Part 15 (1/2)
Meanwhile there was more than ordinary animation among the girls stationed behind the groups of men. They were scanning all the church doors, whence were now issuing good women, tellers of rosaries, who had lingered long over their devotions.
”He is coming out,” exclaimed tall Aimee Ma.s.sonneau, the daughter of farmer Glorieux, of Terre-Aymont. ”Did you see him, that poor Mathurin Lumineau? He insisted upon coming to ma.s.s. I am sure he might have got dispensation!”
”Yes,” returned the little auburn-haired daughter of Malabrit, ”it is six years since he came to Sallertaine.”
”Six years--really?”
”Yes, I remember. It was the year my sister was married.”
”And why do you think he came?” asked Victoire Guerineau, of La Pinconniere, a sharp-tongued pretty girl, with a complexion like a wild rose. ”For he must have shown some spirit to manage it.”
”To stand by his father,” said a voice; ”the old man had been so saddened by the going of Eleonore and Francois.”
”To show himself with his brother Andre,” put in another. ”He's a good-looking fellow is Andre Lumineau! I should not mind----”
Victoire Guerineau and the others broke into a peal of laughter.
”You are quite out of it. It's for Felicite Gauvrit he came!”
”Oh, oh!” exclaimed those in front.
”How ill-natured you are! If she were to hear you.”
And several turned towards the Michelonnes' doorstep, near to which, amid a little throng, stood Mathurin's former fiancee.
Suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd.
”There he is. Poor fellow! How difficult it is for him to walk.”
And under the pointed arch of a low doorway, one half of which only was open, a deformed figure was seen struggling to force a pa.s.sage through the narrow aperture, one hand holding a crutch clutched hold of a pillar outside, by which the poor man strove to drag himself through, but he had only succeeded in freeing one shoulder. With head thrown back, there was an expression of agony upon the face which attested the violence of the effort, and the strength of will that would not give in. Mathurin Lumineau seemed on the point of suffocation; he looked at no one in the throng of people whose gaze was riveted upon him; his eyes on a higher level than those of the spectators were fixed upon the blue vault of heaven with an expression of anguish that re-acted upon them.
Conversation was interrupted; voices began to murmur,
”Oh, help him! He is suffocating!”
Some of the men made a movement to go to his a.s.sistance; at that moment, from the gloom of the interior, his father asked:
”Shall I help you out, Mathurin? You cannot squeeze through there. Let me help you.”
In a low voice, inaudible to those without, but with terrible energy, Mathurin answered:
”Don't touch me. Confound it! Don't touch me. I will get out by myself.”
At length the man forced his huge bust through the door, and with a tremendous effort steadied himself, stroked his tawny beard and settled his hat on his head. Then with the aid of his crutches, standing as upright as he could, Mathurin looked straight before him, and advanced towards the group of men, which opened out silently at his approach. No one ventured to address him, it was so long since he had been among them, the old habit of familiarity seemed lost; but the attention of all was concentrated upon their former comrade, and no one noticed that his old father with Andre and Marie-Rose were following close behind him.
The cripple had soon reached the spot where the girls were standing.
They fell apart even more quickly than the men had done, for they guessed his intention; a lane opened between them reaching up to the houses. At the far end of this living avenue, clad in black dresses and white coifs, standing erect, quite alone, was seen Felicite Gauvrit. She was the one he sought. She knew it; she had foreseen her triumph. No sooner had she observed Mathurin Lumineau sitting on the family bench in church, then she had said to herself: ”He has come for me. I will hide away by the Michelonnes' house, and he will follow me.” For she was gratified to have it seen that he still loved her, the girl to whom, handsome though she was, no suitors came. The women with whom she had been talking had prudently moved away; she stood alone, under the Michelonnes' window, looking like a lay figure from some museum in her costume of heavy stiff material, the braids of her l.u.s.trous brown hair s.h.i.+ning under the small coif, her dazzlingly white complexion and uncovered throat. Erect, with arms pendant on either side of the moire ap.r.o.n, she watched her former lover coming towards her between the double row of inquisitive lookers-on. The many faces bent upon the girl in nowise intimidated her. Perhaps in the suit and cravat Mathurin was wearing she recognised the very ones he had worn at the time of the accident; any way, she remained calm and unabashed, her face even wore a slight smile. He drew nearer, leaning on his crutches, his eyes fixed, not on the path, but on Felicite Gauvrit.
What the poor fellow wanted was to see her once again; to make her understand that health was returning, that hope was awakening out of his misery, that the heart of Mathurin Lumineau had never wavered.
All this his sad eyes told her as he drew near, offering in piteous pleading the bodily and mental suffering he had endured to her who had been their cause. But his strength was unequal to the effort, he grew deadly white; and when the insolent beauty, the first to speak, said calmly before all the throng: