stories by english authors in france(旅法英国作家的故事)-第9节
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Reine Allix； in the fashion of her country and her breeding； was about to
confer with the master and mistress ere saying a word to the girl； but there
was that in Margot's face and in her timid greeting that lured speech out of
her。 She looked long and keenly into the child's downcast countenance；
then touched her with a tender smile。 〃Petite Margot； the birds told me a
little secret to…day。 Canst guess what it is？ Say？〃
Margot coloured and then grew pale。 True； Bernadou had never really
spoken to her； but still； when one is seventeen； and has danced a few times
with the same person； and has plucked the leaves of a daisy away to learn
one's fortune； spoken words are not very much wanted。
At sight of her the eyes of the old woman moistened and grew dimmer
than age had made them； she smiled still； but the smile had the sweetness
of a blessing in it； and no longer the kindly banter of humour。 〃You love
him； my little one？〃 she said； in a soft； hushed voice。
〃Ah； madame！〃 Margot could not say more。 She covered her face with
her hands； and turned to the wall； and wept with a passion of joy。
Down in the Berceau there were gossips who would have said； with
wise shakes of their heads； 〃Tut； tut！ how easy it is to make believe in a
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little love when one is a serving…maid； and has not a sou； nor a roof； nor a
friend in the world； and a comely youth well…to…do is willing to marry us！〃
But Reine Allix knew better。 She had not lived ninety years in the
world not to be able to discern between true feeling and counterfeit。 She
was touched； and drew the trembling frame of Margot into her arms； and
kissed her twice on the closed； blue…veined lids of her black eyes。 〃Make
him happy； only make him happy；〃 she murmured； 〃for I am very old；
Margot； and he is alone； all alone。〃
And the child crept to her； sobbing for very rapture that she； friendless；
homeless； and penniless； should be thus elected for so fair a fate； and
whispered through her tears； 〃I will。〃
Reine Allix spoke in all form to the miller and his wife； and with as
much earnestness in her demand as though she had been seeking the hand
of rich Yacobe； the tavern…keeper's only daughter。 The people assented；
they had no pretext to oppose； and Reine Allix wrapped her cloak about
her and descended the hill and the street just as the twilight closed in and
the little lights began to glimmer through the lattices and the shutters and
the green mantle of the boughs； while the red fires of the smithy forge
glowed brightly in the gloom； and a white horse waited to be shod； a boy
in a blue blouse seated on its back and switching away with a branch of
budding hazel the first gray gnats of the early year。
〃It is well done； it is well done；〃 she said to herself； looking at the low
rosy clouds and the pale gold of the waning sky。 〃A year or two； and I
shall be in my grave。 I shall leave him easier if I know he has some
creature to care for him； and I shall be quiet in my coffin； knowing that his
children's children will live on and on and on in the Berceau； and
sometimes perhaps think a little of me when the nights are long and they
sit round the fire。〃
She went in out of the dewy air； into the little low； square room of her
cottage； and went up to Bernadou and laid her hands on his shoulders。
〃Be it well with thee； my grandson； and with thy sons' sons after thee；〃
she said solemnly。 〃Margot will be thy wife。 May thy days and hers be
long in thy birthplace！〃
A month later they were married。 It was then May。 The green nest of
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the Berceau seemed to overflow with the singing of birds and the
blossoming of flowers。 The corn…lands promised a rare harvest； and the
apple orchards were weighed down with their red and white blossoms。 The
little brown streams in the woods brimmed over in the grass； and the air
was full of sweet mellow sunlight； a cool fragrant breeze； a continual
music of humming bees and soaring larks and mule…bells ringing on the
roads； and childish laughter echoing from the fields。
In this glad springtime Bernadou and Margot were wedded； going with
their friends one sunny morning up the winding hill…path to the little gray
chapel whose walls were hidden in ivy； and whose sorrowful Christ looked
down through the open porch across the blue and hazy width of the river。
Georges； the baker； whose fiddle made merry melody at all the village
dances； played before them tunefully； little children； with their hands full
of wood…flowers； ran before them； his old blind poodle smelt its way
faithfully by their footsteps； their priest led the way upward with the cross
held erect against the light； Reine Allix walked beside them； nearly as
firmly as she had trodden the same road seventy years before in her own
bridal hour。 In the hollow below lay the Berceau de Dieu； with its red
gables and its thatched roofs hidden beneath leaves； and its peaceful
pastures smiling under the serene blue skies of France。
They were happyah； heaven； so happy！and all their little world
rejoiced with them。
They came home and their neighbours entered with them； and ate and
drank； and gave them good wishes and gay songs； and the old priest
blessed them with a father's tenderness upon their threshold； and the fiddle
of Georges sent gladdest dance…music flying through the open casements；
across the road； up the hill； far away to the clouds and the river。
At night； when the guests had departed and all was quite still within
and without； Reine Allix sat alone at her window in the roof； thinking of
their future and of her past； and watching the stars come out； one by
another； above the woods。 From her lattice in the eaves she saw straight up
the village street； saw the dwellings of her lifelong neighbours； the slopes
of the rich fields； the gleam of the broad gray water； the whiteness of the
crucifix against the darkened skies。 She saw it allall so familiar； with that
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intimate association only possible to the peasant who has dwelt on one
spot from birth to age。 In that faint light； in those deep shadows； she could
trace all the scene as though the brightness of the moon shone on it； it was
all； in its homeliness and simplicity； intensely dear to her。 In the playtime
of her childhood； in the courtship of her youth； in the joys and woes of her
wifehood and widowhood； the bitter pains and sweet ecstasies of her
maternity； the hunger and privation of struggling desolate years； the
contentment and serenity of old agein all these her eyes had rested only
on this small； quaint； leafy street； with its dwellings close and low； like
bee…hives in a garden； and its pasture…lands and corn…lands； wood…girt and
water…fed； stretching as far as the sight could reach。 Every inch of its soil；
every turn of its paths； was hallowed to her with innumerable memories；
all her beloved dead were garnered there where the white Christ watched
them； when her time should come； she thought； she would rest with them
nothing loath。 As she looked； the tears of thanksgiving rolled down her
withered cheeks； and she bent her feeble limbs and knelt down in the
moonlight； praising God that He had given her to live and die in this
cherished home； and beseeching Him for her children that they likewise
might dwell in honesty； and with length of days abide beneath that roof。
〃God is good；〃 she murmured； as she stretched herself to sleep beneath
the eaves；〃God is good。 Maybe； when He takes me to Himself； if I be
worthy； He will tell His holy saints to give me a little corner in His
kingdom； that He shall fashion for me in the likeness of the Berceau。〃 For
it seemed to her that； than the Berceau； heaven itself could hold no sweeter
or fairer nook of Paradise。
The year r
