In the throes of constantly returning terror, Adeline talked more than usual, and Catherine did not leave her side. But she shuddered at the broken phrases that the stranger uttered:

"Take him from that scaffold!" Adeline exclaimed again and again, putting her hands before her eyes. "In pity's name, do not give him to the executioners! They are going to kill him! I hear his voice! But no, that plaintive cry did not come from his mouth; that was another victim.--Oh! I cannot be mistaken, I recognize his tones; they always go to my heart!"

Catherine shed tears; Monsieur Gerval caught a glimpse of a ghastly mystery, and the old servant repeated to her master:

"A scaffold! executioners! Ah! that makes one shudder, monsieur!"

"No matter," said the kindhearted Gerval; "if the young woman's husband or relatives are criminals I will keep her none the less. She is not guilty, I am sure; she is only unfortunate!"

"Yes, monsieur; but the monsters who have brought her to this condition!

they are very guilty; they deserve to be severely punished!"

"Yes, my poor Catherine; but we do not know them; let us leave to Providence the duty of avenging this unhappy creature, and let us not doubt its justice. It would be too horrible to think that the wicked may enjoy in peace the fruit of an evil deed, while the victim wastes her life away in tears and despair."

Monsieur Gerval summoned his servants again, and urged them to redouble their attention, in order to spare the young mother such dangerous emotion.

"No noise, no shouts in the neighborhood of her room! If you come together to talk and laugh, which I do not wish to forbid you to do, let it be in some room at a distance from Constance's so that she cannot hear you. Above all, no more questions; for they lead to no good result."

"Oh! I am done, monsieur," said the old servant; "I have no desire to learn anything more now; it strikes me as altogether too painful a subject; and I should be terribly distressed to pain a woman whom I should like to see happy once more."

Thanks to these precautions, Adeline became calm once more, and everything went on in its accustomed order. Some time pa.s.sed before they dared to let the invalid leave the house; and she no longer walked in the woods except under the escort of both Lucas and Catherine; and as soon as the peasants caught sight of her, knowing her condition and the orders that Monsieur Gerval had given, they quietly moved away from her path. If she approached, unperceived, a group of peasant girls, who were engaged in diverting themselves, their games, their dancing or singing were instantly suspended.

"It is the mad woman," they would whisper to one another; "let's not make any noise, for that makes her worse."

Time flew by without bringing any change in Adeline's condition; but her little Ermance grew rapidly and her features began to develop. Already her smile had the sweet expression of her mother's, and her affectionate heart seemed to have inherited Adeline's sensibility.

A year had pa.s.sed since Monsieur Gerval had taken Adeline and her daughter under his roof. Pretty Ermance loved the old man as she would have loved her father. Her little white hands patted her protector's white hair, and he became more and more attached every day to the sweet child.

"You have no parents," he said to her one night, taking her on his knees. "Your mother is dead to you, poor child! Your father is dead too, no doubt, or else he has abandoned you, and does not deserve your love.

I propose to a.s.sure your future; you shall be rich; and may you be happy and think sometimes of the old man who adopted you, but who will not live long enough to see you enjoy his gifts!"

The winter came and stripped the trees of their foliage and the earth of the verdure which embellished it. The woods were deserted, the birds had gone to seek shade and water beneath another sky. The snow, falling in great flakes on the mountains, lay in huge drifts among the Vosges, and made the roads difficult for pedestrians and impracticable for carriages. The evenings grew long, and the whistling of the wind made them melancholy and gloomy. The peasant, who was forced to pa.s.s through the woods, made haste to reach his home, for fear of being overtaken by the darkness; he hurried along, blowing on his fingers, and his footprints in the snow often served to guide the traveller who had lost his way.

However, ennui did not find its way into honest Gerval's abode; all the inmates were able to employ their time profitably. The old man read, or attended to his business and wrote to his farmers. Dupre made up his accounts, and looked after the wants of the household; Catherine did the housework and the cooking, and Lucas looked after his garden and tried to protect his trees and his flowers from the rigors of the season.

Adeline did not leave her room except in the morning, when she made the circuit of the garden a few times; she was rarely seen in the other parts of the house. As soon as night came, she withdrew to her room, sometimes taking her daughter with her; when, by any chance, she remained with her host in the evening, she sat beside Catherine, who told the child stories, while Gerval played a game of piquet or backgammon with Dupre, and Lucas spelled out in a great book a story of thieves or ghosts.

When a violent gust of wind made the windows creak, and blew against them the branches of the trees which stood near the house, Lucas, who was not courageous, but who loved to frighten himself by reading terrifying stories, would drop his book and look about him in dismay; the monotonous noise of the weatherc.o.c.k on the roof, the uniform beating of an iron hook against the wall, were so many subjects of alarm to the gardener.

Sometimes Adeline would break the silence, crying:

"There he is! I hear him!" and Lucas would jump from his chair, thinking that someone was really about to appear. Then Catherine would make fun of the gardener, his master would scold him for his cowardice, and Lucas, to restore his courage, would take his book and continue his ghost story.

x.x.xVI

THE TRUTH SOMETIMES SEEMS IMPROBABLE

The snow had fallen with more violence and in greater abundance than usual; the gusts of wind constantly snapped off branches of the trees and hurled them far away across the roads, which soon became impa.s.sable.

The clock struck eight and it had long been dark.

Adeline, whom the roaring of the tempest made more melancholy than usual, had not left her room during the day. Catherine had brought Ermance downstairs and put her to bed beside her mother, who was sitting in a chair and refused to retire so early, despite the old servant's entreaties. The master of the house was playing his usual game with Dupre, and Lucas had just taken up his great book, when the bell at the gate rang loudly.

"Somebody is ringing," said Monsieur Gerval; "company so late as this, and in such weather!"

"It is very strange!" repeated Lucas.

"Shall I open the door, monsieur?" asked Dupre.

"Why, we must find out first who it is; it may be travellers who have got lost in the mountains and cannot go any farther, or some unfortunate creature whom the villagers have sent to me, as they sometimes do. I hear Catherine coming, she will tell us who it is."

Catherine had been to the door to look out, and she came up again to take her master's orders.

"Monsieur," she said, "it is three travellers, three peddlers, it would seem, for they have bales on their backs. They ask for shelter for to-night, as they cannot go on, because there are more than two feet of snow on the road. One of them is a poor old man who seems to suffer much from the cold. Shall I let them in?"

"Certainly, and we will do our best for them."

"But, monsieur," said Dupre, "three men, at night--that is rather imprudent!"

"Why so, Dupre? They are peddlers and one of them is old; what have we to fear? It is perfectly natural that they should seek shelter in bad weather; ought I to leave people to lose their way among these mountains, for fear of entertaining vagabonds? Ah! my friend, if it were necessary to read the hearts of those whom one succors, one would do good too seldom! Go and let them in quickly, Catherine; do not leave these travellers at the gate any longer; and do you, Dupre, make a big fire so that they may dry themselves; and Lucas will prepare the small room which I always reserve for visitors."

Catherine went down and opened the gate for the travellers, who overwhelmed her with thanks. The two younger ones held the old man by the arms, and only with great difficulty did they succeed in helping him up the staircase to the first floor, where the master of the house awaited them in the living-room.

"Welcome, messieurs," said honest Gerval, inviting them to draw near the fire. "First of all, let us make this old gentleman comfortable; he seems completely exhausted."

"Yes, monsieur," said the aged stranger in a tremulous voice, "the cold has so affected me that, except for the help of my children, I should have remained on the road."

"You will soon feel better, my good man. Messieurs, take off those bales, which are in your way, and I will send them to the room which you are to occupy."

The peddlers deposited in a corner of the room several bundles which seemed to contain linens, handkerchiefs and muslin; Dupre, who was a little suspicious, walked to the bundles and examined them; one of the young men noticed his action, and made haste to open several of them and exhibit his wares to the old servant.

"If there's anything that takes your fancy, say so, monsieur," he said; "we will do our best to please you."

"Thanks," replied Dupre, seeing that his master appeared displeased by his inspection of the bundles; "we can see these things better to-morrow morning."

The two peddlers returned to the old man, and sat down in front of the fire. Catherine brought a bottle of wine and gla.s.ses, and Lucas took up the bundles and carried them to the room on the second floor.

"Here is something that will warm you while your supper is preparing,"

said Monsieur Gerval, filling the strangers' gla.s.ses. "Drink, messieurs,--it is very good."

"With pleasure," said that one of the young men who had already spoken to Dupre. "An excellent thing is good wine! Here, father; here, Jean; your health, monsieur."

"Are these your sons?" Monsieur Gerval asked the old man.

"Yes, monsieur, they are my support, the staff of my old age. This is Gervais, my oldest; he is always merry, always ready to laugh; and this is Jean, my youngest, he isn't so light-hearted as his brother, he doesn't speak much, but he is a steady fellow, a great worker and very economical. I love them both, for they are honest and incapable of deceiving anybody, and with those qualities a man is certain to make his way."

"I congratulate you on having such children; but why do you go on the road with them at your age?"