Part 7 (1/2)
And so she had come forward, small but formidable--the queen! She knew also that in former times, in the days of pagan Europe, an immortal G.o.ddess had issued from the sea, had sprung forth, fair and naked, like a marvellous flower, and, standing on the blue waves, her feet resting in a sh.e.l.l of mother-of-pearl, had long held sway over men--before the reign of Jesus Christ.
Renaud, turning in his saddle, saw the gipsy standing there, still naked, waving her arms in the sunlight, as if she wished still, from afar, to hold Livette's betrothed spellbound and fascinated by her beauty.
The sun disappeared below the horizon, and the naked woman's figure, even more mysterious in the gathering twilight, was outlined in black against a coppery red sky.
VIII
ON THE BENCH
From Saintes-Maries, whither he went to ask how many bulls he was expected to bring on the day of the fete, Renaud rode away at once to the Chateau d'Avignon.
He was in haste to see Livette once more, and sitting by her side to forget the scene of the afternoon, to which, despite his efforts, his mind constantly reverted.
A ride of four or five leagues and he reached his destination.
Livette and her father and grandmother were sitting just outside the farm-house, enjoying the fresh air on the stone bench against the facade of the chateau, among the old climbing rose-bushes which frame the windows above with their bunches of green leaves interspersed with flowers.
This was also one of the favorite resorts of our lovers, who liked to have above their heads the perfumed foliage, to which one of the nightingales from the park often came to sing.
”Ah! good-evening, Jacques.”
”Good-evening, all.”
”What brings you so late? You have dined, of course?”
”I ate some anchovies at the Saintes----”
”They're good for nothing but to give you an appet.i.te. Would you like something else? you have only to speak.”
”Thanks, Master Audiffret. I'll just go and look after Blanchet in the stable and then come back. I won't go to the _ja.s.s_ to-night. I'll sleep in the hay-loft with the horses.”
Master Audiffret, with his pipe between his lips, rose and followed Renaud as far as the door of the stable, and from there watched him rub down his horse.
”Whenever you please, Master Audiffret, you can take him back for Livette. I don't find any faults in him; far from it. He is a good horse, and very gentle.”
”He is quiet with you because you tire him out, you see; but she didn't use him every day, not by any means; I am always afraid for her. If she takes a fancy to ride him sometimes, you can lend him to her, and take the first horse that comes along for yourself. By the way, I hope you will soon have your Cabri again. Somebody saw Rampal yesterday in Crau. He was riding your horse, so he hasn't sold him, at all events. It's fair to suppose he means to bring him back to you.”
”Oh! I will go to meet him,” said Jacques, ”for as to thinking he will bring him back to me--oh! no; he would have done that before now!--Can you tell me, Audiffret, where Rampal was seen yesterday?”
”Between Tibert's farm and Icard's in Crau. Right there, as you know, in the middle of a bog, is a hut you can only get to by a plank walk built on piles and covered by the water--you can only tell where it is, when you know the place, by stakes sticking up at intervals the whole length of the walk. I have an idea he means to go in hiding there, the beggar, like the deserter who went there to pa.s.s his time of service----”
”Aha! he has gone to the Conscript's Hut, has he? Very good; I will go to see him there, never fear!” said Renaud.
Blanchet, having been well rubbed down, was grinding the good lucern between his teeth. Renaud went out of the stable, and with Audiffret sat down beside Livette and the grandmother.
All four kept silence for a long moment. Nothing could be heard but the unceasing, melancholy croaking of the frogs, and beneath it, but indistinguishable, the dull murmuring of the two Rhones and the sea.
The sky was swarming with innumerable tiny stars, which seemed to answer the various noises of the palpitating moor; and, just as the waters of the Rhone, after it rushes into the blue ocean, pursue their own course for a long while therein, unmingled, without losing their earthy color; so the Milky-Way, made of a dust of stars, pursued its course, easily distinguishable, through the ocean of starry worlds.
Renaud had a feeling of constraint.