Part 23 (1/2)

When he went down again, Blanchet was standing alone in front of the mangers, nibbling at the hay.--Renaud ran to the door. Livette, having removed Prince's halter, was shouting at him and waving her pretty arms to drive him away, naked and free. Honest Audiffret, delighted at his daughter's cunning, laughed and laughed. And Prince, overjoyed to return to the desert after these few days of slavery, thinking no more of the oats to be had at the chateau, stood erect like a goat, neighed shrilly with delight, shook his luxuriant mane, flung up his tail and thrashed the air, alive with the flies he had driven from his flanks--and darted away toward the horizon through the lane between the trees in the park.

Renaud had no choice but to submit with an affectation of grat.i.tude, and to laugh with the rest;--but it was more distasteful to him than ever to ride a horse that belonged to him less than any other in the drove, a horse that was his fiancee's.

Thereupon, Audiffret went about his various tasks; and, two hours later, when they were all a.s.sembled in the lower room of the farm-house, Renaud, being suddenly seized with _ennui_ at the thought that he was likely at any moment to have to endure an embarra.s.sing tete-a-tete with this same Livette whose company he had so ardently desired a few days before, spoke of taking his leave. Audiffret remonstrated, and invited him to supper. They would drink a gla.s.s in honor of his victory. Renaud refused awkwardly, conscious how lacking in courtesy such an utterly motiveless refusal was.

But when the grandmother, who hardly ever spoke, urged him to stay, he stayed.

The old woman rarely spoke, for her thoughts were always with the dead and gone grandfather, who had been the faithful companion of her toilsome life. She was slowly drying up, like wood that is sound in all its fibres, but has lost its sap. Hers was a lovely old age, such as are seen in the land of the gra.s.shopper, where people live sober lives, preserved by the light. Already advanced in years when she came to Camargue, she had never suffered from the malevolence of the swamps. It was too late. The cypress-tree does not allow the worms to draw their lines upon its surface.

She was patiently awaiting death, sometimes mumbling _paters_ upon her rosary of olive-nuts, gazing fearlessly, with her dimmed eyes, straight before her at the vague shadow wherein her departed old man, her good, faithful Tiennet, was waiting for her;--Tiennet, who had never, in forty years, caused her a pang, and whom she had never wronged by a smile, even in the days of her gayest youth. Tiennet, from the depths of the shadow, sometimes called to her softly, and then the old woman would be heard to murmur, in a dreamy voice: ”I am coming, good man! I am coming!”

Being left alone for a moment with Livette, just before supper, Renaud did not know what to say. Nor did she. He did not dare to lie, and she hoped that he would open his heart and confess. At one moment, she felt that the very fact of his silence was sufficient proof of his treachery, and the next moment, on the contrary, she said to herself: ”If there was an understanding between them, he would not be here! I was mad! He loves me.”

At supper, he was very talkative, told about his battles and his hunting exploits; how, the year before, with that rascal of a Rampal, he had beaten up two coveys of partridges, on horseback, in a single morning. They had taken twenty-eight, more than twenty being killed on the wing at a single casting of their staves, Arab-fas.h.i.+on.

Audiffret, overjoyed at the recovery of a horse he had thought lost forever, drew from under the woodpile an old-fas.h.i.+oned bottle, a gift from the masters, those masters who are always absent--like all the landowners of Camargue, who prefer to dwell in cities,--Paris, Ma.r.s.eilles, or Montpellier,--leaving the desert to their _bailiffs_.

”Ah! the masters in old times!” said Audiffret, ”they had more courage and were better served and better loved!” Renaud, becoming more and more animated, stood up for the times we live in. The grandmother, grave and serious as always, said once to Audiffret at table, speaking of Renaud: ”Wait upon your son, my son.” Well, well, he was decidedly one of the family.

And that certainty, which it behooved him to retain at any price, instead of moving his heart to grat.i.tude, led him on to play the hypocrite. He was ready to betray Livette, without renouncing her, for he loved her so dearly, so sincerely, that he felt that he was ready, on the other hand, to renounce the gitana, without too great a pang, if circ.u.mstances should make it necessary. He laughed a great deal, raising his gla.s.s with great frequency, and winking involuntarily at Audiffret, as if to say: ”We are sly fellows!” But honest Audiffret could not detect his excitement. He had never interested himself in anything except the farm accounts. He had never divined anything in all his life, not he!--As far as the gipsy was concerned, she certainly would not leave Saintes-Maries before the fete, that is to say, for a week or more. After that, she could go where she chose! it would make little difference to him. What could he hope for from a wandering creature like that? An hour's meeting at the cross-roads on the way to Arles! Nothing more!

As to Zinzara, he had hopes; as to Livette, he had certainty. And he was very light of heart.

So it was, that, when the time came for him to take his leave, he indulged in an outburst of affection toward his new family, quite contrary to his usual habit, and to the habit of all drovers, who are rough-mannered by profession.

You must know that the peasants, in general, do not kiss except on great occasions--weddings or baptisms. Only the mothers kiss their young children. The man of the soil is of stern mould.

”Audiffret,” the grandmother suddenly said to her son, laying her knitting on the table and her spectacles on her knitting;--”Audiffret, every day brings me a little nearer the end, and I would like to see this marriage take place before I die. You must hurry it as much as possible, now that it's decided on. And if I can't be present on the wedding-day, don't forget, my children, that the old woman blessed you from the bottom of her heart to-night.”

And, without another word, she calmly took up the stockings and needles.

She had spoken almost without inflection, in a grave, calm tone, moving her lips only.

Every one was deeply moved. Livette looked at Renaud. He, carried away by his emotion, forgot everything except this new family that offered itself to him, the orphan. Livette saw it and was grateful to him for it. She felt that he was won back, like the stolen horse, and she sprang to her feet in a burst of enthusiasm.

”Kiss me, my betrothed!” said she proudly.

He kissed her with heartfelt sincerity.

The father and the grandmother looked on with eyes that gradually became dim with tears.

When he had pressed the father's hand, Renaud turned to the grandmother, as she stuck her knitting-needle into the white hair that fluttered about her temples.

”Kiss me, grandmother!” he said, with a smile.

The old woman gave a leap, then stood erect, recoiling a little as if in fear:

”Since my husband died, no man has ever kissed me,” she said, ”not even my son there! Let young people kiss. Life is before them. I,” she added, ”am already with the dead.”