, and tufts of hydrangeas. This mound of bright coloursdescended diagonally from the first floor to the carpet thatcovered the sidewalk. Rare objects arrested one's eye. A goldensugar-bowl was crowned with violets, earrings set with Alençonstones were displayed on green moss, and two Chinese screens withtheir bright landscapes were near by. Loulou, hidden beneathroses, showed nothing but his blue head which looked like a pieceof lapis-lazuli. 

The singers, the canopy-bearers and the children lined up againstthe sides of the yard. Slowly the priest ascended the steps andplaced his shining sun on the lace cloth. Everybody knelt. Therewas deep silence; and the censers slipping on their chains wereswung high in the air. A blue vapour rose in Félicité's room. Sheopened her nostrils and inhaled it with a mystic sensuousness;then she closed her lids. Her lips smiled. The beats of her heartgrew fainter and fainter, and vaguer, like a fountain giving out, like an echo dying away;--and when she exhaled her last breath, she thought she saw in the half-opened heavens a gigantic parrothovering above her head.