Part 60 (2/2)
x.x.xVIII
THE SMALL GATE IN THE GARDEN ONCE MORE
Sans-Souci rode beside the postilion, despite Monsieur Gerval's request that he should take a seat in the carriage; but he was fully determined to act as scout, fearing mishaps on account of the deep ruts and the wretched roads. His joy was so great at the thought of returning to the farm with Madame Murville, that he was unwilling to depend upon any other than himself to avert such accidents as might happen to them on the way.
During the journey, Jacques told his old G.o.dfather of the adventures of his youth; the story of the philters and the magnetism amused honest Gerval and extorted a smile from Adeline.
”What happy chance brought you to our house so opportunely, with your brave companion, to save us from the knives of the robbers?” old Catherine asked Jacques.
”A few days after my dear Adeline's departure,” said Jacques, ”as she did not return to the farm, and as I feared, with good reason, that some unfortunate accident must have happened to her, I started off with Sans-Souci, determined to travel all over France if necessary, to find the mother and child. We went to Paris and stayed there several days, but all to no purpose; I could not learn anything as to the fate of those whom I sought. After going back to the farm to bid honest Guillot and his wife good-bye, we started off again, and we visited one after another all the provinces of France, stopping in the smallest towns, in the most modest hamlets, making the most minute inquiries everywhere, and always disappointed in our hopes. More than a year pa.s.sed and our search had come to nothing. But Sans-Souci, whose good spirits never fail, sustained my courage and revived my hopes when he saw that my grief and my sadness increased. We at last turned our steps toward this province, with no expectation of being more fortunate here. After travelling through part of Franche-Comte, we entered the Vosges. As we were not afraid of robbers, we often travelled at night, and even more often slept on the ground, as we did not always find shelter on our road. Yesterday, however, the weather was so bad, and the snow had blocked the roads so completely, that we lost ourselves in the woods. I was numb with cold and almost exhausted, when Sans-Souci spied near at hand a fine looking house. I dared not ask hospitality, but Sans-Souci insisted upon stopping; and we were still disputing, when we heard shrieks inside the house; then we no longer hesitated, but I rang violently at the gate. Sans-Souci discovered an open window on the ground floor, from which the bars had been removed, and we jumped into the room. Imagine my surprise and my joy when I found there the woman whom I had been looking for so long, and whom I should have left behind forever, if your cry had not drawn me into the house.”
”My dear Jacques, it was surely Providence that sent you to our help,”
said Monsieur Gerval; ”but the greatest miracle of all is that that event has restored our dear Adeline's reason.”
”Well, monsieur, didn't I tell you so?” said Catherine; ”all that was needed was a violent shock, a crisis; and that is just what has happened.”
The journey was made without accident, and they arrived at Guillot's farm. Jacques was conscious of a pleasant thrill of emotion as he pa.s.sed the fields in which he had worked.
”Yonder,” he said to good Monsieur Gerval, ”is the plow with which I turned up this ground, so often wet with my sweat.”
”My friend,” replied the old man, ”never forget it even in the lap of prosperity, and the unfortunate will never apply to you in vain.”
A carriage drawn by four horses is a great event in a country town. The villagers, the farm hands, left their work, and the people from the farm drew near with curiosity to look at the travellers; but Sans-Souci's joy had made itself heard already; he cracked his whip in such a way as to make the chickens fly a league, while the pigeons took refuge on the tallest chimneys.
”It's us, it's him, it's her!” he shouted, as soon as he caught sight of Louise and Guillot; ”give us a big feast, my friends,--cabbage soup and the light white wine! death to the rabbits and chickens!”
The villagers surrounded the carriage; Jacques, Adeline and Ermance were embraced, caressed, and made much of by everybody. Louise wept, Guillot swore aloud in his joy, and the old man was deeply moved by the sincere affection which they all manifested for his children; for that was what he called Jacques, Adeline and her daughter; and they escorted him in triumph to the farm, where everything was soon turned topsy-turvy to celebrate the return of those whom they had not expected to see again.
Amid the joy, the confusion, and the preparations for the feast, Sans-Souci ran from one to another, tried to help everybody, broke plates, upset saucepans, and exclaimed at every instant:
”You don't know all; Jacques is rich now, and this excellent old man is his G.o.dfather; we saved his life; we killed the rascals! I will tell you all about it.”
”I see,” said Guillot, ”things seem to be going pretty well; but what about our friend Jacques's brother?”
”Hus.h.!.+” said Sans-Souci, putting his finger to his lips; ”if you have the misfortune to speak of him, gayety will disappear, tears will come back, and your supper will be for the great Turk; so take my advice, and turn your tongue over for an hour in your mouth, rather than say another stupid word on that subject.”
”All right,” said Guillot, ”I'll chew my cud at the table before I speak.”
Life at the farm delighted Monsieur Gerval; he drove all about the neighborhood, admiring the charming sites and the fertile fields which surrounded him.
”Morgue, monsieur,” said Guillot, ”if you knew how pretty it all is in summer! Bless my soul, you don't see anything now! but if our fields are worth more, if our farm brings in more, we owe it all to our friend Jacques; in two years he did more and thought of more things than I could ever do in six; he's worth three hands all by himself. It is a pity he's rich now, for it robs me of a fine workman.”
”My dear Jacques,” said the old man, ”you must love this country, these fields, which have witnessed your labors, and it would be cruel in me to take you away from here. We will settle in this neighborhood, my friend, and I leave it to you to purchase some suitable estate here-about; arrange it to suit yourself; I am too old to attend to business matters, and I rely upon you to make a wise choice.”
Jacques joyfully accepted the commission entrusted to him. He already had a plan in his head, and on the day following his arrival at the farm, impelled by a secret hope, he went early in the morning to Villeneuve-Saint-Georges. Trembling with emotion, he approached his father's house, that spot for which he had always sighed. His dearest wish was to pa.s.s the rest of his life in that house, which recalled memories which were both pleasant and painful.
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