I 9 H 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 H. J. Patten 
 

 _^^TE DUE 
 
 
 ^nte^hbR 
 
 fj^roan 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRtNT€D IN U.SA 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027335763 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PQ 2603.O65M2 1914 
 
 House 
 
 3 1924 027 335 763 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
EOBUM MEMOBI^ 
 
 QUI DOMUM ET JBDIFICAVEBUNT 
 
 ET SALVAM SERVAVEBUNT 
 
 SACBUM 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 By 
 
 HENRY BORDEAUX 
 
 Author of "The Parting of the Ways," "The Woollen 
 
 Dress," "The Fear of Living," "Footprints 
 
 Beneath the Snow," 
 
 Translated hy 
 Louise Seymour Houghton 
 
 Omni regnum divisum contra se desolabitur; 
 et omnis civitas vel domus divisa centra se 
 non stabit. —Matt. XII,, S5. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DUFFIELD & COMPANY 
 
 1914. 
 
 E V. 
 
?a 
 
 Copyright, 191S, by 
 PLON-NOURRIT & COMPANT 
 
 Copyright, 1914, by 
 DUFFIELD & COMPANY 
 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Book I 
 
 I The Kingdom 3 
 
 II The Dynasty 26 
 
 III The Enemies 57 
 
 IV The Treaty 74 
 
 V The Abdication 94 
 
 Book II 
 
 I The Pictures 109 
 
 II The Desire 134 
 
 III The Discovery of the Earth . . . .149 
 IV The Cape of the Navigators . . . .170 
 
 V The Religious Controversy . . . .186 
 
 Book III 
 
 I Politics 203 
 
 II The Circus 228 
 
 III The Plot 244 
 
 IV My Betrayal 259 
 
 V The DotJBLE Life 282 
 
 VI A Walk with Father 298 
 
 VII The First Departure 317 
 
 Book IV 
 I The Epidemic 337 
 
 II The Alpette 358 
 
 III The End of a Reign 378 
 
 IV The Heir 401 
 
BOOK FIRST 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 THE KINGDOM 
 
 " Wheee are you going? " 
 
 " Oh, up to the house." 
 
 Put this question to little girls and boys that you 
 see along the country roads, on their way from school 
 or coining in from the fields, and you will get this 
 answer. 
 
 Their bright eyes glisten like grass after a shower ; 
 their speech, unless they are timid, shoots straight 
 out, like plants that claim all space to grow in un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 " Where are you going? " 
 
 They do not answer " home " ; nor do they even 
 say " to our house." They say " the house." It 
 may be a wretched, tumble-down shed: all the same 
 it is the house, the only house in all the world. Some 
 day there will be others, — perhaps. But that is not 
 so certain, after all. 
 
 Even young men and women, and quite grown per- 
 sons, married folk, if you please, use the same ex- 
 pression. At the house they used to do this, at the 
 
4 THE HOUSE 
 
 house there was that. One might suppose they were 
 speaking of their present house. Not at all; they 
 are speaking of the house of their childhood, the 
 house where their father and mother lived, and which 
 they have not been able to keep, or the customs of 
 which they have changed — it's all one — -but which 
 in their memory is always the same. You quite un- 
 derstand that there cannot be two. 
 
 I was a schoolboy then ; oh, just a little primary 
 school child, perhaps seven or eight years old, — 
 seven or eight I think. I always said " the house " 
 just as people say la patrie when they mean France. 
 Still, I knew very well that there were people who 
 called it by other names, names which sound grander 
 to a child. The baby's Italian nurse used to call it 
 il paJazzo, rounding her mouth for the second a, and 
 letting the last syllable die gently away in a linger- 
 ing whisper. The farmer who brought the rent, or 
 more probably- an instalment of it, or even a fowl 
 of some sort, to encourage the master to have pa- 
 tience, would say the chateau, with several circum- 
 flex accents. A lady who came from Paris to visit 
 us — you would know she was from Paris by the 
 lorgnette which she carried — had given it the dig- 
 nified title your mansion. And during the crisis of 
 which I shall have presently to teU, any one might 
 read on the humiliating bill that was posted on our 
 front gate the words Villa for sale. Villa, mansion, 
 chateau, palace, how colourless are aU these majestic 
 
THE KINGDOM 5 
 
 words, notwithstanding their fine sound! What was 
 the use of tangling up the truth in words? "The 
 house " is quite enough. " The house " tells the 
 whole story. __j 
 
 It is still there: it has an ancient habit of being 
 there. You would have no trouble in finding it — 
 the whole country knows the Rambert house, be- 
 cause our family has always lived in it. It has been 
 carefully repaired — too carefully, indeed — from 
 garret to cellar, furbished and decorated, repainted 
 and polished outside and in. Of course it will not 
 do to let houses go on forever wearing themselves 
 out, and a decaying homestead has poetic charm only 
 to passing travellers. Everyday life has its indis- 
 pensabihties. But nobody cares that one's house 
 should be new any more than that one's parents 
 should be young. If they are young they are less 
 entirely ours. They feel a right to an existence of 
 their own, whereas later, our life is their life, and 
 that is all that we ask of them, for we are not ex- 
 acting. 
 
 Before the house was restored I was showing it to 
 a lady, a lady from Paris like her of the lorgnette. 
 It is probable, quite likely, certain, indeed, that I 
 had previously sung its praises in no modest tones. 
 My description doubtless lacked neither the farmer's 
 circumflex accents nor the lingering susuration of 
 the Italian nurse. She may have expected to see 
 another Versailles, or at the very least another Chan- 
 tilly. So when, all alive with interest, duly in- 
 
6 THE HOUSE 
 
 structed, and her anticipation keyed up to pitch, she 
 was introduced to the incomparable edifice, she had 
 the effrontery to exclaim in a tone of surprise, " Is 
 this it? " 
 
 I felt her disappointment. With the utmost 
 courtesy I escorted her to her carriage — even when 
 boiling over with rage one is polite to a woman — 
 but I have never seen her since that day: I should 
 not be able to endure the sight of her. Perfect un- 
 derstanding with a stranger concerning the places 
 and things of one's childhood is simply impossible. 
 It is a case of different dimensions. They are to 
 be pitied, for their eyes are incapable of seeing. 
 They do not see the house, they see only a house. 
 How then are they to understand? 
 
 You come upon an iron gateway between two 
 square granite columns ; — the gate freshly painted 
 and in three sections, those on either side bolted 
 to the ground, permitting the use of only that in 
 the centre. The three are opened only on grand oc- 
 casions, for carriages and limousines. In old times 
 they were opened for hay waggons. In old times, 
 for that matter, you had only to push a little and 
 you could go in by any gate you pleased, the bolts 
 being out of commission. AU sorts of unbidden folk 
 used to come into the court, and to me their intru- 
 sions were highly disagreeable. Children are 
 strongly conservative in their sense of proprietorship. 
 
 " What difference does it make? " grandfather 
 would say. 
 
THE KINGDOM 7 
 
 Grandfather detested enclosures of any sort. 
 
 The stone columns used to be covered with moss, 
 but now they are draped with climbing plants. The 
 trees have been trimmed of the too-exuberant 
 branches that used to seem to bend in blessing 
 above the roof, or to tap upon the window panes. 
 One never realises the vigour of a tree; grant it a 
 few square yards and it soon overshadows them, and 
 gradually draws nearer and nearer, like a friend who 
 has the right of entrance. Now that our trees have 
 been trimmed — for the time being — the sunlight 
 caresses the walls of the old house, and this is better, 
 in the matter of hygiene. Humidity is unwhole- 
 some, especially in autumn. But here is a puzzle; 
 in my time, I mean in the time when I was young, 
 there was a sun-dial carved in high relief upon the 
 wall. Above it was a tarnished and half-eifaced in- 
 scription, the secret of which I refused to penetrate: 
 ME LUX, vos UMBEA. Father had translated it for me 
 and I made haste to forget it that I might still feel 
 the thrill of the mysterious syllables. Above it was 
 the iron finger whose slender shadow marked the hour 
 all day long, and encircling it were the names of 
 unknown cities, London, Boston, Pekin, and the rest, 
 intended to show the differences in time the whole 
 world round, as if the whole world were merely a 
 dependance of the house, which dictated the laws of 
 time to them all. But a linden tree, in an inad- 
 vertent moment, had rendered useless all this labour 
 of light. The linden had indeed been pruned, but 
 
8 THE HOUSE 
 
 by an unlucky mischance, when the front of the 
 house was restored the entire dial had been covered 
 with a coat of whitewash. Oh, ill-starred restora- 
 tion! But am not I responsible, for was it not I 
 who ordered it? Grown people are capable of just 
 such profanities. They do it without meaning any 
 harm. No doubt I had said, carelessly, " That poor 
 dial is of no use." (The trees had not been trimmed 
 then.) It is a mistake to let fall a thought; some 
 one is sure to pick it up. A mason who had chanced 
 to hear me actually thought to give me pleasure with 
 his whitewash brush, and when I tried to restrain his 
 zeal it was too late. 
 
 As a matter of fact, all these changes which I force 
 myself to set down hardly affect me. Don't think 
 me stoical to that degree. I simply do not see the 
 house as it is. It might be besmeared from cornice 
 to foundation and I should not notice it. I always 
 see it as it was in my time — the time, of course you 
 understand, when I was little. I have it thus before 
 my eyes for all the rest of my life. 
 
 The nice old cracks that used to look, not like wrin- 
 kles but like smiles, have all been closed up. A wing 
 has been added for the convenience of the domestic 
 economy; and as the tiles were falling off the roof 
 they have been replaced by slates. I have no quar- 
 rel with slates. There are some of an almost lilac 
 grey, like the throat of a turtle-dove, that are 
 very prisms for reflecting the light. But slate 
 roofs are flat and monotonous, uniform and without 
 
THE KINGDOM 9 
 
 character, while tiles, rounded, irregular, humped, 
 seem actually to stir, to move, to stretch themselves 
 Uke the good old turtles in the garden, that sigh for 
 fair weather, and hump their backs in protest 
 against wind and rain. The colour of tiles shades 
 from red to black, passing gradually or abruptly 
 through all the diminishing tones between. And 
 those who have eyes to see can guess at the age of 
 the house entirely from the degree of their incrusta- 
 tion. 
 
 However, its age is accurately set down on the 
 blackened tablet in the great chimney which is the 
 glory of the kitchen. As soon as I rightly knew 
 my letters and figures, father had set me to read the 
 date, and I quite understood that he took pride in 
 it, whereas grandfather sneered at the Uttle cere- 
 mony, murmuring in the background, below his voice 
 by way of not attracting too much attention, but 
 quite distinctly enough for me to hear, "Do leave 
 the child in peace ! " 
 
 Was it 1610 or 1670.'' No one could be quite 
 certain, short of calling together all our local acad- 
 emies. The stroke at the left of the upright was too 
 horizontal for a 1 and not sufficiently so for a 7. 
 
 " It's not of the slightest importance," said grand- 
 father, to whom I referred the matter. 
 
 However, I no longer doubted that it was 1610, 
 when my history book informed me that this was the 
 year of the assassination of Henry IV. My imag- 
 ination demanded the association of a historic event 
 
10 THE HOUSE 
 
 with the building of our house. " The King left the 
 Louvre in a coach. He occupied the back seat, the 
 panels of which were open. The stopping of two 
 carts at the entrance of the rue de la Ferronnerie, 
 which 7ms extremely narrow, forced the royal equi- 
 page to halt. At that very moment a man of thirty- 
 two, of a sinister counterumce, tall and very corpus 
 lent, red bearded and blach haired, Francois Ra- 
 vaiUac, stepped with one foot upon the curb, the 
 other upon the spoke of the wheel, and stabbed the 
 King with two blows of a dagger, the second of which 
 severed the pulmonary vein. Henri cried, ' I am 
 wounded,' and almost instantly expired." I can re- 
 call word for word the account in the history-book 
 which I have not been able to find. No doubt the 
 terrible picture of the murder which it gave aids my 
 memory. And I was able to appreciate the impor- 
 tance of the dates by the significant detail that the 
 rascal's face infallibly proved that he was thirty-two 
 years old — thirty-two, and not thirty-one or thirty- 
 three. The rapidity of the drama in no wise pre- 
 vented the accurate recognition of this detail. And 
 when the historian added that the King was hastily 
 carried back to the Louvre, bleeding from Ra- 
 vaillac's poniard, I pictured to myself the procession 
 as at the door of the house. The house was our 
 Louvre. 
 
 The kitchen was probably, was surely, the finest, 
 largest, most comfortable, most honourable room in 
 the house ; banquets and balls might have been given 
 
THE KINGDOM 11 
 
 in it. Such had been the custom in old times, and 
 I should be the last to find fault with it. Though 
 I have since dared to transform that kitchen into a 
 hall paved with black and white marble, the walls 
 handsomely done in panels of hard wood, and well 
 lighted by a glass bay which occupies the entire side 
 toward the sunset, I stiU find myself looking about 
 me for stew-pans and frying-pans, and above all 
 for the spit that used to turn there. I stOl smell 
 the odours of ragouts and roasts, and whenever I 
 see my guests entering the room I have an impulse 
 to cry out upon the stupidity of the servants, ex- 
 claiming, " What possesses you to bring them in 
 here!" 
 
 Here Mariette the cook held sway. Her power 
 was absolute. Before her despotism people and fur- 
 niture ahke trembled. Happily, the wide spaces af- 
 forded room to escape her vigilant eye. There were 
 shadowed corners where one could manage to keep 
 out of sight, especially under the vast chimney man- 
 tel. The chimney had been put upon the retired 
 list like an aged servant. I used not to know why; 
 but I divine that it was from reasons of economy, for 
 it was capable of consuming whole forests. Under 
 its shelter one could make oneself quite comfortable 
 on the old stone fire-dogs, that were cemented into 
 their place. Bending back the head, one could see 
 daylight at the top. In autumn, when night comes 
 early, I used to look up to watch for a star. One 
 night even, reluctantly crossing the kitchen, then 
 
12 THE HOUSE 
 
 dark and deserted, I was terrified by a square of 
 light lying white upon the hearthstone like an un- 
 folded sheet. Was it the cast-ofF garment of a ghost ? 
 Perhaps they throw them ofF that way, at the mo- 
 ment of vanishing, leaving them as an incontro- 
 vertible witness to their visit. The moon was play- 
 ing upon the roof. 
 
 The more coming and going there was, the better 
 Mariette was pleased. Her tongue itched in soli- 
 tude. As a general thing the postman, the farmer, 
 the men who worked in the garden made their ap- 
 pearance there at regular intervals. Each and all 
 were served with a glass of red wine, which they drank 
 with unfailing observance of the rites. They lifted 
 the elbow and said, " To your health," after which 
 it was permitted to drain the glass; and if a second 
 were desired, even without the slightest interval, the 
 same formula must be observed. Never a one of 
 them balked at its repetition. I have sometimes 
 drunk in their company, no doubt from the same 
 glass. 
 
 Folk would come also from the mountain villages 
 to get father when a case was serious. Father, 
 who was a doctor, never demurred at going with 
 them. I can still hear his words of greeting, at once 
 compassionate and resolute, when he crossed Mari- 
 ette's empire and found it occcupied. 
 
 "What is wrong now, friend? " 
 
 Mariette would scan all newcomers with a wary 
 yet perspicacious eye, which unmasked frauds and 
 
THE KINGDOM 13 
 
 congealed the blood in the veins of those unlucky 
 wights whose arrival coincided with the sacred hour 
 of a meal. I have been present at many an out- 
 pouring of peasant woes. They came out little by 
 little, with a certain reticence of grief, as if illness 
 were a disgraceful thing. I did not understand this 
 reserve; indeed, it seemed to me simply slowness of 
 speech. 
 
 The high'tide of the year, to the cook, was Octo- 
 ber, the vintage season. What comings and goings 
 through the kitchen of vintagers at work in the wine- 
 press! How important that their strength should 
 be kept up by large reinforcements of boiled beef 
 and potatoes, and how warm and savoury the steam 
 that filled the kitchen from the great kettles! We 
 children used to make the most of the confusion to 
 settle ourselves upon the fire-dogs, our pockets full of 
 nuts which the wind had scattered over the farm 
 lane, or which we had ourselves surreptitiously 
 knocked oiF with switches. A bit of flint served to 
 crack them upon the hearth-stone. If they were 
 still in their green husk a juice would squirt out, 
 staining our hands and clothes with a pigment of 
 which not the best soap could obliterate the tell-tale 
 tokens. But the kernels, white as a fowl well dressed 
 for a doll's dinner, would crunch most deliciously 
 between our teeth. Or we would stealthily pop our 
 chestnuts on a comer of the stove, revelling in the 
 warmth after coming in, chilled through, from kick- 
 ing dead leaves before us in the face of the autumn 
 
14, THE HOUSE 
 
 winds ; for in my country the winds are harsh and 
 rude. 
 
 Many a time, too, have I curiously watched Mari- 
 ette's movements as she killed a fowl. Her dexterity 
 and her indifFerence were alike extreme. Like the 
 most experienced headsman she would decapitate 
 ducks that continued to run around, headless, to my 
 great admiration. One day she asked me to hold a re- 
 luctant victim during the operation. I indignantly 
 refused my co-operation, whereupon she exclaimed, 
 with the contempt which she often affected: 
 
 " Ho ! how squeamish we are ! You are ready 
 enough to eat them!" 
 
 I am not going to conduct you through the whole 
 house. It wovdd take too long, for there are two 
 stories above the ground floor, the second being much 
 less ancient than the first, and above that a garret 
 and the tower. The tower, which you reach by a 
 winding stair, has four windows commanding the four 
 quarters of the horizon. This diversified view, too 
 extensive for my taste, never interested me much. I 
 suppose that children care little for things that ex- 
 tend indefinitely, things that do nothing, clouds, 
 vague landscapes. On stormy days the wind made an 
 infernal hubbub around the tower; one might have 
 fancied it a living creature, ill-mannered and strong, 
 heaping insults upon the walls before throwing them 
 down. The staircase was none too light; at night- 
 fall it was easy to get frightened there, and as the 
 steps were very narrow on the side of the support- 
 
THE KINGDOM 15 
 
 ing pillar, you were likely to get a fine carabosse if 
 you hurried. Carabosse was a word which Aunt 
 Deen had invented for severe falls occasioned by hur- 
 rying; falls from which one picked oneself up lame, 
 bruised and swollen; the word no doubt came from 
 the wicked fairy Carabasse. 
 
 As for the garret, not one of us would have gone 
 there without company. A single dormer window 
 grudgingly admitted an insufficient light, just enough 
 to give to the heaps of wood, faggots and cast-ofF 
 things of aU sorts that gradually accumulated there 
 to wear out a useless existence, the appearance of 
 instruments of torture or fearsome personages. 
 Moreover, it was the battleground of hosts of 
 rats. From the rooms below one might have sup- 
 posed they were amusing themselves with regularly 
 organised obstacle races. Once in a while the cat 
 was carried up there — a superb, lazy Angora, fond 
 of good eating and little disposed to warfare. He 
 was no doubt afraid of spoiling his fine coat, and 
 would meow in terror until Aunt Deen, whose special 
 care he was, released him from military duty, at no 
 long delay. 
 
 The drawing room, the shades of which were gen- 
 erally drawn and which was only opened on cere- 
 monial occasions or on reception days, was forbid- 
 den ground to us; and likewise my father's study, 
 crowded with books, apparatus and vials. We ven- 
 tured into it only for hasty explorations, but I used 
 to see all sorts of forlorn creatures going in there, 
 
16 THE HOUSE 
 
 who usually came out looking much happier. By 
 way of compensation, the dining room was given 
 over to us. It was the scene of many a tumult, and 
 the chairs had more than once to be re-seated and 
 their backs strengthened. Into mother's room, 
 which was very large, we used to rush at all times. 
 It was so centrally situated that every sound in the 
 house reached it, and from it our mother quietly, and 
 without attracting attention, watched over her whole 
 domain ; nothing went on in it that she did not know 
 at once. In our eagerness for conquest we even took 
 possession of the music room, a small octagon par- 
 lour, of marvellous acoustic properties, which 
 opened upon a balcony looking southward. The 
 family usually spent the summer evenings in this 
 room, on account of the balcony. 
 i/1 have still to tell of the garden. But if I de- 
 scribe it as it seems to me, you will think, like the 
 lady from Paris, that it is one of those vast domains 
 that surround historic chateaux. I have never yet 
 been able to understand, as I walk in it now, how it 
 could once have seemed so large to me; but as soon 
 as I am no longer there it regains its true importance 
 in my memory. Perhaps it is because in those days 
 it was so ill kept that one easily gained the impres- 
 sion of being lost in it. With the exception of the 
 kitchen-garden, the beds of which were straight and 
 orderly, every part of it was at haphazard. In the 
 orchard, where pears and peaches that our insinu- 
 ating fingers were forever testing never succeeded 
 
THE KINGDOM 17 
 
 in ripening before they were picked, the grass grew 
 thick and tall, as tall as me, upon my word ! Always, 
 in the orchard, I used to think of the virgin for- 
 ests that the Children of Captain Grant travelled 
 through. A rose garden, the chef d'cewvre of a 
 flower-loving ancestor, bloomed in a comer whenever 
 it felt so disposed, and with no aid either from prun- 
 ing shears or watering pot. Mother used to work 
 in it in her moments of rare leisure, but it really 
 needed an expert in the art. The alleys were over- 
 grown with weeds — one had to search to find a path. 
 On the other hand, other walks that had never been 
 laid out appeared in the very midst of the grass 
 plots. And just under mother's windows there was 
 a fountain; you didn't hear it in the daytime, you 
 were so used to it, but in the night, when all was 
 still, its monotonous wail filled all the silence and 
 made me sad, I did not know why. 
 
 I have forgotten to mention the vines that were 
 trained against the farm buildings, and which in- 
 terested us only when we could relieve them of their 
 grapes. And now at last I come to the loveliest 
 tangle imaginable of bushes, brambles, nettles, and 
 all sorts of wild plants, that was our own special 
 domain. There we were masters and sovereign lords. 
 There was nothing more before you reached the sur- 
 rounding wall except a chestnut grove, which was 
 simply an extension of our own empire. When I 
 say chestnut grove, I mean four or five chestnut 
 trees. But one alone could cast a wide shade. 
 
18 THE HOUSE 
 
 There was one whose roots had overthrown a section 
 of the wall. By this open breach, which I never ap- 
 proached without a sense of discomfort, I used to 
 imagine that robbers might come In. 
 
 To be sure, I was armed. Father had told us the 
 stories of the Iliad and the Odyssey, the story of 
 Roland and various other tales of adventure, from 
 the hearing of which I would sally forth all on fire, 
 Impetuous and heroic. By turns I would be the 
 furious Roland or the magnanimous Hector. With 
 my wooden sword I would give mortal combat to 
 Greeks or Saracens, impersonated by certain shrubs, 
 but of which the peaceable cabbages and unoflFending 
 beets sometimes bore the brunt as I cut right and 
 left among them. ^ 
 
 My arms were provided by one of the queer la- 
 bourers we used to employ In the garden or about 
 the vines. There were three of them, each working 
 by himself In his corner, each with his special quali- 
 fications but with undefined duties, though care was 
 taken to keep them apart. They detested one an- 
 other. Where had they been picked up? Their 
 selection was no doubt due to grandfather's invet- 
 erate indifference, for he let every one, including the 
 property, go his own way. Or perhaps it was due 
 to mother's tender heart, for she was easily capable 
 of having fished up such pitiful wrecks of humanity 
 as these. 
 
 The first and earliest in my memory, the one who 
 was my armourer into the bargain, went by the name 
 
THE KINGDOM 19 
 
 of Tern Bessette. Both appellations were nick- 
 names, I suppose, and their origin is not hard to dis- 
 cover. Tern, must have been derived from Anthel- 
 mus, who is a saint venerated in our province. As 
 for the nickname Bossette, I long supposed it to 
 be an indelicate allusion to the curve of his back, due 
 to long leaning over the spade. But I have found 
 an etymology that better suits his character, espe- 
 cially his laziness, and I humbly submit it to mes- 
 sieurs the philologers, who will be able, according to 
 their custom, to consecrate to it several folio vol- 
 lunes. In our country the word hosse has more than 
 one meaning; it especially designates the cask in 
 which the vintage is deposited for convenient re- 
 moval from the vineyard, and I can still see the be- 
 wilderment stamped upon the countenance of a friend 
 to whom I was doing the honours of my native town, 
 on reading a poster, a simple little poster, containing 
 the words For sale, an oval hosse. " Happy re- 
 gion," he commented, " where hunchbacks can carry 
 their gibbosities to market." He thought himself 
 very clever when he added, " But do they find pur- 
 chasers ? " I explained to him his mistake. Now 
 Tem was a notable drunkard. Our cellar knew that 
 better than any one. Bossette, little wine cask; he 
 also could contain a grape harvest; and even, to- 
 ward the close of his life, the diminutive might have 
 been suppressed. 
 
 He used to make swords for me out of the stakes 
 on which the vines were tied. In recompense I used 
 
20 THE HOUSE 
 
 to bring him extra bottles of wine, which I pro- 
 cured from Aunt Deen, who had special charge of 
 the cellar, urging upon her the splendour of my 
 armament. From time to time there arose a com- 
 plaint that the vine trellises were defective and the 
 untrained branches trailing on the ground, absorb- 
 ing dampness. But grandfather, good naturedly 
 indifferent, never blamed any one, and please 
 reckon up how many stakes were necessary to 
 my complete equipment. I needed them for my 
 panoplies, I needed them for my stables. The num- 
 ber of my horses bore witness to my magnificence. 
 With a stick between my legs I acquired an aston- 
 ishing velocity, and for each battle I must needs 
 change horses. 
 
 Tem Bossette would have been tall if he had stood 
 up straight, but as to his stoutness there was no 
 question, and his round head greatly resembled a 
 pumpkin. " Big head, little wit," Mimi Pachoux 
 used to say of him, pursing up his lips. Mimi Pa- 
 choux was gardener, orchard man, lamp man, smoke 
 doctor, locksmith, cabinet maker, mender of clocks 
 and china, floor-waxer, wood-sawyer, errand man and 
 I know not what more. Oh, yes, in the winter he 
 used to be bearer of the dead. Did any difficulty 
 arise, was any help needed .'' "Call Mimi!" grand- 
 father would say. And they would call Mimi — a 
 matter of several hours, for no one ever knew where 
 he was, so that when he at last arrived the work 
 
THE KINGDOM 21 
 
 would be done ; but every one gave him the credit of 
 it. 
 
 " That Mimi, he no sooner comes than everything 
 goes well ! " 
 
 Picture to yourself a little scrap of a man, thin, 
 clean, prompt, lively and invisible into the bargain. 
 Invisible, that is what I mean, unless you would 
 prefer to grant him the gift of ubiquity. Every 
 morning he would begin a half dozen days' works ; 
 here at six o'clock, and perhaps earlier — oh, that 
 Mimi! What zeal! — At five past six at another 
 job, and before the quarter hour at a third, loudly 
 announcing himself at the first, running to the sec- 
 ond, flying to the third, slipping in here, stealing out 
 secretly, running back furtively, replying here, ex- 
 plaining there, protesting elsewhere, appearing, dis- 
 appearing, reappearing, beginning in haste, going 
 on in a hurry, finishing nothing, and at evening get- 
 ting paid in three jplaces at once. Grandfather used 
 to say that several persons among his acquaintance 
 could see their double. Father would observe that 
 it was a well known malady, requiring nothing but 
 drink for its production. I tried it once, but I saw 
 everything shifting about. It was Tem Bossette 
 who used to drink, but our Mimi Pachoux could see 
 his triple. 
 
 As to the third member of our force, it was essen- 
 tial never to lose sight of him for a minute, because 
 of his fixed determination to hang himself. He had 
 
22 THE HOUSE 
 
 made several attempts that had ended in failure. 
 We used to watch him in relays. Mariette would 
 refuse him the slightest bit of cord, however pressing 
 his need of it, and he was carefully assigned to work 
 where the uncovered spaces were largest. In early 
 days he used to be called Dante, but his name was 
 really Beatrix. His nickname was given him by the 
 keeper of our departmental archives, a man of wit. 
 His face was long and woebegone, and he was so 
 possessed with the desire to hie him to the lower re- 
 gions that it was continually necessary to cut his 
 rope. By degrees he came to be called Le Pendu, 
 or the Hanged, and wa^ known by no other name. 
 Very few were willing to employ him because of the 
 police force requisite to ward off his catastrophes. 
 Mother was his providence. The heavy jobs were 
 intrusted to him, but he generally gave them over to 
 Aunt Deen, who was strong, active, and capable of 
 moving even the heavy casks, whUe he looked on with 
 admiration, open-mouthed and with swinging arms. 
 His mouth contained only two teeth, which by mar- 
 vellous good luck were precisely one above the other, 
 so that when one met the other you might suppose 
 that it was one tooth uniting the two jaws. 
 
 You can understand to what a degree our gar- 
 den was neglected. Should I have loved it more, 
 blooming with flowers and fruits, than in this lamen- 
 table condition, in which it seemed to me immense 
 and measureless and mysterious? 
 , ' Dear old garden, with your crazy weeds, always 
 
THE KINGDOM 23 
 
 a little too damp and much too shady because of 
 branches left to their own will, where I have played 
 so much and invented so many games, where I have 
 known the glory of combat, the wonders of explora- 
 tion, the pride of conquest, the intoxication of free- 
 dom; not to mention the friendship of trees and the 
 pleasantness of fruit gathered in secret! Who 
 would recognise you to-day? Raked, reduced to 
 order, pruned, watered, your alleys sanded, your 
 turf cut close around the flower urns, never flatter 
 yourself that you can dazzle me with your beauty ! 
 
 When I walk in my garden I still go as I please, 
 trampling down the borders, treading underfoot the 
 grass plots, endangering the flowers, until the new 
 gardener — whtr"by4Hmself -alone only too ably re- 
 places Tem Bossette, Mimi Pachoux, and the 
 Hanged — cries out in a voice of consternation: 
 
 " Do take care, sir ! " 
 
 I must excuse him. He does not know that I 
 am walking in my garden of long ago. ) 
 
 To complete this portrait of the house, there still 
 is lacking — oh, almost nothing! Almost nothing 
 yet almost everything, two things indeed, a shadow 
 and a footstep. 
 
 The footstep was my father's; no one ever mis- 
 took it. Rapid, regular, resonant, it was his and 
 no other's. Once it was heard on the threshold a 
 magic change passed over everything. (Tem Bos- 
 sette plied his spade with unsuspected vigour, Mimi 
 
24 THE HOUSE 
 
 Pachoux, till then invisible, popped up like an imp 
 out of a bottle. The Hanged tackled the heaviest 
 casks, Mariette stirred her fire, all of us children 
 came to order, and grandfather — I don't know why 
 — went out."^ Was there a difficulty to solve, a trou- 
 ble to bear," a danger to fear? Let some one say, 
 " Here he is," and it was all over, every anxiety dis- 
 sipated, every one taking a long breath as after a 
 victory. Aunt Deen especially had a way of say- 
 ing, " Here he is," which would have put to flight 
 the most daring aggressor. It was as much as to 
 say, " Just wait ! You will see what will happen. 
 It won't take long: Another minute and justice 
 will be done ! " Once aware of his presence, we felt 
 in ourselves an Invincible strength, a sense of secur- 
 ity, of protection, of an armed peace, and also a 
 sense of being under command. Each had his own 
 part. But grandfather loved neither to command 
 nor to be commanded. 
 
 And the shadow — it was my mother's, there be- 
 hind the half closed window blind, whenever all the 
 family was not gathered around her. She is wait- 
 ing for father, or for our return from school. Some 
 one is absent, and she is anxious. Or the weather 
 is threatening — she is looking at the sky^ wendeEr 
 ing whether to light the blessed- candJe. 
 
 A different sort of peace emanates from her, a 
 peace — how shall I describe it? — that reaches be- 
 yond the things of life, that enters Into one and 
 calms the nerves and heart, the peace of love and 
 
THE KINGDOM 25 
 
 prayer. That shadow, which I used to look for 
 every time I came in, that I look for now, though 
 well enough I know that it is not there, that it is 
 elsewhere — that shadow was the sovd of the house, 
 showing through it as thought shows in a face. 
 
 Thus were we guarded. 
 
 Beyond the house was the town, on a lower level, 
 as was fitting, and stiU beyond a great lake and the 
 mountains, and more distant still, the rest of the 
 world. But all these were simply dependencies of 
 The House. 
 
II 
 
 THE DYNASTY 
 
 Those days were in the reign of my grandfather. 
 
 A long line of ancestors must have reigned 
 before him, to judge by the portraits in the draw- 
 ing room. Most of these portraits were now much 
 blackened, so that unless there was a flood of light 
 it was pretty difficult to guess what the frames held. 
 One of the most defaced of them was the one that most 
 commanded my admiration. Only the face and one 
 hand were visible — they might have been a woman's 
 face and hand ; but I had been told of the important 
 part their owner had borne in the wars, and I won- 
 dered how so young and handsome a man could have 
 fought so much. The lady with the rose attracted 
 me, too. No matter on what side of her I stood, 
 from every side she smiled upon me and showed me 
 her flower. I pass over certain stem faces trussed 
 up in high collars, swathed in huge neckcloths, as if 
 afflicted with colds, jind come to two portraits which 
 occupied the place of honour on the right and left 
 of the chimney. One wore a blue coat laced with 
 silver, a scarlet waistcoat, white knee breeches 
 and the three-cornered hat of the French Guard. 
 The other wore the bear-skin cap and the blue great 
 
 26 
 
THE DYNASTY 27 
 
 coat with gilt buttons and red braid on sleeves and 
 collar of a grenadier of the Old Guard. The soldier 
 of the King and the soldier of the Emperor were 
 companion pictures. To judge by their decorations, 
 both had well served Prance. Father had proudly 
 told me of their exploits, and explained their grade. 
 I could not look at them without a sort of rever- 
 ential fear. They were not handsome, having more 
 bone than flesh, and features all out of drawing, but 
 I should not have dared to call them ugly. Their 
 eyes, severely fixed upon me, troubled me. They 
 reproached me for not having achieved wonderful 
 victories like that of the grenadier at Moscow, or 
 for at least not having undergone heroic defeat like 
 the French Guard at Malplaquet. For a long time 
 these two were the only names of battles that I knew. 
 And I used to blush for Tem Bessette's wooden sa- 
 bres and the laths that I bestrode. I understood that 
 my feats of horsemanship in the garden were not 
 serious, were not real. Those two redoubtable por- 
 traits sometimes puffed me up with pride and again 
 overwhelmed me with their importance. One day 
 when I was gazing upon them with some uneasiness 
 grandfather came by, and with his little dry smile 
 and his most impertinent pursing of the lips, let fall 
 the words, 
 
 " Pooh ! They are only bad paintings." 
 It is dangerous to teach too much esthetics to a 
 child. I was glad that they were bad paintings. 
 In a moment the soldier of the King with his three- 
 
28 THE HOUSE 
 
 cornered hat and the soldier of the Emperor with 
 his bearskin cap lost all their fascination. Thence- 
 forth their story was nothing to me. I was set free 
 from the servitude of a compelled admiration. I at 
 once felt my superiority over a badly painted past, 
 and could judge the gallery of ancestors with inso- 
 lence. 
 
 One day the subject of exiling them to the garret 
 was agitated. Grandfather desired to replace them 
 with engravings. 
 
 " They are of the eighteenth century," he observed, 
 by way of settling the question, making the state- 
 ment simply and courteously, as the most natural 
 thing in the world. But Aunt Deen exclaimed in- 
 dignantly and father exerted that calm authority 
 that broke down all resistance. Grandfather did 
 not insist ; he never insisted. But I understood him, 
 since they were bad paintings. 
 
 Grandfather's government was negligent and fitful. 
 As well say he had no government. When I read in 
 my history book, or in that of my elder brothers, 
 the chapter consecrated to the sluggard kings I 
 immediately thought of grandfather. He made no 
 point at all of his prerogatives. And yet his name 
 was Augustus. I knew it, because great-aunt Ber- 
 nardine, she whom we called Aunt Deen, and who was 
 his sister, called him Augustus, though as seldom as 
 possible, for his name irritated him. 
 
 " Yes," he said one day, " they named me Augus- 
 tus — why the mischief I don't know. That's an- 
 
THE DYNASTY 29 
 
 other trick that ancestors have. They fasten a ri- 
 diculous lahel upon you for all your days." 
 
 Though of medium height, grandfather gave the 
 impression of being tall, because of his fine head, 
 which he was not in the least proud of and 
 carried with indifference. His well-cut nose was 
 shghtly aquiline. His white hair, which he would 
 never have had cut but for Aunt Deen's abrupt in- 
 terventions, curled a little, and he was continually 
 thrusting his fingers through his long beard, — which 
 waved like that of the Emperor Charlemagne in the 
 pictures, — lest some grains of tobacco should be 
 caught in it, for he smoked and took snuff. On a 
 nearer view the impression as of a prophet which he 
 first gave gradually faded away and vanished. He 
 looked down too often, or lifted upon you vague 
 eyes that refused to see you. You felt that you did 
 not exist, so far as he was concerned, and nothing 
 is more irritating than that. He cared for nothing 
 and for no one. His clothes hung upon his body 
 by the grace of God and Aunt Deen. He never 
 knew whether they were well or ill fitting, and as to 
 changing them he would gladly have worn them till 
 they left him first. The more worn they were the 
 more was he at ease in them. I fancy that he had 
 never known the use of suspenders, and cravats 
 seemed to him a wretched concession to fashion. 
 He detested whatever restricted his movements and 
 would have been content to wear all day long the 
 green dressing gown and the black velvet Greek cap 
 
30 THE HOUSE 
 
 in which he felt at ease, and which he did sometimes 
 wear to the midday breakfast. When my brothers 
 and I saw him appear in this accoutrement we would 
 be bursting with laughter which a glance from our 
 father forced us to smother; but the same glance 
 seemed to include a reproof of the famous dressing 
 gown. 
 
 It was with great difficulty that grandfather could 
 be induced to be regular at meals. 
 
 " Oh," he would say good-naturedly, " one eats 
 when he is hungry. Rules for meal times are ab- 
 surd." 
 
 " StiU," father would urge, evidently not pleased, 
 but endeavouring to speak gently — yet even in our 
 father's gentleness we felt an impression of author- 
 ity — " still there must be order in a household." 
 
 " Order, order, oho ! " 
 
 You should have heard his " ohos ! " uttered softly, 
 warily, in a sort of aside, yet striking at all estab- 
 lished order, and accompanied by a little dry laugh. 
 That little laugh at once placed grandfather above 
 his interlocutors. Nothing have I ever met in all 
 the forms of human expression more disquieting, 
 more mocking, more ironical, than that little laugh. 
 It at once gave you the idea that you were a beast. 
 It produced upon me the effect of the sharp clip of 
 the shears when the rose bushes are pruned ; ric, rac, 
 the flowers fall ; ric, rac, there are none left. By his 
 little laugh, involuntarily, no doubt, grandfather of- 
 fered an insult to all the world. 
 
THE DYNASTY 31 
 
 His presiding at table was honorary and not 
 effective. Not only did he not direct the conver- 
 sation, he followed it but fitfully, when it interested 
 him. For that matter, he assumed no responsibility 
 about anything. When he walked in the garden, 
 visited the vines, Tem, Mimi and The Hanged utterly 
 failed to extract from him any directions. He woUld 
 simply make a vague gesture which signified " Let 
 me alone." The trio did not make a point of re- 
 ceiving instructions, for his silence suited them, but 
 matters went none the better in consequence. 
 
 Besides his laugh, he had another claim to su- 
 periority, his violin. Was he not in the drawing 
 room among the portraits, young and curly-haired, 
 with a guitar in his hands.'* 
 
 " Never in my life have I twanged that odious in- 
 strument," he one day protested. " But a wander- 
 ing Italian felt impelled to make a daub of me." 
 
 " You were so beautiful," asserted Aunt Deen. 
 " The artist was all enthusiasm over you." 
 
 "Oh, the artist!" 
 
 He would spend long hours in his room playing 
 his instrument, but he devoted still more time to 
 examining it lovingly, handling it, tightening or loos- 
 ening the strings, touching the bow with resin, as 
 mowers in the fields so often spend more time whet- 
 ting their scythes than in mowing, indefinitely mak- 
 ing music upon them with a stone. 
 
 When grandfather played he turned every one out 
 of his room. He played for himself alone, and in 
 
32 THE HOUSE 
 
 general the same airs, for I often listened at the 
 door ; and in after years I used to recognise passages 
 that he played from the Freischiitz and Euryanthe, 
 the Magic Flute and the Marriage of Figaro. 
 Mozart's pure rhythms were to me like that joy in 
 breathing that one takes in childhood without notic- 
 ing it, as limpid water takes on the contours of a 
 vase; but Weber gave me a vague desire for things 
 which I could not describe. I seemed to be In the 
 heart of a forest, with paths stretching away inter- 
 minably into the lost distances. 
 
 The pieces that he played were not all of equal 
 merit, though I could not know that. Everything 
 is good to a child in the springtime of sentiment. To 
 this day I can not hear the overture to Poet and 
 Peasant without emotion. One evening at Lucerne, 
 by the lake side, the most ordinary of orchestras in 
 the most ordinary of hotels began that overture. 
 Around me men in dinner jackets and ladies in even- 
 ing gowns went on chatting and laughing as if they 
 heard nothing, as if they were deaf, yet I felt utterly 
 alone, my heart melting and I thought I should 
 weep. The orchestra was not playing for the pub- 
 lic, it was playing for me alone, no longer the medi- 
 ocre art of the Austrian composer, but the memory 
 of my entrance as a child into the mysterious realm 
 of sound and dreams, in the forest whose paths 
 stretch away into the Infinite. 
 
 At the same period the singing of one of my school 
 comrades quite overcame me. It was at a first com- 
 
THE DYNASTY S3 
 
 munion seirvice. I had not yet been admitted to the 
 Holy Table and was at leisure to listen. He sang 
 that melody of Gounod, Keavem Has Visited the 
 Earth, and quite truly heaven was visiting me, taking 
 me by storm, carrying me away. My whole enrap- 
 tured being made a part of that song. The voice 
 rose high, higher, it seemed that it must break, that 
 it was not strong enough to bear up those mighty 
 notes that filled all the chapel. It seemed like those 
 tall fountains, so slender that the wind carries them 
 away, so that they never fall to earth. That voice 
 was indeed broken as the boy became a youth; 
 death carried away my comrade in his sixteenth 
 year. 
 
 Then there was a music box that father had 
 brought me from Milan whither he had been sum- 
 moned for a consultation. When the screw was 
 turned it gave forth soft, thin, somewhat quavering 
 notes, and a little dancer would pirouette upon the 
 cover. Gravely and in cadence with the music she 
 would point her toes and take her position as if she 
 were accomplishing a sacred rite, a sweet yet sad 
 httle spectacle. How many times have I been dis- 
 enchanted in later years when I discovered that my 
 partners in the ball were frivolous, when I had ex- 
 pected to find in them tender sweetness, that sacred 
 sadness of the little dancer of my music box. 
 
 The sluggard kings in my history book were ac- 
 companied by mayors of the palace, who, at first 
 
34 THE HOUSE 
 
 mere officers charged with the interior government, 
 became prime ministers and even masters of their 
 masters. In school we heard eulogiums upon Pepin 
 d'Heristal and Pepin the Short, who became the 
 father of Charlemagne. Grandfather was not a very 
 serious king and I quite expected father to take over 
 the power. But why did he treat grandfather with 
 so much respect, instead of dispossessing him.? His- 
 tory had taught me to expect a diflPerent attitude. 
 To the farmers, labourers and servant folk grand- 
 father was just Monsieur, or Monsieur Ranibert, and 
 father was Monsieur Michel. It would never have 
 entered any one's head to call upon monsieur, to con- 
 sult monsieur, to ask monsieur for an order. Mon- 
 sieur would have been the first to protest. "What 
 do you want of me? Leave me in peace. I have no 
 time (I could never understand why he had no time). 
 Go to Monsieur Michel." Thus he himself set the 
 example. I had concluded like every one else that 
 he was good for nothing. Yet once in a while, no 
 one knew why, he would protest against being left 
 out in matters of the palace — I mean to say, of the 
 house. But whenever a serious matter was in ques- 
 tion, an important order to be given, one would hear 
 on all sides the cry, " Where is Monsieur Michel.'' 
 Call Monsieur Michel ! " 
 
 I have spoken of my father's step. There was 
 also his voice, sonorous, thrilling, cheery. He never 
 raised it, he knew that there was no need. It opened 
 doors, penetrated to the most distant rooms, and at 
 
THE DYNASTY 35 
 
 the same time poured Into the heart new strength, 
 like a good glass of red wine — as folk declare who 
 understand such things. When he came late to din- 
 ner because of the crowd of patients who hung upon 
 him, there was no need to ring the bell, — from his 
 ante-room he would proclaim, as it were an edict, 
 "Dinner!" 
 
 And the dispersed family would make haste to as- 
 semble, 
 
 "What a voice!" grandfather would protest, 
 starting as if in amazement. 
 
 I can never read expressions like the following, 
 which occur more or less in all manuals of history, 
 save in those of the present day in which battles are 
 juggled with as if they gained themselves — At the 
 voice of their cTuef the soldiers rwshed to the assault. 
 — At the voice of their general the troops rallied — 
 without hearing my father's voice echoing through 
 all the house. Tem Bossette, -who was fearfully 
 afraid of it, would hear it from the uttermost vines. 
 The step announced a presence, but the voice gave 
 orders. And yet the labourers were not under my 
 father; all the same every one of them felt that he 
 was the head. Everything about him conspired to 
 give this impression; his height, his clear cut fea- 
 tures, crossed by a short stiff moustache, his pierc- 
 ing eyes, the gaze of which one did not like to en- 
 counter. A sort of fascination emanated from his 
 person. Aunt Deen, who shared the general senti- 
 ment, would say my nephew, as if bursting with pride. 
 
86 THE HOUSE 
 
 The grenadier in the drawing-room could not have 
 pursed up his lips otherwise to speak of the Em- 
 peror. I had not escaped this fascination, and even 
 in my days of revolt I never ceased to pay him secret 
 worship. But the spirit of liberty impels us to act 
 contrary to our surest instincts, under pretext of 
 asserting our liberty. 
 
 Do not think he was severe with us. He became 
 terrible only when we were taking the wrong direc- 
 tion. Only, I have never known In any one else such 
 an aptitude for command. In spite of his absorbing 
 profession he found time to look after our studies 
 and plays, and even to add to both by the epic sto- 
 ries which with consiunmate art he used to tell us. 
 My memory retains them to this day, and wiU retain 
 them always. It was easy to see that he honoured 
 the family portraits. He made the past of our an- 
 cestors live again for us, but I could never forget that 
 they were bad paintings. 
 
 When we felt ourselves observed by father we un- 
 derstood that in his glance, which encompassed our 
 weakness with his strength, there was something be- 
 sides tenderness and perhaps pride, but what was it? 
 I know now that he was seeking in each one of us 
 forecasts of our future. The antiquity of our race 
 was not enough to satisfy his love of permanence; 
 he would fain foUow it Into the obscure travail of 
 the future and consolidate its unity. Even our hap- 
 piness was less dear to him than the obedience of 
 our will to the common task. The father's glance 
 
THE DYNASTY 87 
 
 enfolds within it the child's image; the child knows 
 that well, and it is all he needs to know. 
 
 While we were very little he taught us reverence 
 for what he called our vocation. From our earliest 
 years we felt its importance. My sister Melanie, 
 who was oldest of all, my brothers Bernard and 
 Stephen had early decided upon theirs — for Ber- 
 nard the army, for the other two the mission field. 
 Father never thought of opposing them, although 
 perhaps these choices forced him to resign hopes that 
 he had cherished. The laughing Louise would marry, 
 there was no hurry about that. As for Nicola and 
 James, they were still too little for much thought 
 about their future. 
 
 " And you ? " my father had asked me. 
 
 As I had no answer ready, he gave utterance to 
 his desire. 
 
 "You wiU remain with us." 
 
 Thus it was agreed that I was to remain, to take 
 charge of the household. The part assigned to me 
 hardly allured me ; it seemed tame and commonplace, 
 whereas the destinies of the others were adorned with 
 all the glamour of leaving home. I neither confirmed 
 nor opposed the plan proposed for my future, but 
 within myself I felt a wild desire to be set free from 
 these arrangements, from this power that dominated 
 me. Secret longings to rebel even against those I 
 loved began to germinate within me. Later they 
 were destined to grow, under an influence at that 
 time unforeseen. 
 
38 THE HOUSE 
 
 I ought now to tell about The Queen. Is it not 
 her turn? Yet in truth I can not do it and you 
 must not ask me to. That shadow which I always 
 seek as I return to the house, and which our absence 
 was always enough to disquiet — I can only invoke 
 her presence there. It is indeed she, but remote and 
 hidden. When I try to draw near her I can find 
 no words. 
 
 Have you observed, on fine summer days, the blue 
 haze that floats over the hillsides and helps to 
 bring out the delicate contours of the earth? If I 
 could throw a transparent veil like that over my 
 mother's face, it seems to me that I should have 
 more courage to tell of her sweetness, to describe the 
 pureness of those eyes which could not beheve in 
 evil. What unknown strength was concealed be- 
 neath that sweetness? Grandfather, who could 
 ward off any influence merely by his irritating little 
 laugh, and who never laid aside this weapon of de- 
 fence even with his son, invariably abandoned it be- 
 fore my mother. And my father, whose authority 
 seemed to be absolute and infallible, would turn to 
 her as if he recognised in her some mysterious 
 power. 
 
 I know now what that power was: it was God 
 dwelling in her, whether she had been to meet him at 
 early mass, before any one else was up and stirring, 
 or whether she had oflTered to him her daily labours 
 in the house. . . . 
 
THE DYNASTY 39 
 
 My brothers and sisters and I were the people. In 
 every kingdom there must be a people. It is true 
 that in most houses now-a-days one wonders what has 
 become of the people. The king and queen, dejected 
 as two weeping willows, are wearily watching one an- 
 other grow old. They have no one to govern and 
 they will not lay aside their crown. At our house 
 the people were numerous and noisy. If you can 
 count, you already know that there were seven of 
 us, from Melanie who was seven years older than I, 
 to James, who was six years younger. 
 
 Before being led into action, the whole battalion 
 used to undergo a preliminary inspection from Aunt 
 Deen, who was in charge of the review of details. 
 
 Aunt Deen was endowed with an activity which 
 years could not abate, and of which all the servants 
 except Mariette shamelessly took advantage. Al- 
 ways coming and going, from cellar to garret, always 
 on the stairs — for she invariably forgot half the 
 things she intended to do, or suddenly interrupted 
 whatever she might be doing — beginning to sweep, 
 leaving off to hunt dust under a piece of furniture, 
 warring against spider's webs with a wolf's head — a 
 sort of brush fastened to the end of a long pole, — 
 or rushing to the aid of one of us who had cried out, 
 she had rocked, washed, dressed, cuddled, watched 
 over, amused, kept busy, cared for and caressed all 
 seven of us, and even an eighth, who had died before 
 I could remember. 
 
40 THE HOUSE 
 
 To this imposing number must also be added 
 grandfather, whom she shielded from aU care. He 
 was not exacting. Provided he could have at hand 
 whatever he might desire he asked no favours of 
 any one. To be sure, the disorder of his room must 
 always be respected; he watched over it jealously, in- 
 sisting that no one could ever find things that had 
 been put away. He took the indulgence of his whims 
 as a matter of course, paying no attention except 
 when he was irritated by an exaggerated degree of 
 consideration. 
 
 As for our education and training, our moral 
 guidance. Aunt Deen, notwithstanding her advan- 
 tage in the matter of age, placed herself at the serv- 
 ice of our mother, for whom she entertained unlim- 
 ited admiration and affection. Even in old age she 
 would accept the functions of a subaltern only. 
 When she had said " Valentine wishes this ; Valentine 
 says that" (Valentine was our mother), there was 
 no room for discussion. She herself obeyed to the 
 very letter, without even seeking to enter into the 
 spirit. Not one of her thoughts was for herself ; she 
 distributed them all, without exception, among the 
 others. She could see no good in scolding, and hung 
 her head when any of us was reprimanded, as if in 
 protest against the harshness of authority. She not 
 only never carried tales about us, she found unimag- 
 ined excuses for our worst faults, such wonderful 
 excuses as sometimes to ward off punishment merely 
 by the surprise which they awakened. 
 
THE DYNASTY 41 
 
 " That child has taken some pears." 
 " The tree needed relief, it was too heavily loaded." 
 "That child's table manners aren't .nice. Did 
 you see him put his hands into his saucer of 
 spinach .'' " 
 
 " He does so delight in green things ! " 
 In our studies she took no interest. But she had 
 that soul-culture which bestows its delicate flower 
 upon the mind. One knew quite enough if one was 
 well behaved and a good Catholic. Indeed it was 
 her opinion that our brains were too early crowded 
 with a lot of useless knowledge. She could find no 
 manner of use for the history of pagans, and as for 
 arithmetic, she had never known how to add. But 
 on the other hand our health, our cleanliness, our 
 happiness, were entirely her affair. She sang to put 
 us to sleep, she sang to amuse us, she sang to encour- 
 age us to take our first steps. All my memories re- 
 verberate with the tintinnabulation of her songs. 
 There was one cradle song in which we became by 
 turns general, cardinal and emperor, and the refrain 
 of which was designed to encourage us to wait with 
 patience for the brilliant future. 
 
 " Meamvhile wait, and on my lap, 
 Lovely cherub, take your nap." 
 
 The lovely cherubim, however, were seldom in 
 haste to take their naps. 
 
 There was also the " Charming Nest " which 
 " naughty little sharp-eyed imps " tried to destroy, 
 though it ought to be respected, for 
 
42 THE HOUSE 
 
 "It was the hope of Spring time 
 And all a mother's love." 
 
 Sometimes it would be the prisoner Silvio Pellico 
 who in heart-rending strains longed for his Italian 
 breezes. One of my earliest plays was the escape 
 of Silvio PeDico, though I had no idea who he was. 
 My favourite songs were perhaps " The Pool " and 
 " Venice." I call them thus because I knew no other 
 titles for them. "The Pool" told of a fearful 
 tragedy from drowning: 
 
 Little children, have a care 
 When you run across and follow. 
 There^s a deep pool hidden there 
 By the dark trees in the hollow. 
 
 Listen to what happened there, 
 When a child with golden hair, 
 Slipped away from his mamtna-a-a. 
 
 The fair child was running after a dragon-fly, and 
 " the maiden with golden wings " enticed him into 
 the cold water. That would teach him not to steal 
 away from the maternal arms ! As for " Venice," I 
 remember likewise the first lines, with all their dog- 
 gerel : 
 
 If Ood should favor-ize 
 My noble enterprise, 
 I'll hie me to Ven^e 
 And spend my days in joy. 
 
 Whether from the magic of the name of an un- 
 known city, or the melancholy air of the ritornello, 
 
THE DYNASTY 43 
 
 I could in those days imagine no more enchanting 
 journey than to go to that Venice whose gondolas 
 I had been shown in a stereoscope. In later years, 
 dreading disappointment, I hesitated long before 
 carrying out the plan bom of that far-away music 
 — the music that we still hear within ourselves long 
 after childhood's d^ys are past. Can it be that this 
 is one of the surest guardians of the home ? — that a 
 simple luUaby, sung to quiet us, is the first spark to 
 kindle our imaginations? And when, long after, I 
 at last saw the city of flowing streets and rosy pal- 
 aces, I entered it with respect, recalling to mind that 
 ray visit represented a " noble enterprise " ; as if 
 all its wondrous charm had been enfolded in Aunt 
 Deen's cradle-song. 
 
 I imagine that some of her Innumerable songs were 
 of her own invention. Or at least, having forgotten 
 their precise words, I suppose that she recomposed 
 them after her own fashion. There was especially 
 a certain " Father Gregory," half recited, half sung, 
 which is hardly likely to be found in any collection. 
 A charming old lady to whom I repeated it one day 
 assured me that Father Gregory was known also in 
 Berry, in the neighbourhood of Chatre, under the 
 name of Father Christopher. The song, a sort of 
 rhythmical prose, was declaimed in a singsong, sud- 
 denly bursting into a tune in the final syllables. A 
 whole little comedy of vanity is summed up in a few 
 phrases. You may judge for yourself from the 
 version of it that I tell from memory. 
 
44. THE HOUSE 
 
 Father Gregory camw owl of his house this morn- 
 mg. Perfectly natural thus far; Father Gregory is 
 going to take a walk, as is his right; but wait till 
 you hear a detail that characterises this promenade: 
 in, his hat a f.ne houquet of poppies. You must swell 
 out your voice with the poppies. This field flower 
 becomes a symbol of pomp and ostentation. Aha! 
 Father Gregory is no longer a worthy fellow who 
 goes out to inhale the breezes of the country-side; 
 he is an old beau who puts on airs ; he parades, he 
 struts, he c^ers, he expects to be gazed at and ad- 
 mired. But you will be punished, Father Gregory; 
 ill-luck awaits you! 
 
 On the may his dog began to fight with mme. This 
 bit of news is simply announced. It seems at first 
 to be of slight importance. A bad thing neverthe- 
 less, — a dog fight in a little town. What ! you don't 
 know that.? You have never lived in the country? 
 A dog fight is a matter of special gravity. The mas- 
 ters intervene, they take sides, and the defeated one 
 swears that the matter shall not end here. Whole 
 families have been embroiled through a dog fight. 
 What was the origin of the enmity between the Mon- 
 tagus and the Capulets? Perhaps a dog fight. And 
 just this way our Father Gregory undertakes to in- 
 terfere; his dog is getting the worst of it, rolled in 
 the dust as a dumpling in flour. Father Gregory, 
 trying to part them, twnibles, nose first, in the filth. 
 He rushes to the rescue with uplifted cane, his foot 
 slips, and behold him on the ground in a lamentable 
 
THE DYNASTY 45 
 
 posture, especially his nose, having made a most un- 
 lucky choice of a spot upon which to fall. At this 
 point it is proper to assume a melancholy tone, the 
 apostrophe which follows reaching a note of heart- 
 rending grief. Poor Father Gregory! A pause. 
 He is to be pitied, for his misfortune is great. But 
 suddenly, pity becomes sarcasm, pointing to his 
 pride. See Ms hunch of poppies, far from his hat! 
 The emblems of his vanity are soiled. He himself 
 may go home, and wash and brush himself, but he 
 can never use the poppies again, and but for them 
 nothing would have happened to him. 
 
 I attribute Father Gregory to Aunt Deen because 
 of the fertility of her imagination, which daily pro- 
 vided her with new stories for our delectation. 
 Grown persons are not often on a level with chil- 
 dren: they take too low a place. Aunt Deen had 
 an instinct for what was suited to us. Her stories 
 kept us breathless. When I try to rescue them from 
 the past, for her credit, they fly before me, smiling. 
 " No, no," they say — for I get close to them, only 
 between us is a great chasm, deep, though not wide, 
 which is the common grave of aU my vanished years 
 — " what is the use ? You can never do anything 
 with us. See : we have taken the colour of that time : 
 how are you to describe that.'' " 
 
 When grandfather came upon us sitting in a cir- 
 cle around our story-teller, he would shake his head 
 disapprovingly. 
 
 " Fiddle-faddles," he would murmur ; " fiddle- 
 
46 THE HOUSE 
 
 f addles. One owes it to children to tell them the 
 truth." 
 
 We would ask Aunt Deen what -fiddle-faddles were, 
 and she would answer, by way of getting her revenge, 
 " It's what one does when one plays the vioiin." 
 
 Between her songs and grandfather's violin there 
 was sometimes a deafening discord. 
 
 Aunt Deen possessed another marvellous faculty 
 — that of inventing words. I have already told you 
 of carabosser, but she invented them by the hundred, 
 so well adapted to their purpose that we understood 
 them at once. I can not transcribe them — they 
 lose their value when written down. Indeed I don't 
 know how to spell them; spoken language is not the 
 same as written language, and her picturesque words 
 had all the savour and crispness of popular speech. 
 Aunt Deen also used rare words — where she found 
 them is a mystery for she seldom read — strange and 
 sonorous words and phrases that seemed her special 
 property, and which since then, to my surprise and 
 amusement, I have discovered in the dictionary, 
 where I should never have thought of looking for 
 them. Thus, to call down my pride, she one day 
 called me a hospodar, and another day, " the pur- 
 veyor in chief of mustard to the Pope." I did not 
 know that the hospodars were the tyrants of Walla- 
 chia, and that to believe oneself purveyor of mus- 
 tard to the Pope meant to have a high opinion of 
 oneself. These strange titles with which she in- 
 vested me used to make me think of some big man, 
 
THE DYNASTY 47 
 
 all in red, issuing commands in a loud voice, and I 
 did not enjoy being likened to him. 
 
 Dear great-aunt Deen, let me apostrophise you 
 after the manner of poor Father Gregory! If my 
 early childhood rings musically in my memory, as if 
 it were mounted upon one of those mules all bedight 
 with sleigh-bells, that can not move without giving 
 forth a multitudinous jingle from far away as if 
 to announce the approach of a great train, I owe 
 it to your stories and your songs. As soon as 
 thought summons it, and that is daily, here it 
 comes, loudly ringing its joy-bells, because of which 
 I shall never have reason to complain of fate. Be- 
 fore I see it, I hear it — that merry procession of 
 memory; and when, at some turn of the road that 
 leads from the past to the present, it suddenly comes 
 upon me, it bears in its arms all the flowers of the 
 springtide. You well deserve the bouquet of them 
 that I pick for you, even a bouquet of poppies, as a 
 guerdon for all the stories that you added to your 
 care and prayers. For you were always praying 
 audibly, on the stairs or in church or even under 
 the banner of the wolf's head itself. Silence was 
 painful to you. That is why, dear Aunt Deen, I 
 break it this evening and talk to you. 
 
 Aunt Deen kept strenuous watch outside of the 
 house. To get inside you had, like the wolf in Hans 
 Christian Andersen, to show a white paw like a sheep. 
 She designated by the name of they the invisible foes 
 
48 THE HOUSE 
 
 that were supposed to be investing it. For a long 
 time these mysterious they terrified us. We used to 
 look around whenever she spoke of them. By dint 
 of never meeting them we at last came to laugh at 
 them, little thinking that this laugh disarmed us, 
 and that thus disarmed we should surely meet them 
 later in flesh and blood. Her loyalty was never 
 caught napping. The moment the family was in 
 question she would insist upon a meed of praise being 
 at once awarded it, failing which she promptly as- 
 sumed the defensive, ready for battle. A certain 
 person who ventured to speak of it in colourless 
 terms found himself scanned from head to foot, and 
 to mask his sense of defeat took refuge in sarcasm: 
 
 " I forgot," said he, " that your house was the 
 Ark of the Covenant." 
 
 " And yours Noah's Ark," she retorted with a tic 
 for his tac, knowing that her interlocutor harboured 
 all sorts of shady folk. 
 
 In those days the bread was made in the kitchen 
 in a kneading trough nearly a hundred years old, 
 before being carried for baking to the town oven. 
 Aunt Deen, who loved all sorts of cookery, used to 
 oversee the operation, and even at times take a hand 
 in it herself. One day when I was looking on, 
 at the moment when the servant was about to mingle 
 the flour, water and leaven, my aunt suddenly gave 
 her a vigorous shake. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, girl? " 
 
 " Mixing the bread, miss," 
 
THE DYNASTY 49 
 
 " You are forgetting the sign of the cross." 
 
 For in serious houses no one omitted the sign of 
 the cross over white flour that was on the point of 
 being made into bread. At table, before cutting the 
 loaf, father never failed to trace upon it a cross, 
 with two strokes of the knife. When it fell to grand- 
 father to cut the bread I was quick to notice that he 
 did nothing of the kind. 
 
 That was one of my first surprises. From my 
 earliest days I understood the importance of differ- 
 ences of opinion in matters religious. 
 
 Grandfather played his violin whenever he pleased. 
 But he did not like to be disturbed. We learned this 
 by experience. My sister Melanie and my brother 
 Stephen, who had retained from their first commun- 
 ion an ardent and somewhat aggressive piety, had 
 built up a little chapel in a cupboard in that octa- 
 gon parlour which we used to call the music room 
 because in former days concerts used to be given 
 there, and an old grand piano still stood there. It 
 had been agreed among us that when Melanie and 
 Stephen were grown up they were to evangelise the 
 savages, just as Bernard was to be an officer and 
 win back Alsace and Lorraine, and Louise, the sec- 
 ond sister, always generous, was to marry a cham- 
 pagne grower so that we might always drink as much 
 as we chose of that sparkling golden wine to which 
 we had never put our lips except on occasions of 
 family festival. Thus the future was beautifully ar- 
 ranged for, except my own personal career which re- 
 
60 THE HOUSE 
 
 mained uncertain. Melanie had been named for the 
 little shepherdess of Dauphiny who at that time was 
 much in people's minds; the mystery of La Salette 
 was talked of in guarded words. Sometimes I would 
 ask her if she was not afraid of being eaten by can- 
 nibals, the existence of which had been revealed to 
 me by my illustrated geography. Far from cooling 
 her zeal, this frightful prospect simply warmed it. 
 Stephen aspired no less ardently to martyrdom, not- 
 withstanding that an unlucky adventure had hap- 
 pened to him in school: his comrades, admiring his 
 devotion, had counted upon his performing a mira- 
 cle on the day of his first communion, and the miracle 
 not coming oif, he was consequently held in some 
 slight contempt. 
 
 I can never remember what sort of vespers or com- 
 plines we used to say before the cupboard. The 
 ceremonies consisted of hymns vociferated in chorus. 
 Notwithstanding my tender years I was invited to 
 share in these clerical manifestations. On that oc- 
 casion we used to hold forth with all the energy of 
 neophytes. Melanie in particular would pitch her 
 voice in its highest key, her piety being proportion- 
 ate to the noise she made. Unluckily the music 
 room was near grandfather's chamber. All of a sud- 
 den, as we were at the utmost height of fervour, the 
 door opened and grandfather appeared. He never 
 used to pay much attention to us, though when we 
 came within his visual angle he would look afiFably 
 upon us. But this time he appeared to be greatly 
 
THE DYNASTY 51 
 
 irritated. His dressing-gown flowing behind him, 
 his Greek cap awry, his beard all disorder, gave him 
 a fearsome aspect, greatly in contrast with his usual 
 manner. He exclaimed harshly, " It's impossible to 
 have a moment's peace in this house. Shut that cup- 
 board, quick!" 
 
 We had disturbed his siesta, and his usually even 
 temper was the worse for it. We hastily closed the 
 cupboard. And we knew in that moment all the hor- 
 ror of arbitrary decrees and special laws. The de- 
 votion of Melanie and Stephen was but increased, as 
 always happens in time of persecution, but mine, less 
 lively, or of younger growth, was cooled, I greatly 
 fear. 
 
 Not long after it experienced another blow. In 
 our town the Fete-Dieu was celebrated with incom- 
 parable pomp and display. People came from afar 
 to take part in it. Where shall we have again such 
 nobly imposing and magnificent spectacles.'* They 
 have been replaced by gymnastic contests, or proces- 
 sions of mutual aid societies, the bad taste of which 
 is heartbreaking. I pity the children of to-day who 
 have never had opportunity to feel, amid popular ac- 
 clamations and universal emotion, the imminent pres- 
 ence of God. 
 
 The town was divided in rivalry of its wayside al- 
 tars ; each quarter felt its reputation at stake. They 
 were composed of moss and flowers, lilies, horten- 
 sias, geraniums and violets arranged in the form of 
 a cross, or ingeniously combined in pious designs of 
 
52 THE HOUSE 
 
 a more complicated nature. All the gardens and 
 groves were ruthlessly despoiled on their account. 
 The finest one was always promoted to the terrace 
 overshadowed by ancient trees that overlooked the 
 lake. 
 
 When the morning came every window was watch- 
 ing the daybreak, imploring heaven for favourable 
 weather. The streets were bordered with pines and 
 larches which the peasants, on the previous evening 
 or the one before that, had brought from the moun- 
 tain in their ox-carts. Wreaths hung upon ribbons 
 were thrown across the street like light cables above 
 a stream, so that one walked about under hundreds 
 of improvised triumphal arches. Here and there, 
 the better to adorn the house fronts, some one had set 
 out a table covered with a white cloth bearing pic- 
 tures, vases, statuettes with a lamp, and had made 
 ready baskets of roses for the refreshment of the angel 
 battalion. In the poorest alleys the good wives set 
 forth before their houses all their precious posses- 
 sions, even to daguerreotypes of relatives, or their 
 most artistically decorated caps, the better to honour 
 the passing of the Holy Sacrament. Thus the en- 
 tire town adorned itself, like a bride for her marriage. 
 
 Every one gathered before the church; the con- 
 fraternities in costume with their banners, the brass 
 band, their well polished instruments shining in the 
 sunlight, the school children, girls and boys, the very 
 smallest of them waving banners and all the popula- 
 tion massed behind these official groups, all drawn 
 
THE DYNASTY 53 
 
 up in good order. Then, upon the pavement before 
 the church slowly advanced the sacred procession, 
 while all the bells rang together; angels with wings 
 of silver paper strewing the way with flower-petals 
 drawn from little baskets suspended from their necks, 
 clerks and sacristans in red cassocks, swinging cen- 
 sers whence arose blue smoke and a spicy odour, sur- 
 pliced priests, canons in ermine rochets, and finally, 
 upon a dais the colour of pure gold, or of ripe wheat, 
 its four comers decorated with tufts of white plumes, 
 escorted by four black-coated notables holding its 
 cords, came Monsignor arrayed in a golden chasuble 
 and bearing upon his breast the great golden mon- 
 strance. 
 
 It was a solemn moment, and yet there was one 
 even more impressive. After having traversed the 
 entire town, the procession would draw up for the 
 last benediction upon the open place that forms a 
 terrace above the lake, upheld by the walls of an 
 ancient fortress. It would be near noon. The rays 
 of the sun, falling directly upon the lake, were mir- 
 rored back, brightening all the colours, and flashing 
 out in stars from every fleck of gold. Around the 
 flower-decked altar the various bands were grouped, 
 their standards all unfurled. Around these stood the 
 soldiers in a large circle, the troops taking part for 
 the last time in a religious ceremonial. They closed 
 up, and at the command genou terre! they fell upon 
 one knee, the officers waved their swords, and the 
 clarions sounded loudly over all the fields. Many an 
 
54. THE HOUSE 
 
 old woman wept with joy as she prostrated herself, 
 needing to see nothing more to know that God was 
 there. Yet there was more ; a priest, mounting upon 
 a stool, drew the monstrance from its flower-decked 
 niche and handed it to Monsignor, and the august 
 officiant, lifting it high in air, traced above the great 
 congregation the sign of the cross. The tremor 
 with which I was at that moment shaken thrUled 
 through the entire crowd, a great wave of emotion, 
 such as reveals to a whole people that they are one 
 in faith. 
 
 When I went home in my school-boy uniform I 
 was still all a-thrill. Mother was waiting for me. 
 She perceived what I had just been experiencing, and 
 I saw tears rush to her eyes as she proudly kissed 
 me. She, sacrificing herself, had not witnessed the 
 ceremony. Some one must take care of the house 
 and prepare for the guests who always came to us 
 on that day. But she had come out and knelt before 
 the door, hidden by the pines, when the procession 
 went by. I had seen her through the branches. For 
 a short moment she had united Mary's part with that 
 of Martha. 
 
 Father presently came home, warm and tired. He 
 had had the honour of being chosen to hold one of 
 the cords of the dais, and though he was bald, he 
 had remained bareheaded, at the risk of a sunstroke. 
 
 " Dear wife ! " he said simply, pressing mother to 
 his heart. He had never given expression to his love 
 
THE DYNASTY 55 
 
 for her before me, and that is why I remember this. 
 He too was stirred with high enthusiasm. 
 
 Then came grandfather, smiHng, spruce, his frock 
 coat buttoned awry and his black hat a little on one 
 side, but except for these minor matters dressed with 
 almost irreproachable care. 
 
 " Well ! " mother asked him in gentle triumph, 
 " were you there this time ? " 
 
 It appeared that in former years he had gone out 
 for a walk and had not returned before evening. I 
 had already perceived, from a thousand slight indi- 
 cations, that there was not absolute agreement in 
 religious matters in our house and that the subject 
 was usually avoided. Grandfather could not repress 
 the little sardonic laugh which he seldom be- 
 stowed upon my mother: 
 
 " Superb, superb ! " he said. " One might have 
 thought oneself at the festival of the sun. The 
 pagans could not have done it better." 
 
 Mother's face crimsoned. She turned and sent me 
 away on some pretext of an errand. As I was going 
 I heard my father's clear voice : 
 
 "I beg you not to jest upon this subject before 
 the children." 
 
 And the sarcastic voice replying: 
 
 "But I am not jesting." 
 
 In the street the nearest extemporised altar was 
 already lying on the ground, like the useless shell of 
 a firework. Everything had disappeared but the 
 
56 THE HOUSE 
 
 scaffoldings, crosses of flowers, moss. Candelabra 
 had been hastily put under cover because of the 
 threatening rain, for clouds had suddenly overspread 
 the sky, and also because every one had gone home 
 to dinner. My enthusiasm had fallen too, beneath 
 a word of doubt. 
 
 At the Feast of the Epiphany every one had to 
 imitate the acts of the king who had been designated 
 by the bean. If he drank every one cried, " The 
 king drinks," and each one seized his glass. If the 
 king began to laugh every one burst into laughter. 
 Ought not a king to know when one should laugh and 
 when he should keep his face straight? 
 
Ill 
 
 THE ENEMIES 
 
 There was one Saturday evening, I remem- 
 ber. . . . 
 
 I can not fix the precise date, but I know it must 
 have been a Saturday because on coming home from 
 school I met at the door Oui-oui, shaking his head, 
 and Zeez MilHon counting the amount of her inter- 
 est, on her open palm. 
 
 Saturday was the day for the poor. We usually 
 watched the procession under shelter of a closed win- 
 dow, for Aunt Deen, who was a stickler for class dis- 
 tinctions, prudently kept us shielded from their ver- 
 minous contact. Zeez, or Louise, was a crazy woman 
 to whom was regularly given every week the modest 
 subsidy of fifty centimes, which she called her in- 
 terest. Insanity did not affect her exactions : a new 
 servant, not suflSciently instructed having insulted her 
 by doling out two sous, had received back the inade- 
 quate money in her face. Her reason had been af- 
 fected by the expectation of a large prize in the lot- 
 tery. She now spoke only of millions and the name 
 had stuck by her. 
 
 As for Yes-yes, he owed the soubriquet to his nod- 
 ding head, the weight of which he could ill sustain, 
 
 57 
 
58 THE HOUSE 
 
 and which Incessantly wagged up and down like those 
 articulated animals exhibited at bazars, their mo- 
 tions extolled by artful merchants by way of In- 
 creasing their price. My sister Melanie and I had 
 Incurred his wrath, under memorable circumstances. 
 Melanie having read In the gospels that a glass of 
 water given to the poor would be paid back a hun- 
 dred fold, conceived the idea of offering one to Oul- 
 oui. In the goodness of her heart, she was even 
 willing to let me participate in her beneficence. I 
 held the caraffe, ready to offer a second draught. 
 But he considered our gift an insult. Grandfather, 
 when he heard of our Ill-starred effort, completed 
 our discomfiture: 
 
 " Offering water to that drunkard ! He would 
 rather never wash again than touch water." 
 
 And In our presence he tendered to Oui-oul a glass 
 of red wine, which was swallowed at a draught, fol- 
 lowed by a second and a third till the entire bottle 
 was gone. If grandfather was to receive back his 
 offering a hundred fold, his thirst would be copi- 
 ously quenched in the celestial kingdom. 
 
 Whenever grandfather, going out for his daily 
 walk, met beggars at the door, he would desire that 
 bread and not money should be given them. 
 
 " Money is immoral," he would insist. " Let us 
 share our bread with these good folk." 
 
 I could not understand how money could be Im- 
 moral. And we always found at the foot of the stone 
 columns, broken into bits, all the bread that had 
 
THE ENEMIES 59 
 
 been given, the poor having received it with con- 
 tempt. 
 
 It must have been a Saturday in June. It was 
 still broad day, though it was past seven o'clock 
 when I came back to the house, and on the edge of 
 the garden there was still a haycock which Tern Bos- 
 sette must have mown, taking plenty of time. I just 
 muttered, " How d'ye do, Yes-yes ; how d'ye do, 
 Zeez," without so much as waiting for their reply ; 
 did not close the door which they had left open, and 
 slipped into the passage that led to the kitchen, for 
 I had lingered on the way home from school to play 
 with some schoolmates in a narrow street that we 
 called " behind the walls," because it bordered a row 
 of houses shut in like fortresses. I had no quarrel 
 with this unsocial way of shutting every one out, 
 though I preferred such fences or hedges as per- 
 mit one to satisfy his curiosity, and do not so 
 abruptly shut ofF the view; but grandfather, when 
 he passed that way, never concealed his disgust. 
 " The earth is for everybody, and they mew her up 
 as if they feared she would run away ! " 
 
 He spoke of it as of a living person. Except for 
 our house I should have been quite willing to do 
 away with all enclosures. Did not the earth belong 
 to me.'' 
 
 " Behind the walls " we used to have great games 
 of marbles in the very middle of the street, certain 
 of not being disturbed. If a chance cart should 
 enter the street, the driver, held up by our protests. 
 
60 THE HOUSE 
 
 would wait patiently until we had finished our game, 
 sometimes he would even interest himself in the proc- 
 ess; after which he would go on his way. Nobody 
 was in a hurry in those days. At the present time 
 that road is the Boulevard of the Constitution, and 
 one has to look out for automobiles. I have no idea 
 where children go to play now-a-days. 
 
 My haste was not due to fear of being scolded for 
 being late. I was sure that no one had so much as 
 thought of me. But merely by approaching the 
 gate I had felt the strange uneasiness which at that 
 time seemed to pervade the house like some formal 
 guest whose presence makes every one feel iU at ease. 
 Domestic tragedies make their approach felt long in 
 advance by signs somewhat Kke those of a coming 
 storm: a breathless atmosphere, intermittent showers 
 of tears, the distant murmur of recriminations and 
 laments. There was electricity in the air. My 
 mother, who never failed to light her blessed candle 
 as soon as thunder began to growl, was praying more 
 often than ever, and I could see that she was anxious, 
 for her pure eyes could never hide anything. Aunt 
 Deen tore up and down stairs with feverish, almost 
 warlike, ardour, inflamed with a rage that gave her 
 an invincible strength, amazing The Hanged, and 
 making those spiders that thought themselves just 
 beyond reach suflFer the ruthlessly avenging wolf's 
 head. She was continually uttering threats against 
 invisible enemies. Ah! the wretches! They would 
 soon know with whom they had to deal ! " They " 
 
THE ENEMIES 61 
 
 were certainly getting vigorous castigation in ad- 
 vance. Even our father, generally so self-con- 
 trolled, appeared absorbed. At table he would 
 sometimes throw back his head as if to drive away 
 troublesome thoughts. And more than once I had 
 perceived him conversing in a low voice with our 
 mother, giving her documents on blue paper to 
 read, the words of which I did not understand. 
 Every one was on the alert for something to hap- 
 pen, perhaps a bulletin of victory or of disaster, such 
 as comes to a country where the armies are on the 
 frontier. 
 
 Alone among these secret parleyings, these evi- 
 dent anxieties, grandfather maintained the most 
 complete indifference. Evidently the approaching 
 event was no affair of his. He played the violin, 
 smoked his pipe, consulted his barometer, inspected 
 the sky, predicted the weather, as if nothing could 
 be more important, and he went regularly for his 
 walk. Nothing was changing, nothing could change 
 for him except the clouds across the sun. As for 
 things of earth, they were utterly without impor- 
 tance. 
 
 Once father attempted to ask his opinion, or pre- 
 sent to him the peril of a situation which I could 
 not in the least understand. His words were sup- 
 plicating, moving, pathetic, yet full of a respect 
 which in no degree lessened their emphasis. Lying 
 on the floor with my school book I lost nothing of 
 the conversation, instead of studying my lesson. 
 
62 THE HOUSE 
 
 But I could catch only detached words which by de- 
 grees filled me with terror : " careless administra- 
 tion," "responsibility," "mortgage," "sentence," 
 " total ruin," " auction," and at last the terrifying 
 conclusion, like the blow of a cane on my head, 
 
 " Then we must leave the house? " 
 
 Leave the house! I can still see grandfather lift- 
 ing his arm wearily, as if to drive away a fly, letting 
 it fall again as he replied with a great gentleness 
 which at first deceived me as to his thought : 
 
 " Oh, as far as I am concerned, it's all one whether 
 we live in this house or in another " ; adding with 
 his everlasting little laugh: 
 
 " Ha, ha ! when one hires a house one can ask 
 for repairs. In one's own house one never gets 
 any." 
 
 At that moment father perceived me. His eyes 
 were so dreadful that I was terrified and broke out 
 into gooseflesh; but he simply said, without raising 
 his voice: 
 
 " Run away, child. This is no place for you." 
 
 I ran away, stupefied with a gentleness that was 
 in such contrast with his face. Now I recognise it 
 as a witness to his tremendous mastery of himself. 
 I rushed out into the garden, carrying, like a bomb 
 under my arm, the formidable utterance. Whether we 
 live in this house or another. The idea had never 
 occurred to me, could never have come to me, that 
 we could live in another house. I felt as if I had 
 been witnessing a sacrilege, but at the same time the 
 
THE ENEMIES 63 
 
 sacrilege found harbour in my brain because it had 
 had no immediate sanction, had been accompanied 
 by no solemnity, was like any indifferent act, like 
 an act of no consequence at all. Was it possible 
 that such words could have been uttered as a mere 
 aside, negligently, even smilingly! 
 
 For the first time my notions of life were turned 
 topsy-turvey. I confided my bewilderment to Tem 
 Bessette, who was ruminating, leaning upon the 
 handle of his spade. He lent me a complaisant ear, 
 but took the opportunity to impart to me a bit of 
 his personal history: 
 
 " I had a son in the hospital. When I saw that 
 he was going to die, I rolled him up in a quilt and 
 went away with my bundle. He died at home." 
 
 I could not grasp the immediate applicability of 
 his story, which he had told proudly, as if recalling 
 an act of heroism. He shortly condescended to ex- 
 plain : 
 
 "It's your lawsuit that is worrying them." 
 
 Our lawsuit.'' We had a lawsuit.? I had no idea 
 what it was, and though I felt shame for my ig- 
 norance I asked the vinedresser : 
 
 "What is a lawsuit?" 
 
 He scratched his nose, no doubt in search of a 
 definition. 
 
 "It's something about justice. One loses, one 
 wins, just as it happens. But when one loses it's 
 a great bother. On account of the sheriffs, who 
 walk into your house as into a mill." 
 
64 THE HOUSE 
 
 The sheriffs were to walk into our House as into 
 a mill! In an instant I pictured them under the 
 guise of gigantic insects, enormous mole crickets 
 swarming into the garden through the breach made 
 by the chestnut tree, advancing in serried ranks 
 to invest the house. I was particularly afraid of 
 mole-crickets, which have a long clammy body and 
 two antennae on the head, and enjoy a detest- 
 able reputation in agricultural circles : aU sorts of 
 misdeeds are attributed to them — they ravage 
 whole garden beds. I had actually seen some crawl- 
 ing through the breach, and in the face of their in- 
 vasion not all the arms manufactured by Tem Bos- 
 sette sufficed to reassure me. I had turned tail, so 
 to speak, upon my riding pole. 
 
 " It's all Monsieur's fatdt," concluded the la- 
 bourer, upon whose heart the affair hung heavy. 
 " But what will you have? He doesn't care for any- 
 thing, and when one doesn't care for anything noth- 
 ing goes right. It's lucky there's Master Michael." 
 
 Then, on one side there were the mole-crickets and 
 on the other there was my father. A fearsome battle 
 was to take place of which the house was the stake. 
 And during the battle grandfather, indifferent, would 
 be looking in the air, according to his custom, to see 
 which way the wind blew. Up to that time I had 
 supposed that, like the sluggard kings, he had noth- 
 ing to do, but behold, he could bring about catas- 
 trophes ! With one word he could close chapels, be- 
 
THE ENEMIES 65 
 
 little ancestral portraits, and above all, it was quite 
 the same to him to live in one house as in another! 
 Why not in a roulotte, one of those waggon houses 
 overflowing with bronzed gipsies, such as I had seen 
 passing the gate, to the great terror of Aunt Deen, 
 who used to call us in hastily, and give orders to 
 bolt all the doors and look after the vegetables and 
 fruits. 
 
 I was going in, greatly depressed by this conver- 
 sation when I ran against Aunt Deen herself, whose 
 assistance had been invoked by The Hanged for some 
 arduous task requiring nerve and muscle. 
 
 " The lawsuit," I cried, by way of relieving my 
 mind. She stopped short. 
 
 "Who has been talking to you?" 
 
 " Tern Bossette." 
 
 " That fellow must be sent away. Beatrix and 
 Pachoux will have to do by themselves." 
 
 She did not count herself. She simply called 
 Beatrix by his right name. 
 
 Did she perceive from my tone or my face the in- 
 ward tragedy through which I was passing.'' She 
 shook me, laughing: 
 
 " Child, when your father is here, there is never 
 anything to be afraid of — do you hear.? " 
 
 And I was at once consoled. 
 
 She was already hastening after the labourer with 
 a ball of red string in her hand which Mariette had 
 doubtless refused to intrust to him. As she went she 
 
66 THE HOUSE 
 
 tossed her head proudly, like a horse that snuffs the 
 wind and I heard her muttering to herself. 
 
 " Well, I declare, if that isn't the last drop ! " 
 
 By what signs, that Saturday evening, did I dis- 
 cern that the battle had been fought, that we were 
 only waiting to learn the result? In the kitchen 
 there was no Mariette over the stove. She was de- 
 bating, vehemently, with Philomena, the waitress, 
 who was carrying the soup tureen all awry, at great 
 risk of spilling its contents, and with my old friend 
 Tem, redder even than usual, who was doing his best 
 to reassure the household by a word of prophecy. 
 
 " No, no, things wiU go well. To begin with, for 
 my part, I will not leave the garden." 
 
 As soon as they saw me there was silence, and 
 Mariette quickly recovered her usual coolness and 
 began to scold me. 
 
 " You are late. Master Francis. The second bell 
 has rung. You will be scolded." And to Philo- 
 mena: 
 
 " Why are you standing there like a stock? " 
 
 Thus were we dispersed. I was counting upon 
 meeting Aunt Deen in the vestibule before the din- 
 ing-room; she was always the last to come to table 
 because on the way she would find thirty-six differ- 
 ent things to be begun or finished, and dash upstairs 
 and down an indefinite number of times. My tactics 
 succeeded. To forestall inquiry I took the offen- 
 
THE ENEMIES 61 
 
 " What about the lawsuit? " 
 
 " Hush ; we are waiting to hear." 
 
 " To hear what? » 
 
 " It is being decided to-day in the Court." 
 
 She uttered the words " The Court " with instruc- 
 tive stateliness, that reminded me of the Court of the 
 Emperor Charlemagne, in my history book. A 
 grand personage, a king with a golden crown on 
 his head and wearing a golden chasuble like Mon- 
 signor the bishop in the procession, was concerning 
 himself with our matter. It was awe-inspiring but 
 flattering. 
 
 Under Aunt Deen's shadow I slipped into my 
 seat, endeavouring to put on a natural air. In the 
 spirit of good fellowship my brothers and sisters 
 refrained from calling attention to my arrival, so 
 that I could swallow my soup without being noticed. 
 Usually our mother came into the dining-room be- 
 fore us, to serve the soup. PhUomena's loquacity 
 had interfered with this preliminary operation and 
 I reaped the benefit of it. In fact, my parents paid 
 not the slightest attention to me, from which I could 
 infer that something was going on. I hastily gulped 
 down my food, and my plate emptied, I cast a com- 
 prehensive glance around the table. 
 
 In the seat of honour, grandfather, the reigning 
 king, was leaning over the table in order to drop no 
 soup upon his beard, the precaution evidently quite 
 absorbing him. I should learn nothing from him; 
 nor anything more from my father, who commanded 
 
68 THE HOUSE 
 
 the table from one of the corners, and whose glance 
 made me drop my eyes, for I could see distinctly 
 that he was aware of my fault. After having in- 
 quired of one another as to his occupations during 
 the day, he tried to make the conversation general. 
 But he was almost the only one who spoke. His 
 calm, his cheerfulness, soon completely restored the 
 confidence which two or three spoonfuls of warm 
 soup had already begun to awaken in me. Aunt 
 Deen, who could not remain inactive during the 
 intervals of the service, was busying herself in ad- 
 vance by mixing the salad, which she considered 
 her special function, although there had often been 
 some talk of withdrawing it from her because of her 
 prodigality in the matter of vinegar. She tossed 
 the green leaves and muttered vague exorcisms 
 against bad luck. My sister Louise was teas- 
 ing the little priest, the absent-minded Stephen, 
 whom one might serve indefinitely with the same dish. 
 But Bernard and Melanie, the two eldest, often 
 turned their eyes in one direction, and mine followed 
 them: they were looking at our mother and our 
 mother was looking at our father, upon whom in 
 this hour all our safety seemed to depend. 
 
 The lamp had been lighted but it was not yet dark 
 out of doors. Only the trees seemed to draw nearer, 
 their branches to grow thicker and to cast a deeper 
 shadow. Through the open windows a fresh breeze 
 came from the garden, bringing on its wings pell- 
 mell, the odour of flowers, and a cloud of night- 
 
THE ENEMIES 69 
 
 moths, which, attracted by the light, wheeled about 
 under the lamp shade. I watched their flight, at 
 times more deeply interested in them than in the dis- 
 turbed expression of the faces around the table. 
 
 The meal was drawing to a close ; the dessert was 
 already being served. I had begun to think that 
 nothing was going to happen. Suddenly Mariette 
 rushed into the dining-room, a telegram in her hand. 
 She had not waited to put it on a tray, she had not 
 given it to the maid who served at table, but brought 
 it in person just as she had received it from the post- 
 man. She, too, scented important news in the air, 
 and would learn what it was without delay. 
 
 " It is for Monsieur Rambert," she said. 
 
 She passed by grandfather's place, and crossed 
 the entire length of the room, as if she was but doing 
 her duty in handing the blue paper to father, who 
 was on the side toward the windows. Father took it 
 from her, but handed it at once to the actual ad- 
 dressee. 
 
 " Do you want it.? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, no thank you," said grandfather with his 
 little laugh. " Open it yourself." 
 
 Nevertheless I caught him casting a quick, alert 
 glance upon the telegram. His little laugh at once 
 recalled to my mind a rattle which had been taken 
 away from me because it disturbed everybody. That 
 little laugh was the last sound. An almost solemn 
 silence ensued, so complete that I could hear the tear- 
 ing of the envelope. How could father open it with 
 
70 THE HOUSE 
 
 so little impatience? I imagined myself opening it 
 in his place, err — err ... it was done. All eyes 
 converged upon the deliberate motions of his two 
 hands — all except those of grandfather, who quite 
 as peacefully removed the crust from a bit of cheese, 
 and seemed to take pleasure in the trifling task. 
 Father felt our anxiety and doubtless wished to re- 
 lieve it at all hazards; instead of reading he raised 
 his eyes to us. 
 
 " Go on eating," he said. " It does not concern 
 you." 
 
 Then turning to the cook who had remained be- 
 hind his chair, leaning over like an interrogation 
 point : 
 
 " Thank you, Mariette, you may go." 
 
 She went, vexed, knowing nothing, but sent in 
 Philomena who learned no more than she. 
 
 Finally my father read. Deliberate as he had been 
 in the preliminaries he was quick enough in reading. 
 He must have taken in the whole at a glance. He 
 was already putting the telegram in his pocket with- 
 out a word, without the movement of a muscle, when 
 he looked around the table, and under his gaze we 
 bent our eyes upon our plates. 
 
 " Come, come, children ! " he exclaimed almost 
 gaily. " It is still light. Make haste to finish your 
 dessert and run play in the garden." 
 
 He spoke in his usual tone, at once cheery and 
 commanding. It was so simple that for a moment 
 our mother quite brightened up. I saw that as I 
 
THE ENEMIES 71 
 
 raised my head, but it was only for a moment, like 
 the afterglow upon the mountain tops after sun- 
 set. Then the shadow again swept over her face, 
 and I even saw in her eyes two water drops that 
 glistened and disappeared Mrithout falling. She had 
 understood, and after her and by her I understood, 
 too. The mysterious Court had decided against us. 
 The lawsuit, the terrible lawsuit, was lost. 
 
 We were all in consternation without knowing pre- 
 cisely why; we had felt the wind of defeat pass 
 over us. 
 
 Still, our father manifested no trouble, no sad- 
 ness, and grandfather after his gruyere was dip- 
 ping his biscuit in his wine, as he particularly 
 liked to do because of his teeth, which were bad. He 
 seemed to have paid no attention to the affair of 
 the telegram. The nerve of the one amazed me as 
 much as the aloofness of the other. By different 
 ways they had reached the same calmness. As for 
 Aunt Deen, she was biting viciously into a peach 
 which was unripe and crackled. 
 
 We left the table and went into the garden into 
 which darkness was stealthily creeping. I tried to 
 linger behind, but was drawn along by my sister 
 Melanie ; she divined that our parents wished to talk 
 by themselves. 
 
 I could find no pleasure in any play, and I was 
 soon flocking by myself, my imagination revelling 
 over the approaching ruin. " They " were driving 
 us from our house as the angel drove Adam and Eve 
 
72 THE HOUSE 
 
 out of Eden. " They " were coming into our house 
 as into a mill. " They " were dividing our treasures 
 among themselves .as the Greets divided the spoils 
 of the Trojans. "They.?" Who? Aunt Deen's 
 " they " ; I knew no more than that. And in this 
 catastrophe one remark kept coming back to me, in- 
 comprehensible, terrifying, and yet not to be put 
 away: What's the difference whether one lives in 
 one house or in another? 
 
 These words of my grandfather, revolting and at 
 the same time stupefying, almost mesmerized me by 
 their audacity, almost made me giddy. How could 
 one consent to abandon his house without defending 
 it to his utmost ability? In my heart I cried to 
 arms. By way of acting out what was going on 
 within me, I seized one of Tem Bossette's swords, be- 
 strode my favourite pole, and notwithstanding the 
 rapid approach of darkness, extinguishing the last 
 rays of twilight, of which I was greatly in dread, 
 I rushed at a gallop to the very top of the garden, 
 to the chestnut grove, to the breach in the wall. The 
 shadow of night had already entered by it, and after 
 it all the shadows. They were creeping along, climb- 
 ing the trees, swarming over the paths, filling the 
 clumps of trees. There wa^ a whole army of them. 
 They were the mole-crickets, giant mole-crickets, the 
 enemies of the house. With all my might I tried 
 to scatter them to right and left with great sword 
 thrusts. But I met nothing, and that was the worst 
 
THE ENEMIES 73 
 
 of it. Then, in desperation, I took to my heels. I 
 was conquered. 
 
 It was a comfort to hear a voice coming my way, 
 my mother's voice calling, 
 
 " Fran9ois, Fran9ois ! " 
 
 That call saved my honour; my hasty return 
 ceased to be a flight. 
 
 My bedroom, the vast proportions of which dis- 
 tressed me, but which happily I shared with Bernard 
 and Stephen, was near our mother's chamber. It 
 was long before I could sleep. Beneath the door of 
 communication I could perceive a streak of light. 
 The lamp must have burned very late and I could 
 hear the alternating sound of two carefully subdued 
 voices, — my father's and my mother's voices. With 
 all calmness the destiny of the family was being dis- 
 cussed close beside me. 
 
IV 
 
 THE TEEATT 
 
 When one is a child one imagines that events are 
 going to rush one upon another like the two opposite 
 camps of a game of prison-bars. The next morn- 
 ing I expected something extraordinary to happen, 
 the first result of which would be a holiday from 
 school. Surely no one would work when the house 
 was threatened! I was astonished on being called 
 at the usual hour, when I was settling myself to make 
 up my lost sleep, and sent to school just as usual. 
 Stephen, always absent minded and absorbed in his 
 prayers, had noticed nothing. But Bernard, the 
 eldest, appeared to me to lack his usual high spirits ; 
 no doubt he considered me too young to share his 
 dejection. None of us exchanged any confidences 
 on the way to school. 
 
 This silence was the beginning of forgetting. I 
 soon recovered from the alarm of the preceding even- 
 ing, and very soon, as we continued to live in the 
 house, I concluded that our enemies had beat an un- 
 expected retreat. 
 
 " They wouldn't dare," Aunt Deen had declared. 
 
 Nevertheless, a few days later, happening to be 
 
 in mother's room, she received a visit from her dress- 
 
 74 
 
THE TREATY 75 
 
 maker, a maiden of a certain age with mahogany col- 
 oured hair, such as I have never seen on any other 
 head. Mother excused herself for having summoned 
 her for so small a matter, simply a making-over, and 
 not a new gown. 
 
 "When one has seven children," she added pret- 
 tily, " one must be reasonable. And besides I am 
 no longer very young." 
 
 " Madame is always young and beautiful," pro- 
 tested the artist. 
 
 From my corner I considered this protest mis- 
 placed. Neither- the age nor the face of my mother 
 belonged to this lady of the mahogany hair, but well 
 and duly to me and my brothers and sisters. 
 Whether she was pretty or ugly, young or old, con- 
 cerned us alone. 
 
 " So," concluded my mother, " here is a gown 
 which you can easily alter a little. You are so 
 clever." 
 
 " Madame has worn it a good deal already." 
 
 " Precisely, I am attached to it." 
 
 This time I thought the dressmaker was right, in 
 putting on a disdainful air as she accepted the work 
 so unworthy of her. Without question the gown in 
 question had been often worn. 
 
 At the moment I saw no connection between this 
 episode and our domestic drama. My mother would 
 always be beautiful enough, and clothes could make 
 no difference. Family discussions, however, usually 
 took place in the octagon parlour, which could only 
 
76 THE HOUSE 
 
 be entered by passing through our bedroom. It was 
 quite isolated, and one could be sure of not being 
 interrupted. We hardly ever went there except for 
 our music lessons, since the cupboard chapel had 
 been put out of commission. 
 
 It was there that I had lost my faith in the Christ- 
 mas miracle. It is true that grandfather's dry 
 laugh, whenever the descent of the little Jesus was 
 anticipated, had prepared me for incredulity. The 
 morning of the festival day desired and expected 
 by all children, we used to find in this room a pine 
 tree, its branches bent down under the weight of 
 toys, and lighted up by blue and pink candles. At 
 the foot of the tree a wax baby would be lying upon 
 straw, holding out to us his little arms. The ox 
 and the ass were there, too, but the child was larger 
 than they. Their smaller proportions simply put 
 them in their proper place of subordination. With- 
 out seeking to penetrate the mystery I always sup- 
 posed that the tree grew there of itself during the 
 night, with all the strange fruits, which were quite 
 enough to distract my curiosity. But on the night 
 of December 24, lying awake from curiosity, I saw 
 my father and mother pass through the room, walk- 
 ing on tiptoe, only in old houses there are always 
 planks that cry out and betray the presence of peo- 
 ple. It even happens that they cry out when no 
 one is there, as if they were supporting invisible per- 
 sons, the steps of all those who had trodden upon 
 them while living. My parents were laden with all 
 
THE TREATY 77 
 
 sorts of packages. From that time I understood 
 their collaboration with the little Jesus. 
 
 Now, I again believe in the miracle, though like 
 Jesus himself it descended from heaven upon the 
 earth. It was a miracle of love. 
 
 How did our father and mother manage to realise 
 at one time all the dreams of our excited imagina- 
 tions and distribute to each one the paradisaical 
 things that he longed for? How, above all, did they 
 manage to diminish nothing from the divine gener- 
 osity which they represented during the sorrowful 
 times that we were soon to know? My wonder never 
 ceases when I see, on Christmas day, in the quarters 
 where the poor live, children running about with their 
 hands full of gifts. They are only cheap little toys, 
 but they bear in themselves the virtue of a mira- 
 cle. . . . 
 
 Of the secret consultations in the music room, not- 
 withstanding its remarkable acoustic properties, I 
 could hear nothing. Neither of the two spoke above 
 a low murmur: they were always of one mind. Yet 
 I divined that they were talking of the lawsuit. 
 Something serious was lurking in the darkness. 
 Preparations were being made to repel the enemy. 
 And I wondered why the enemy did not make his ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 One morning ■ — it was a Thursday — as we came 
 home for the midday breakfast, my brothers and I, 
 what was our stupefaction, our horror, on perceiv- 
 ing on one of the stone columns into which the en- 
 
78 THE HOUSE 
 
 trance gates were set, an enormous bill, which bore 
 the outrageous inscription: 
 
 Villa foe Sale 
 
 We looked at one another, all alike indignant. 
 
 " It's an insult ! " exclaimed Bernard, who already 
 had a sense of military honour. 
 
 " No, it's a mistake," affirmed Stephen, with un- 
 bounded amazement. 
 
 Absent-minded and unobservant, he had not for 
 one moment reflected upon the trifling incidents 
 which Bernard and I had been observing, and which, 
 inspiring us with a holy horror, had prepared us for 
 this catastrophe. 
 
 We should not have felt more overcome with shame 
 if we had all three been slapped in the face. Ber- 
 nard, the boldest of us, tried to tear down the bill, 
 but it was glued fast and resisted the attempt. Like 
 a reinforcing army we rushed into the besieged house, 
 which I expected to find full of mole-crickets. The 
 first person we met was Aunt Deen, gesticulating 
 and talking to herself. We had hardly opened our 
 lips when she perceived our agitation and at once 
 her fury put ours into the shade. 
 
 " Yes, they want to rob us of everything ! They 
 propose to take possession of our property. I 
 would rather have died than live to see this." 
 
 On her lips the word property took on a solemn 
 grandeur. Then they had passed through the 
 
THE TREATY 79 
 
 breach; they were advancing upon us in serried 
 ranks. Beyond this assurance it was needless to ex- 
 pect anything more intelligible from Aunt Deen. 
 
 We turned for further explanation to grandfather, 
 coming in from his walk. He waved us off with a 
 gesture of superb indifference; he seemed to us to 
 be soaring in a region far above our agitations. Had 
 he not declared that it was all one to him whether 
 he lived in one house or another? He had been out 
 for a walk on this fine July morning, when the whole 
 sunny country-side seemed swimming in light; he 
 looked healthy, radiant; why should he permit us to 
 spoil his pleasure by inopportune remarks? On the 
 contrary he proposed to share some of his pleasure 
 with us. 
 
 " I love this good summer sun," he said. " And 
 no one can rob us of it." 
 
 His remark was not calculated to quiet our alarm. 
 Its singularity struck me: in such a moment as this, 
 when all our combative energies were not enough to 
 resist the danger that hung over us, he would draw 
 our attention to a simple source of happiness which 
 had no lawful owner and was beyond attack. When 
 one is a child one never thinks that the sun is some- 
 thing he may enjoy. 
 
 Mother was clasping my two elder sisters in her 
 arms, trying to console them and not succeeding, for 
 she shared their sorrow. At her feet the two little 
 ones, Nicola and Jamie, were lamenting themselves 
 indiscriminately. Imagine the effect upon us of this 
 
80 THE HOUSE 
 
 weeping group! Even Louise, the laughing Louise, 
 was abandoning herself to tears. 
 
 "Here comes your father," suddenly exclaimed 
 mamma. " Stop crying, I beg of you. He has 
 trouble enough already." 
 
 She had been the first to hear his step. The effect 
 of her words was instantaneous. We all controlled 
 ourselves as quickly as we could, and went down to 
 the dining-room with faces in good order. 
 
 At table The Father began to be absorbed in his 
 thoughts, the course of which we followed. We used 
 to call him tJie father among ourselves, as we used 
 to say the house. Did he see the anxiety in all those 
 faces turned toward him? Did he read in our eyes 
 the dishonouring inscription. Villa for sale? He 
 looked us full in the face one by one and his frank 
 smile reassured us. Come! He still had his air as 
 of the chief who commands. We had the feeling that 
 he could not consent to such a downfall. Peace and 
 appetite returned to us at the same time, and seldom 
 was luncheon more gay than this one. We enjoyed 
 the relief to our strained nerves, under the shelter of 
 that protecting strength. 
 
 After the meal, while my brothers, whose studies 
 were already of importance, completed a task, I ran 
 into the garden; the afternoon was mine. The fig- 
 ure of Tem Bossette emerged from the vines. I went 
 to him. He was tying the too luxuriant branches 
 to poles with bands of straw, but he asked nothing 
 better than to interrupt his work which, to judge 
 
THE TREATY 81 
 
 by the number of branches already tied, was not 
 making much headway. An empty bottle at his feet 
 bore witness to the obstinate struggle against the 
 heat which he had maintained. 
 
 He evidently saw my approach with satisfaction. 
 I could hear from a distance his hoarse voice mut- 
 tering to himself like Aunt Deen. At a later time 
 I understood better the secret reason of his indigna- 
 tion. He was acknowledging to himself, not being 
 as stupid as Mimi Pachoux, his rival, insisted, that 
 his whims and his drink habits would make him of no 
 use anywhere else ; his destiny was closely allied with 
 the destiny of the house. So he lost none of his rage 
 and did not cease to lift up his head, his great pump- 
 kin shaped head, against the reigning king, whose 
 idleness, whose home and foreign politics and above 
 all, whose financial condition he never ceased to de- 
 plore. As soon as I was near enough to hear him, 
 he put into words the griefs which were obscurely 
 struggling within him: 
 
 " You have read the bill, Master Francis ? " 
 
 " To be sure I have read it." 
 
 And I added, bitter with family pride, 
 
 "What is that to you?" 
 
 The question suffocated him. His eyes started 
 from his head. "To me? To me?" he exclaimed, 
 foaming at the mouth with fury. 
 
 The ancient habit of respect recalled him to him- 
 self, and in a lamentable tone he began to set forth 
 his own claim to a part in the family sorrows. 
 
82 THE HOUSE 
 
 " I have chopped wood here for forty years (he 
 exaggerated everything). It was I who planted 
 these vines and this garden." 
 
 As a matter of fact there was not much to be proud 
 of in that. Our garden sometimes looked like a field 
 and sometimes like a forest, and the prematurely 
 yellowed leaves of the vines revealed a chlorotic con- 
 dition which would doubtless have been the better 
 for a vigorous medication. But grandfather and his 
 gardener were of one mind in distrusting medicines, 
 as well for plants as for people. 
 
 "Where should I go if I left you.-" " Tem contin- 
 ued frankly. " I might as well throw myself into 
 the water and done with it." 
 
 It would have been his only opportunity to take 
 a good drink of it. Would it then be necessary 
 henceforth to watch him, too.'' — as if we hadn't 
 enough with the tiresome propensity of The Hanged? 
 I confess, however, that I did not take this threat 
 very seriously. I had indeed no difficulty in con- 
 vincing Tem of the advantage of continuing to live. 
 Then his lamentation took another turn. 
 
 "What need had Monsieur (that was grand- 
 father) to plunge into aU those schemes? Paving 
 the town, and dealing in slates, and agricultural 
 credit. Agricultural credit ! As if any one ever paid 
 when you gave them credit. What would be the use 
 of credit, then, if you had to pay in the end like any 
 one else? Not to speak of other bad luck here and 
 
THE TREATY 83 
 
 there, when all he needs is the sun and the fresh air. 
 Won't do to undertake to manage things when the 
 third or the quarter is all the same to one. The 
 thing is to keep quiet in a comer with one's income 
 and let other folks work for you. If it were Mon- 
 sieur Michel, that's another pair of sleeves ; Monsieur 
 Michel, that's all right, he's one who understands gov- 
 erning things. With him there's nothing to fear, 
 everything goes as if on wheels. But what's to be 
 done when the other won't see it.'' " 
 
 I began confusedly to understand that grand- 
 father's philanthropic enterprises and the unfortu- 
 nate results of his administration were ending in the 
 ruin of us all. Tem's long harangue, uttered with- 
 out interruption, had at once comforted him and 
 made him thirsty. He gazed upon the empty bottle 
 that lay at the foot of a vine and constituted his sole 
 supply for the day. Taking advantage of the re- 
 spite, I tried to understand more about our discom- 
 fiture. 
 
 " But why should the house be sold? " 
 
 " Why, it's the lawsuit. When you lose a lawsuit 
 they seize you, they arrest you, they strangle you, 
 they turn you out of doors, they take possession of 
 your house, and you are good for nothing but to 
 throw to the dogs." 
 
 This deplorable picture was not calculated to re- 
 assure me. And far from being sorry for us, Tem, 
 perceiving my grandfather who was maj esticaUy com- 
 
84 THE HOUSE 
 
 ing down the garden walk, cheerful, erect, flourish- 
 ing his cane, grew doubly irritated with him, as the 
 cause of all the trouble. 
 
 " All right — all right ! When one has got him- 
 self into a mess he is prosecuted, arrested, con- 
 demned. No good to embrace every one Hke a 
 brother when one has good land to look after. One 
 has bother enough with the land — there are plenty 
 of folk to prowl about it. Just look at him! He 
 doesn't even see us — it's aU the same to him — 
 everything's all the same to him." 
 
 As a general thing Tem had no desire to be ob- 
 served. Now he was making a great racket to at- 
 tract attention and not succeeding. This failure 
 completed his disgust — his failure combined, I 
 think, with the prospect of finishing the afternoon 
 without a drink. He deliberately laid down the 
 straw of which he made his ligatures, and deserting 
 his post he abandoned me into the bargain. 
 
 " I won't see it ! I won't see it ! " he exclaimed as 
 he went, irritated and discouraged. 
 
 See what.'' The invasion of the mole-crickets? 
 Neither did I want to see it. 
 
 I followed the deserter as far as the gate, where 
 I read the biU three or four times over the better to 
 understand the extent of our disaster, and then came 
 slowly back. What could I do now? My horses — 
 the poles — my wooden sword, my plays, were no 
 longer anything to me. For the first time in my life, 
 perhaps, I let my arms hang useless by my sides. By 
 
THE TREATY 85 
 
 this feeling of the vanity of all things I was being 
 bom into grief. I was learning to separate myself 
 from things. Since that moment I have always felt 
 the pang of separation as soon as I see it coming 
 and long before it actually reaches me. 
 
 I went back to the garden and threw myself down 
 in the long grass which Tem had neglected to mow, 
 and there I lay, face downward, I know not how 
 long. All the garden enveloped me in perfume, and 
 I breathed the garden. The house, from its open 
 windows, looked at me across the grass, and I wept 
 for the house. The strength of my love for the house 
 had been as unknown to me as my own heart. 
 
 It was a warm, still summer afternoon, full of the 
 hum of insects in the sunshine. Little by little I felt 
 myself drowned in a soft sweetness, as a fly is 
 drowned in honey. And little by little I became 
 happy in spite of my pain. Later I came to know 
 that debasing consolation that comes to us from the 
 beauty of the day, when death has passed that way. 
 
 I fell asleep at last, like a baby in its tears. When 
 I awoke evening had come into the garden, noise- 
 lessly, and was hiding under the trees. I got up and 
 ran to seek it in the chestnut grove. The dinner 
 bell rang and I turned back. A quantity of things 
 that I had never noticed before impressed themselves 
 upon my mind: the tone of the bell, the rosy tint 
 of the sky between the branches, the long sprays of 
 clematis drooping from the balcony, the lack of sym- 
 metry in the windows, and even the creaking of the 
 
86 THE HOUSE 
 
 door as I pushed it open, though it must always have 
 creaked just so. With fierce ardour I was discov- 
 ering all that I was about to lose. 
 
 We could never get used to seeing without indigna- 
 tion, on returning from school, the ill-omened bill 
 that dishonoured the entrance. Tem Bbssette had 
 not returned; we learned that he was drinking him- 
 self drunk in all the wine-shops. Mimi Pachoux was 
 working elsewhere; the ship v.as leaking at every 
 joint and the crew was escaping. Only the long, 
 woe-begone face of The Hanged occasionally showed 
 itself here and there like a sign of distress, or an 
 abhorrent symbol of the evil fate which was pur- 
 suing us. 
 
 " He is faithful," Aunt Deen would say, overshad- 
 owing him with her protection and aiding him in his 
 work. 
 
 More faithful than he, and keeping vigilant guard 
 over the menaced home, she met us at the gate one 
 day in an unusual state of agitation. 
 
 " I was watching for you, children," she said, " to 
 warn you." 
 
 What was going on now.'' We were not kept long 
 in ignorance. 
 
 "A wretch has come, a wretch from Paris (that 
 was an aggravating circumstance, for nothing good 
 could come out of that notorious Babylon, corrupt 
 as it was and fit only for the flames), who has taken 
 upon himself to go through every part of the house, 
 
THE TREATY 87 
 
 from cellar to garret. Your father is going with 
 him. I can't imagine how he can keep from throw- 
 ing him out of window. He must have a patience 
 quite beyond me ! " 
 
 We were thunderstruck. A stranger dared to 
 come into our house ! And our father, — The 
 Father — consented to escort him through it ! Aunt 
 Deen might well be terrified : the laws of the universe 
 were turned upside down. As we followed her de- 
 jectedly into the house, with hanging heads and 
 shame-flushed cheeks, we came upon this visitor de- 
 scending the stairs on his way to the kitchen. He 
 was loudly criticising, laying his plans, estimating 
 the size of the rooms, with manifold gesticulations, 
 as if already building a house of his own on the ruins 
 of ours. 
 
 " The stairs are too narrow. The kitchen is out 
 of proportion to the other rooms ; I shall convert 
 it into a drawing-room." 
 
 My father was showing him about politely, though 
 without alacrity, preserving a calm and distant man- 
 ner that checked the loquacity of the other when 
 he turned to him, the better to set forth his plans. 
 We went straight up to mother's room as to our nat- 
 ural refuge. Our mother, who was kneeling at her 
 faldstool, rose when she heard us coming. Her emo- 
 tion appeared in her face. 
 
 " God will protect us," she said. 
 
 When she uttered the name of God she was, as it 
 were, illumined. At that moment I understood what 
 
88 THE HOUSE 
 
 it is to hate the foreigner — the invader. My 
 father's subordination, my mother's tears, and our 
 house trodden, judged, appraised, by a stranger — 
 those are sights that I can never forget. Later, 
 when I read in my History of France that the Allies 
 had crossed the frontiers in 1814! and 1815, and 
 had come and encamped in our capital, when I learned 
 that the Prussians had torn Alsace and Lorraine 
 from us, like a part of our very flesh, I had no dif- 
 ficulty in giving material form to those past woes; 
 I could most distinctly see that gentleman who went 
 from top to bottom of our house as if he were at 
 home. 
 
 " Why did you bow to him? " Aimt Deen asked 
 grandfather, who came in with his usual deliberate 
 indifference. 
 
 " I am polite to every one." 
 
 " One doesn't compound with the enemy." 
 
 How could our father, who was not generally con- 
 sidered easy-going, have endured this outrage with- 
 out faltering? He was in charge of our safety, and 
 the exercise of power imposes obligations which ir- 
 responsible folk are apt to neglect. His good hu- 
 mour amazed us also on another occasion. One day 
 at table he suddenly said to mamma: 
 
 " Do you know what news is going about the 
 town?" 
 
 " I have seen no one." 
 
 " They say we are leaving town ; the house being 
 
THE TREATY 89 
 
 sold, we shall disappear. Our pride would never en- 
 dure a less conspicuous establishment. And who do 
 you suppose has spread the report? I give you a 
 thousand guesses. But no, you have too much faith 
 in human goodness. It is my beloved colleagues. 
 They have discovered a practical method of sharing 
 my practice among them. One after another my pa- 
 tients ask, ' Is it true that you are going away ? 
 Stay with us ! What will become of us ? ' It is very 
 touching. But I have reassured them." 
 
 He laughed, — the hearty laugh of a man accus- 
 tomed to the fray. We were too young to perceive 
 all the contempt and force that resounded in this 
 victorious laugh, which in our indignation almost 
 scandalised us. Especially Bernard and Louise, 
 hasty and impressionable, protested vehemently 
 against the odious implication, though indeed their 
 opinion had not been asked. Our mother, even she, 
 had blushed for the harm that had been devised 
 against us, and which she herself would never have 
 imagined. As for Aunt Deen, she doubled her fist at 
 the enemy — " they " indeed had at last been discov- 
 ered: 
 
 " Oh, the monsters ! I'm not a bit surprised. It 
 would be no more than they deserve if they were com- 
 pelled to swallow all their own medicines." 
 
 Her aspiration moved grandfather to hilarity. 
 Till then he had been passive, but he was too much 
 the enemy of doctors not to relish his sister's pre- 
 scription for vengeance. 
 
90 THE HOUSE 
 
 It was she who, a few days later, told us of our 
 deliverance. She had placed herself outside of the 
 gate, like an advanced sentinel, and made to us from 
 afar unintelligible signs, which as we drew near we 
 interpreted unfavourably. Assuredly the invader 
 had taken possession of the fortress. The house was 
 sold. We had no longer a roof to shelter us. As 
 Tern had prophesied, we were good for nothing but 
 to be thrown to the dogs. 
 
 When we were within hearing distance she hailed 
 us: 
 
 " Come quick, come quick ! The house is ours ! 
 The house is ours ! " 
 
 We rushed wildly forward. 
 
 " The bill isn't there," cried Bernard, who was 
 ahead. 
 
 Only the marks of nails remained upon the pillar. 
 
 " Aha ! " continued Aunt Deen's voice, bursting 
 out in a triumphant cadence. " They thought they 
 had it! But they won't get it ! " 
 
 They were no longer the doctors, but the gentle- 
 man from Paris and other purchasers, who had ap- 
 peared while we were in school. With uplifted arm 
 she sketched the flight of the dispersed troop. 
 
 With a step that was rapid in spite of her years 
 she led us to the music room where the family was 
 assembled, with the exception of grandfather, who 
 no doubt had made no change in his hour of walk- 
 ing, and who was probably ignorant of our salva- 
 tion. Mariette followed us at a respectful distance. 
 
THE TREATY 91 
 
 Her long service gave her the right to a place in the 
 procession. 
 
 Our mother, deeply moved, was caressing the hair 
 of my two elder sisters, whom joy, like grief, had 
 moved to tears. But I attached no importance to 
 the tears of my sisters, which used to flow for nothing 
 at all. My father standing, his hand upon the back 
 of my mother's chair, was smiling. I had never seen 
 his face so radiant, and through the window, behind 
 the group, the sun was coming in like a distinguished 
 guest. 
 
 " The bill isn't there," repeated Bernard without 
 the usual greeting. 
 
 " Yes," said our father ; " we shall keep the house." 
 
 And as our enthusiasm was about to burst forth, 
 he added, 
 
 "You owe it to your mother and also to your 
 Aunt Bernardine." 
 
 The latter, whose parchment cheeks would crim- 
 son for no reason but that some one spoke of her, 
 while she kept neither her thoughts nor her prop- 
 erty for herself, and daily robbed herself as a mat- 
 ter of course, stoutly refused all praise. 
 
 " How you talk, Michel ! For nothing but a sig- 
 nature! You mustn't mislead these children." 
 
 Mother at once approved: 
 
 " She is right ; it is your father who has saved 
 us all." 
 
 And lowering her voice she turned to him, mur- 
 muring — but I heard her: 
 
92 THE HOUSE 
 
 " Is not all that I have, yours? " 
 
 I paid little heed, I acknowledge, to this debate. 
 Of course the saving of the house was due solely to 
 our father. How could our mother and Aunt Deen 
 have helped? It had been necessary to throw out 
 the gentleman from Paris and the other invaders, 
 as Ulysses on his return to Ithaca had thrown out 
 the lovers. That was an exercise of strength which 
 belonged only to a man. My notions of life were 
 simple: the man governed, the woman's sole charge 
 was of domestic matters. That Aunt Deen had her 
 rights, however diminished, in the building that 
 " they " were trying to get away from us I could 
 never have understood, any more than I could un- 
 derstand what a dowry was, and how the consent of 
 the wife was necessary to enable the husband to dis- 
 pose of property. 
 
 Nevertheless I recalled the incident of the dress- 
 maker. Mother had no doubt made some savings 
 in the matter of clothes and turned them in. Does 
 not every one make his contribution to the wars? I 
 immediately slipped out of the room and came back 
 bringing the savings bank in which I had been en- 
 couraged to drop such little sous as I received. I 
 expected an ovation for the magnanimity of my sac- 
 rifice. Without a word I handed it to my father. 
 
 "What do you want me to do with it?" was all 
 his response. 
 
 Somewhat abashed, being gazed upon by all pres- 
 ent, I said, blushing furiously: 
 
THE TREATY 93 
 
 " It is for the house." 
 
 This time my father drew me to him and publicly 
 gave me the accolade with the dazzling Order of the 
 Day. 
 
 " This child will be our joy." 
 
 Thus the Emperor rew'arded his marshals on the 
 field of battle ; nothing in history is surprising to one 
 who has had a childhood like mine. 
 
 Coming in while the bell was ringing, grandfather 
 was the last one to learn what had happened. Aunt 
 Deen informed him in a fiery harangue. He heard 
 her with interest but without emotion, his serenity 
 all undisturbed. And when the heroic story was fin- 
 ished he nodded his head, vouchsafing merely the 
 words of faint admiration: 
 
 " Well, well ! so much the better ! " 
 
 Things had been arranged with no help from him. 
 
IV. 
 
 THE Abdication 
 
 In the days that followed I came to understand 
 by all sorts of small tokens, not to speak of the re- 
 marks of servants, that the house no longer belonged 
 to grandfather, but to my parents, and that only a 
 simple formality remained to be accomplished for the 
 treaty to be final. Grandfather no longer having the 
 responsibility — though in truth the responsibil- 
 ity had never weighed heavily upon him — had no 
 desire to keep the honours of headship. More than 
 once I heard father speaking to him to the following 
 effect : 
 
 " I do not want anything to be changed — I want 
 everything to be as it has always been — I want to 
 take from you nothing but your cares." 
 
 "Oho!" grandfather would reply with his little 
 laugh, " you are lucky if you know just what you 
 want." 
 
 And he would run his fingers carelessly through 
 his beard, as if nothing were worth any trouble. 
 Still, a plan weis simmering in his mind, of which we 
 were speedily advised. When once he had hold of 
 an idea nothing, neither entreaties nor protests, 
 
 94 
 
THE ABDICATION 95 
 
 would induce him to let it go. Aunt Deen's tumul- 
 tuous reproaches, father's brief, clear-cut, unanswer- 
 able arguments, mother's entreaties, — he received 
 them all with equal tranquillity of temper and heeded 
 none of them. From his amiable and detached air 
 one would have deemed him easily amenable to per- 
 suasion, if it had not been for his wicked little laugh 
 which upset everything. 
 
 One fine morning we were all informed of his deci- 
 sion to give up the room with two windows which he 
 occupied in the very heart of the house, which was 
 vast, comfortable and easy to keep warm, and to take 
 possession of what? — no one could have guessed — 
 the tower chamber! This room had long been un- 
 occupied, and all the winds of heaven blew through 
 it. No sooner had he made known his intention than 
 the entire household, after fruitless attempts to make 
 him abandon his purpose, must needs bend every 
 nerve to help him move without delay. Without 
 waiting for any of us he was already leading the way 
 to the staircase laden with the most precious of his 
 possessions. 
 
 " Wait at least until we sweep, clean and dust," 
 urged Aunt Deen, armed with the wolf's head. 
 
 " It's not worth while," he assured her. " One can 
 live very comfortably with spiders and dust." 
 
 This scandal at least was avoided. Aunt Deen was 
 ahead of him, and he was obliged to have a few min- 
 utes' patience, little as he liked it; after which he 
 resolutely laid hold of the bannister, bearing his 
 
96 THE HOUSE 
 
 barometer, violin case and pipes. Down he came 
 again for his spy-glass. The rest of the removal 
 did not interest him at all. His clothes, linen and 
 furniture might follow him or not, as it happened. 
 He showed his confidence in me by requesting me to 
 carry a treatise on astronomy, a volume about cryp- 
 tograms, the coloured illustrations of which I already 
 knew, showing the principal species of mushrooms, 
 and another work which from its title I believed to 
 be a book of devotion: the " Confessions of Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau " — I had almost forgotten the 
 " Prophecies of Michel Nostradamus," and a col- 
 lection of the " True Limping Messenger of Berne 
 and Vevey," an almanac famous and precious from 
 every point of view, but chiefly for its meteorolog- 
 ical bulletins. For grandfather was greatly inter- 
 ested in the condition of the atmosphere. He would 
 snuff it up, so to speak, from his window morning and 
 night, at whatever risk of taking cold; and he was 
 always observing the movements of the clouds and the 
 shining of the stars. He loved to cite the authority 
 of a certain Mathew de la Drome, with whom he was 
 in correspondence, and whom we children had come 
 to believe to be a sorcerer or a mender of weather. 
 He himself used to make forecasts — and if you 
 wanted to flatter him, you would ask him to predict 
 the weather. He was seldom mistaken, whether it 
 was that luck was on his side or that he really had 
 rightly interpreted the direction of the winds. This 
 trivial reputation, which he enjoyed, seemed to make 
 
THE ABDICATION 97 
 
 him one with the mysterious laws of nature, whose 
 oracles he uttered. 
 
 As soon as he had moved his books and instruments 
 thither he found himself at home in the tower cham- 
 ber and declared himself pleased with it. It had a 
 view of the sky and at the same time of aU four 
 quarters of the horizon ; and would capture the slight- 
 est ray of the sun, from whatsoever direction it might 
 come. As for the direction of the wind, that would 
 be easily ascertained. 
 
 A great clatter informed him that his furniture 
 was following him upstairs. Aunt Deen was pre- 
 siding over the removal in person, not without mut- 
 terings and grumblings. With the bedside steps un- 
 der one arm, a bolster under the other, and a candle- 
 stick in each hand, she preceded, with stimulating 
 remarks, a squad which followed in Indian file, but 
 without much team work in their manoeuvres. Tem 
 Bossette came first with an easy chair on his head 
 (he had consented to a reconciliation, sealed by a 
 bottle of red wine). Then appeared a wardrobe os- 
 cillating on four legs, which on reaching the top of 
 the stairs were revealed as half belonging to The 
 Hanged and half (the smaller half) to Mimi Pachoux, 
 whom also victory had recalled to the fold. 
 
 " Upon my word," said Aunt Deen to her brother 
 during the defiling of her troops, " I'd like to know 
 why you couldn't stay downstairs! Hoisting all 
 your things up this narrow staircase ! " 
 
 And as grandfather indifferently acknowledged her 
 
98 THE HOUSE 
 
 remark merely by a vague gesture she resorted next 
 to sarcasm: 
 
 " Of course, that doesn't distress Monsieur ! Mon- 
 sieur would never put himself out for a trifle like 
 that! Comfortably seated in the easy chair that 
 poor Tem has drenched with sweat, Monsieur will ob- 
 serve the progress of events ! And meanwhile, I shall 
 have to come up and down a hundred times a day. 
 And the maids likewise. But you don't care what 
 trouble you make us: you'U always find everything 
 you need ready at your hand." 
 
 The attack was direct and severe. Before reply- 
 ing grandfather cast a startled glance upon the seat 
 which Tem had transported, fearful of the reported 
 deluge. When he perceived it to be dry and intact 
 he recovered his serenity and replied with the utmost 
 calmness : 
 
 " I ask nothing of any one." 
 
 " Because you never lack for anything ; you live 
 like a pig in clover." 
 
 They were both right. Grandfather never made 
 any demands, but every one was eager to anticipate 
 his slightest wish. Thus he uttered no complaint 
 against the piercing winds that besieged his tower; 
 but the day after his removal aU the chinks around 
 the doors and windows were carefully stopped up. 
 
 Aunt Deen's dissatisfaction had given voice to the 
 general opinion. This unexpected exodus, utterly 
 without necessity, cast a shadow over our father and 
 mother, who vainly sought for Its reason. 
 
THE ABDICATION 99 
 
 "Why must you be up so high? " 
 " Altitude has always agreed with me." 
 I admit that on this occasion I sided with grand- 
 father. The tower chamber with its four views, its 
 isolation, its special odour (it had never been opened 
 except when some one went for apples, which used 
 to ripen there all winter long) had long had an ir- 
 resistible attraction for me. Since it was henceforth 
 to be inhabited I promised myself to visit it fre- 
 quently. 
 
 This episode was soon put into the shade by an- 
 other, much more important and of a character to 
 make a much deeper impression upon my imagina- 
 tion. Coming home from school one morning, I 
 learned from my usual source of information. Aunt 
 Deen, that this time it was settled. She imparted 
 this news with an air of great mystery, but mystery 
 itself with her was noisy in its manifestation. The 
 word settled assumed upon her lips a formidable im- 
 portance. What was settled? 
 
 " The deed is signed. Just now, I am very 
 glad." 
 
 What deed? I didn't understand a word of it all. 
 
 " Well, we are to remain in our house. They can 
 never trouble us again," 
 
 Didn't I already know that they had been utterly 
 routed, dispersed, chastised, overcome, beaten, re- 
 duced to nothingness, like the Persians in my an- 
 cient history whom a handful of Greeks bad chased 
 
100 THE HOUSE 
 
 into the sea? How should she think to surprise me 
 by telling me a secret already several days old, per- 
 haps several weeks old, and about which every one 
 had been talking freely? A child does not enter the 
 region of preparations, delays, formalities and judi- 
 cial scribblings. But a capital event shortly illus- 
 trated Aunt Deen's declaration. 
 
 Grandfather returned earlier than usual from his 
 walk, and as one of us remarked upon his abnormal 
 punctuality he took himself off without a word. 
 When, after the second bell, we entered the dining- 
 room with empty stomachs and ravenous appetites, 
 what was our surprise to find him already there, sit- 
 ting at table, but not in his official place, the place 
 of honour in the centre opposite our mother, as 
 is fitting for the head of the family, the reigning 
 king. Without confiding his intention to any one, 
 he had changed the napkin rings and had taken his 
 place at the end of the table, opposite the window. 
 It is true that he had chosen a very good place 
 whence he could see the trees in the garden and even 
 a bit of sky between their branches. To a lover of 
 sunshine the view was not unimportant. But all the 
 same it was a revolution in the family life and the 
 entire domestic economy. Or rather, I was not mis- 
 taken, it was an abdication. 
 
 I was well up in abdications. Had I not been 
 obliged to study in my history book those of the 
 sluggard kings, whose hair they cut off before im- 
 muring them in a cloister? — and in spite of myself 
 
THE ABDICATION 101 
 
 I gazed at grandfather's slightly curling white 
 hair. Above all I had heard my brother Bernard 
 reciting the story of Charles V, by which I had been 
 strongly impressed. That master of the world, lay- 
 ing aside his grandeur, had retired to a monastery 
 of Estramadura, where he mended clocks, and to give 
 himself a foretaste of death had had his funeral cele- 
 brated while he was still alive. Historians that dote 
 upon truth have since then assured me that these 
 details are fabulous. I am sorry, for I have not for- 
 gotten them, whereas an innumerable number of dem- 
 onstrated facts have dropped out of my memory. 
 But at that time I believed with iron conviction in 
 the retirement of Charles V, the false obsequies 
 and the clocks. Grandfather also knew how to mend 
 clocks, and I at once established relations between the 
 two sovereigns. 
 
 Aunt Deen, punctual for once, and our mother, 
 who was not far behind us, shared our astonishment. 
 Then all eyes were fixed upon our father, who was 
 just then entering the room. At a glance he took 
 in the situation, and with him decision was never slow 
 to foUow. He came forward with rapid steps. 
 
 " No, no," he said, " I will not have this. Noth- 
 ing should be changed here. Father, take your own 
 place, I beg." 
 
 Assuredly not one of us would have resisted an 
 entreaty which was also a command. But our 
 father's energetic regulating force had before our 
 very faces come in contact with another force the 
 
102 THE HOUSE 
 
 power of which I had never dreamed of, that of im- 
 movability. Grandfather did not stir. He had re- 
 solved not to stir. 
 
 Father, receiving no reply, repeated his request 
 more gently, — I can not say more humbly, for at 
 all times, in spite of himself, he wore an air of pride. 
 He received in the face an outburst of that eternal 
 little laugh, with the added accompaniment of the 
 words : 
 
 " Oho f what a fuss about nothing." 
 
 " Father, give me this proof of your affection ! " 
 
 " One place or another, what's the odds .'' I am 
 very comfortable here, and here I stay," he said, 
 adding in a tone of superb disdain, " if you only 
 knew, my poor Michel, how little I care 1 " 
 
 He cared for nothing: Tem Bossette had told me 
 so; everything was all one to him; one seat or an- 
 other, one house or another. Such words as these, 
 uttered before us children, were enough to exasperate 
 our father, but he controlled himself. 
 
 " There must be a headship in the family," he 
 urged. 
 
 "Bah! We live under a republic, and I believe 
 in liberty." 
 
 Father saw that it was perfectly useless to insist, 
 and he merely added: 
 
 " Then you do reaJly refuse to come back to your 
 own place ? " 
 
 " I shall not move." 
 
 Philomena, the waitress, offered the platter. 
 
THE ABDICATION 103 
 
 Father signed to her to offer it to grandfather, after 
 which there was nothing for him but to take the seat 
 of honour. It was a relief to us all ; we all felt that 
 the place belonged to him by right and that he alone 
 deserved to occupy it. He and no one else had long 
 been the head of the family. At the slightest diffi- 
 culty or vexation every one turned to him, every one 
 appealed to him. Now the disquietude which had 
 weighed upon the house for so long a time would be 
 ended. Now we should be directed. No more slug- 
 gard kings ! The reins of government, as my history 
 book expressed it, would be held in strong hands. 
 And it was right that the head of the house should 
 have all the insignia of authority. A king does not 
 occupy the second place, and evidently my father 
 would not have crowned himself of his own accord. 
 
 Thus the transferrence of power had taken place 
 in our presence. 
 
 I should not have anticipated the change; of feel- 
 ing which took place within me, almost suddenly. 
 Grandfather's government had always seemed to 
 me precarious and derisory. But as soon as he re- 
 fused to exercise it I began to admire his disinterest- 
 edness and to discover the poetry of abdication. 
 His sovereign disdain of material things appeared 
 to me full of grandeur, and I even went so far as to 
 interpret to myself the expression which had once 
 seemed sacrilegious to me — " whether one lives in one 
 house or another." If he had done nothing to protect 
 our house, perhaps it was because he cared for higher 
 
104 THE HOUSE 
 
 and more distant things. From his tower chamber 
 he was entering into communication with the winds 
 and the stars, predicting the future. The Weather 
 and the universe were absorbing him; he could no 
 longer devote himself to common tasks. There was 
 another mode of interpreting life, which I vaguely 
 felt without understanding it, and which attracted 
 me by its unusualness, and its enigma. The de- 
 posed king, clothed in the mystery which was con- 
 ferred upon him by an unimaginable learning, was 
 recovering his prestige and even assuming, aU un- 
 aware to himself, a degree of ascendancy over my 
 spirit. 
 
 I gazed by turns at father and grandfather: 
 father in his normal place, thinking of each of us, 
 diffusing peace and order about him ; the Ught of his 
 marvellous aptitude at command shining from his 
 clear cut features and especially from his piercing 
 eyes; grandfather, the delicate lines of his face, al- 
 most feminine notwithstanding his long white beard, 
 his eyes always slightly clouded, often abstracted, 
 indifferent to all around him, and more interested in 
 the trees of the garden or the bit of sky that he saw 
 through the window than in us. For the first time I 
 was astonished to find such a difference between the 
 two men. I had never observed it before, or had not 
 thought about it. Now it struck me so strongly that 
 I almost uttered my surprise aloud. It doubtless 
 would have escaped me had I not felt the unseemliness 
 
THE ABDICATION 105 
 
 of the fact. A son ought to resemble his father — 
 there could be no doubt upon the subject. Or else it 
 wasn't worth while to be the son of some one. And 
 whom was I like? 
 
BOOK n 
 
THE PICTURES 
 
 All- these events, still so fresh in my imagination, 
 grew dim and were temporarily lost in the current 
 of the days which, during the long vacation upon 
 which we were entering, began to flow by hke a beau- 
 tiful stream, full to the brim. 
 
 As a general thing our father took his vacation 
 at the same time with us, and made the most of it 
 for getting nearer to us. We saw him much less 
 often this year, and became somewhat weaned from 
 those stories of heroism with which he used to en- 
 liven our walks, kindling and stirring us up with 
 fierce desire to fight battles and win victories. When 
 we heard him tell them we used to toss our heads, our 
 eyes would sparkle, we would walk faster, and our 
 steps fell into cadence. But to meet the new ex- 
 penses which he had assumed he had given up his 
 annual rest. Once in a while he would snatch an 
 afternoon, and make a hasty attempt to re-establish 
 the old nearness to us. But his patients came to seek 
 him at all hours of the day, or lay in wait for him 
 as he passed along. Everything conspired to de- 
 prive us of him. 
 
 Yet it was evident that his authority was every- 
 
 109 
 
110 THE HOUSE 
 
 where in exercise. When cracks had appeared in the 
 front of the house iron supports were placed under- 
 neath before it was repainted. The rooms were repa- 
 pered — mine with pleasant pictures of cats and 
 dogs — and the floors were mended where the boards 
 had shrunken apart. Even the kitchen, where for 
 years Mariette had been obstinately insisting on re- 
 pairs, without producing any effect upon grand- 
 father, who would invariably answer her with the old 
 proverb, " One wastes one's suds in washing a 
 negro's head " — even the kitchen was thoroughly re- 
 paired and paved with wonderful red bricks. The 
 entrance gate which would not close had been 
 repaired, and even provided with a key, a key which 
 really turned in the lock! The linden was trimmed, 
 permitting the sundial once more to mark the hours. 
 The break in the wall, by which the mole-crickets 
 used to penetrate, by which, one memorable even- 
 ing, I had seen our enemies introducing themselves 
 into the place, was closed by a balustrade, set into 
 the trunk of the chestnut tree. And now too was 
 seen what had never before been seen: the three la- 
 bourers at their post, and — still more marvellous 
 sight — all three working at once! 
 
 Little by little the garden — my old garden that 
 used to be a perfect forest of weeds, in which there 
 was never an end to discovering new trees or 
 plants — so well were they hidden — was trans- 
 formed and reduced to order. The alleys were 
 cleaned out and sanded, the beds remade and the 
 
THE PICTURES 111 
 
 rose bushes trimmed. The trees, reduced to their 
 proper proportions, cast a well defined shade. A 
 useless field became an orchard. A fountain, set in 
 the heart of a grass plot, sent up a shaft of water 
 to fall in a fine musical rain into its basin. There 
 were flowers and fruits to gather for banquets and 
 desserts. But we no longer dared to feel of the pears 
 and peaches — still less to give to their stems that 
 slight see-saw motion which made them fall. In 
 the wide newly-opened space our larceny would 
 have been discovered. And I vainly sought to lay 
 low with my sword the underbrush that used to grow 
 thick on the edge of the chestnut grove. Tem Boss- 
 ette refused to whittle me out the smallest wooden 
 sword, and watched over the stakes as if he had paid 
 for them himself. 
 
 These changes were not made all at once, 
 and no doubt I have their chronology mixed. We 
 hardly noticed them during their slow and gradual 
 progress, and when they were all made we ceased to 
 remember how things were before. Indeed they 
 were not accomplished without many perturba- 
 tions. Tem wiped his brow unceasingly and sweated 
 out all his wine. Mimi Pachoux stole away no 
 longer but made a great noise to attest the cer- 
 tainty of his presence; and The Hanged bent his 
 dantesque countenance over obscure and useful tasks. 
 The community of their fate had by no means 
 brought about their reconciliation. They were al- 
 ways observing, spying upon one another, but all 
 
113 THE HOUSE 
 
 three observed and watched the house still more 
 closely. What did they fear to see emerging from 
 it? 
 
 I discovered one day. My father, who had be- 
 come their master, drew near with rapid step. He 
 spoke to each with kindly encouragement, but he ex- 
 amined their work as one who knew. 
 
 " All the same, he knows what he is about," Mimi 
 admiringly confessed. 
 
 I learned from Tem that after having severely 
 admonished them he had raised their wages. But 
 he insisted upon good work. In a word, he drew, 
 them back to himself whenever they demurred at a 
 task, or soured upon it. But without doubt he upset 
 all the old habits of a region where people love to 
 drift along, taking life as easily as they drink its 
 new wine. This is why Tem Bossette, more than 
 any of them, sighed for the ancient reign of the Slug- 
 gard Kings, when he had lived tranquil and forgotten 
 among his vines. 
 
 Once he tried in my presence to move grandfather 
 to pity for his sad fate. 
 
 " Friend," was the answer, " I am nobody here ; 
 go to some one else." 
 
 Never had grandfather seemed so full of spirits 
 as since his abdication. No, certainly he did not re- 
 gret his lost authority, but he made a point of know- 
 ing nothing of the acts of the new regime. Did he 
 travel over the kingdom .-' He seemed never to per- 
 ceive that its very pebbles were blossoming. But 
 
THE PICTURES 113 
 
 one day, when he was taking the air in the garden, 
 I saw him combing his beard and rubbing his eye- 
 brows — a sure token that he was dissatisfied; he 
 spat, as a sign of contempt, and the little impertinent 
 laugh accompanied words which were incompre- 
 hensible to me. 
 
 " Oho ! everything is being put to rights — what 
 they need is a geometrician rather than a gardener." 
 
 What was he finding fault with.'' The garden beds, 
 the trees, obedient to the hand of man, made a 
 richly disposed picture. My little ideas of life had 
 here grouped themselves and taken form with un- 
 wonted pleasure. I was provoked with grandfather's 
 lack of enthusiasm. 
 
 " See," I said to him, not knowing just what to 
 say, " those beautiful red cannas around the basin 
 of the fountain." 
 
 He took me by the arm with unexpected rough- 
 ness. 
 
 " Look out, child, you'll spoil the grass ! " 
 
 I had indeed set my foot upon the grass border of 
 the path. And I clearly perceived that grandfather 
 was ridiculing my admiration and the garden both 
 at once. Suddenly, under the influence of his sar- 
 casm, I recalled the old garden, the old garden as it 
 had been, a wild mass of foliage, when I might trample 
 on the very borders, with their sparse flowers grow- 
 ing helter-skelter, where I had known the wild joy of 
 liberty. 
 
 Grandfather would never have permitted himself 
 
114- THE HOUSE 
 
 such a criticism before my father. My mind hav- 
 ing been drawn to observe the dissimilarity between 
 them, I had noticed the constraint in their relations. 
 Father was always making advances; treating 
 grandfather with extreme deference; never failing 
 to inquire as to his health, his walks, and even, in- 
 dulgent to his meteorological hobby, asking him as to 
 weather prospects. Grandfather would reply 
 briefly, without making the slightest attempt to 
 continue the conversation, which soon fell flat, — or 
 he would bring forward his little wounding smile, 
 as soon as a subject was introduced on which it was 
 not certain that they were in agreement. 
 
 One day father asked for his account books, ex- 
 plaining that he needed to verify certain memoranda 
 of claims upon the property which had not yet been 
 settled and which appeared to be exorbitant. 
 Grandfather opened his eyes: 
 
 " My account books .'' " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I never kept any." 
 
 Father hesitated for a second. " Very well," he 
 said simply and turned away. 
 
 In his tower where he had settled himself, grand- 
 father took great comfort in wearing his famous 
 green dressing gown and Greek cap of black velvet 
 with its silk tassel. With his telescope fixed upon 
 a pedestal, he would watch by day the boats that 
 ploughed the waters of the lake, and at night he 
 would bring the stars nearer — but only those which 
 
THE PICTURES 115 
 
 moved in the southern half of the sky, because from 
 his former room he had only had a view of this part 
 of the heavens, and knew it better. Much more 
 frequently than in the old days he would come down 
 stairs in this astrologer's costume, like a deposed 
 monarch who no longer sets store by majesty. It 
 was with great difficulty that Aunt Deen prevented 
 him from going into town, or walking in the coun- 
 try, in this accoutrement. 
 
 " It does no one any harm," he would observe. 
 
 Nevertheless, after many entreaties, he would con- 
 sent to replace the cap with a broad brimmed felt 
 hat, and the dressing gown with a frock coat which 
 had to be almost daily rubbed with benzine, in spite 
 of him, to keep it decent. He would bring home 
 from his walks aromatic plants of which he used to 
 make decoctions which he would mix with brandy, and 
 mushrooms which awakened Aunt Deen's misgivings. 
 I used to look at them, smell them, but for nothing 
 in the world would I have tasted them. I could 
 not think, in those days, that anything good to eat 
 could be found outside a provision store, except, on a 
 pinch, in our garden. 
 
 My father's reign had lasted three good years, 
 perhaps, indeed, nearer four than three, when an 
 event occurred of large importance in my child life — 
 I fell ill. The previous year I had made my first 
 communion, with such deep fervour that my mother 
 had confidentially wondered to Aunt Deen: 
 
116 THE HOUSE 
 
 "Is he going to follow the example of Melanie 
 and Stephen? Will God require of us a third 
 child? His will he done!" 
 
 My adventure was almost that of the fair chUd 
 who escaped from the arms of his mother. In the 
 course of a walk of our " division " I had tmnbled 
 into a brook which we had been forbidden to ap- 
 proach, and rather than be blamed had decided to 
 say nothing about it, though I was soaked up to 
 the chest. Fever set in the next day or the day 
 after. I learned later that it was a severe attack 
 of pneumonia, which in time degenerated into 
 pleurisy. My life was believed to be in danger, and 
 my malady became the occasion of a change in the 
 family arrangements which had almost altered the 
 whole direction of my youth. In a half-slumber 
 I heard whisperings around me, the meaning of 
 which I at once interpreted. 
 
 " Am I going to die? " I asked mother and Aunt 
 Deen who were at my bedside. 
 
 " Be quiet, naughty boy ! " murmured Aunt Deen 
 blowing her nose with a sob and deep sighs, which 
 she doubtless supposed herself to be suppressing. 
 
 Mother laid her hand upon my brow • — its touch 
 refreshed me as her gentle and persuasive voice said, 
 
 " Don't be uneasy ; we are here." 
 
 I knew very well what death was. The school 
 porter having died, a weird whim of our religious 
 director had constrained us to defile, class by class, 
 before the bier upon which the corpse had been laid. 
 
THE PICTURES 117 
 
 before the cover of the cofEn was screwed down. 
 Now this porter was a short stout man, whose mortal 
 remains required a cubic receptacle in which he 
 looked to us so comical and smirking that we burst 
 into a laugh that, though it scandalised us, we found 
 it impossible to repress. The indignant professor 
 who was acting as marshal to this abortive pilgrim- 
 age overwhelmed us with the severest reproaches, 
 not hesitating to add thereto in due time a sermon 
 upon our final destiny. With no circumlocution he 
 informed us that we were all to die, and perhaps 
 very soon, that our parents would die, and that we 
 should lose every one we loved. By degrees our 
 laughter died away. A vague fear took possession 
 of us, heightened by the monotonous repetition of 
 the word death, continually thrown at our heads. 
 When I went back to the house that morning, greatly 
 moved in spite of myself by that vehement discourse, 
 I looked at my father and mother as I had never 
 looked at them before. They were coming and go- 
 ing as usual, without dreaming that I was watching 
 them. They even laughed at one of Bernard's re- 
 marks : I heard them laugh — a hearty laugh very 
 Hke that which the unlucky porter in his box 
 had aroused in us. Ah, that laugh! especially our 
 father's laugh, strong and sonorous, giving a splen- 
 did impression of health — how it comforted me, and 
 how it put to flight the terrified curiosity which had 
 taken possession of me. 
 
 " Aha ! " I thought in my little brain, " the 
 
118 THE HOUSE 
 
 teacher was lying like a dentist! They will not 
 die — that is certain. They can't die. To begin 
 with, when people laugh, that means that they don't 
 die." 
 
 This evident conclusion set my heart at rest. So 
 far as I was concerned there was no longer any ques- 
 tion on the subject. They were in front and I be- 
 hind them. And since there was no risk for them 
 how could death touch me, passing them by? 
 
 My question "Am I going to die.''" was there- 
 fore simply designed to make myself interesting. In 
 their presence I was safe. 
 
 Mother and Aunt Deen watched me by turns, that 
 I might see no strange face; mother took two nights 
 out of three, and I liked her best. She glided into 
 the room like a mist over the lake, without the slight- 
 est sound. I was never aware of any of her move- 
 ments. Her cares and her caresses mingled; while 
 Aunt Deen, the dear woman, at the cost of tremen- 
 dous effort, disturbed and irritated me. 
 
 The Important part which I myself was playing 
 was by no means irksome to me. I seemed to my- 
 self to have become smaller than my brother James 
 and my sister Nicola, and that I might just as well 
 be rocked to sleep with lullabies. I used to ask 
 for Venice and The Pool, because of my own drench- 
 ing, and they thought I was delirious. I distinctly 
 see in memory those two faces bending over me, and 
 still more clearly that of my father, who was con- 
 tinually coming to see me; the attentive, fixed, al- 
 
THE PICTURES 119 
 
 most severe expression with which he noted the ef- 
 fects of my disease upon my body was quite strange 
 to me. It was his professional expression; the ex- 
 amination once over, his features would relax, light- 
 ened up by fatherhood. 
 
 One day father brought in another doctor, but I 
 clearly saw that the little man stood in awe of him, 
 and invariably repeated what he said to him. With 
 implacable logic I observed to my faithful nurses, 
 
 "What's the use of troubling that gentleman? 
 Father knows much more about it than he. Father 
 doesn't need any one." 
 
 I probably uttered these words or something like 
 them in a low voice. Aunt Deen promptly approved. 
 
 " The child is right. He speaks so sensibly that 
 he is surely getting well." 
 
 She repeated my remark to father, who was still 
 anxious, and who smiled, as he had not done of late. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " we shall save him." 
 
 I had no need of any such assurance. I felt it 
 so strongly that that was enough. He never 
 dreamed that this very illness, over which he was 
 triumphing by skill and will-power, was later to be 
 the origin of the home tragedy in which I wandered 
 away from him. 
 
 My brothers and sisters were brought into my 
 room, two by two, in succession, guarded with all 
 sorts of advice — not to stay long, to make no noise, 
 not to touch the medicine bottles. Naturally they 
 were soon bored and departed. Each of them took 
 
120 THE HOUSE 
 
 some credit for my cure, which I owed to the prayers 
 of Stephen and Melanie, to Bernard's martial ex- 
 hortations and to the comfortable gaiety of Louise. 
 As for the two little ones, they were prudently kept 
 in the background after James, no doubt repeating 
 what he had heard among the servants, had shouted, 
 jumping up and down with enthusiasm, 
 
 " Fan9ois " (he could hardly say r) " will soon 
 be dead." 
 
 Grandfather never appeared at my bedside. Per- 
 haps he apprehended no danger. I think it was 
 rather that he had an invincible horror of iUness and 
 all that might result from it. Deeply concerned 
 with his own health, he kept careful account of his 
 bodily functions, and with that perfect courtesy from 
 which he never departed he never failed to inform 
 the entire household of the state of his internal 
 economy; when that went ill he would lament griev- 
 ously and Aunt I>een would produce from a cup- 
 board a venerable instrument which when rubbed 
 up and mended was stiU good for use. 
 
 " Nothing is more important," he would say, in 
 our presence, gazing upon the Instrument with a 
 satisfied air. 
 
 My convalescence was a period of enchantment, 
 not for the new zest that it lent to life, the savour 
 of which only he can taste who has deemed his life 
 put In jeopardy, but because it truly opened to me 
 the mysterious realm of books. I was not unfamiliar 
 with the Rose Library. I knew Canon Schmid, and 
 
THE PICTURES 121 
 
 Jules Verne's romances, and even the fairy tales of 
 Perrault and Andersen, but I had never found in 
 any of them that heart thrill which keeps you awake 
 in bed at night, expecting, fearing some unknown 
 delight not unmingled with danger, such as I had 
 found in Aunt Deen's amazing stories, and above all 
 in the epic tales that father used to tell. 
 
 Not to weary me, they began by bringing me illus- 
 trated books. Bernard let me look over the Epinal 
 albums which he was collecting for the sake of the 
 military costumes, and which it cost him some self- 
 denial to lend. I begged for Gustave Dore's Bible, 
 of which once in the parlour by special favour I had 
 been shown the pictures without being permitted to 
 touch it. The two heavy volumes were propped up 
 on the table,, in great state, and I passed long hours 
 in turning the pages. Mother would come and go 
 in the room, somewhat surprised at my being so good, 
 and even a little disturbed by my silence. She 
 would approach noiselessly and look over my shoul- 
 der. 
 
 " You are not getting tired? " 
 
 « Oh, no ! " 
 
 "You are not bored? " 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! " 
 
 "Are they beautiful?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 When one is a child one doesn't know what is 
 beautiful. The beautiful thing is to have the heart 
 satisfied. What a sudden uplift my entire aesthetic 
 
122 THE HOUSE 
 
 nature received from them! The unframed out- 
 lines of nature had never impressed me; now that, 
 copied, transferred to a square of paper, I could 
 look at them, I saw them, not only on the motionless 
 page, but everywhere, and all alive. The house with 
 its great stones, the walled-in garden — I had often 
 used to touch them, imderstand them, possess 
 them; — and besides, they belonged to me. But 
 beyond our house the universe began, and its llmit- 
 lessness had repelled me, so that I could never think 
 of it as having definite outlines. And here those out- 
 lines were, before my eyes ; through the open Bible I 
 discovered them. 
 
 At thirty years' distance I find again in my 
 memory, with no need of verification, the pictures 
 of Gustave Dore. The pages turn of their own 
 accord and my beloved phantoms reappear. Here 
 are those visions of dread, Leviathan upheaving the 
 sea, the destroying Angel exterminating Sennach- 
 erib's army, the long train of Nicannor's elephants 
 between which Judas Maccabeus has to pass, and 
 Death in the Apocalypse on his pale horse. They 
 were not my favourites, and in the evening I used 
 even to avoid them. My favourites were those quiet, 
 reposeful, almost shadowy Oriental landscapes, 
 where the summer sunlight seemed to draw up mists, 
 where strange plants grew most unlike our oaks and 
 chestnuts, where in the background were shadows of 
 oxen and camels, far away like boats upon the lake 
 in time of fog. 
 
THE PICTURES 1^3 
 
 The birth of Eve seemed lovely to me. While 
 Adam sleeps among the flowers of Eden, she uprises 
 erect and unclothed, with floating hair. One of her 
 knees — look at it, I am sure of it ! — slightly bent, 
 is caressed by the sunlight. Through her, by this 
 light upon her knee, I felt something of the pure 
 perfection of nudity long before I even dreamed of 
 its desire. Abraham leads his flocks to the land of 
 Canaan, and the backs of the huddled sheep undu- 
 late like the waves that I had seen from the lake 
 shore. The cradle of Moses floats upon the Nile; 
 Pharaoh's daughter has come out from the palace 
 that stands basking in the sun ; she draws near the 
 river; one of her waiting women takes up the little 
 bark. Rebecca, in a long white veil, rests her pitcher 
 upon the margin of the well and talks with Eliezer, 
 a venerable old man ; but I don't distinguish her from 
 the Samaritan woman who takes the same position. 
 Ruth, kneeling, gleans the wheat ears. The great 
 cedars of Lebanon, cut down, lie upon the earth 
 which their shadow overspreads ; they are waiting to 
 be used in building the temple in Jerusalem. The 
 angel of the Annunciation hovers in the air, like a 
 falling leaf upheld by the wind. Jesus in the house 
 of Lazarus is sitting on the window ledge, the moon- 
 light stealing through the palm trees. Mary 
 crouching at his feet is drinking in his words, Mar- 
 tha, standing, is busy with household cares. Pic- 
 tures through which peace flows like a limpid stream, 
 and which are but the transposition of every-day 
 
lU THE HOUSE 
 
 scenes, almost like those which I might have seen at 
 our house and in the country, — pictures of obscure 
 lives, through which God passes. 
 
 One day when I declined to be present at the re- 
 turn of the prodigal son to the paternal home, my 
 mother, who loved that parable, asked the reason of 
 this disdain. 
 
 " Why don't you look at this page.'' " 
 
 I made a gesture of disgust. It seemed common- 
 place to me — a father forgiving his son — what 
 was there surprising in that? 
 
 AthaHa wringing her hands in despair beside the 
 temple wall, while the soldiers come running to kill 
 her, recalled to my mother her convent. She had 
 herself taken part in the chorus of that tragedy 
 which Racine had written for the young pupils of 
 Saint-Cyr, and which by a happy tradition all girls' 
 boarding schools used to present in those days; the 
 Unes came back to her with a rush: 
 
 The universe is full of His magnificence: 
 Let us praise God and worship Him forever. 
 
 She would recite them with that emotion which re- 
 ligious things always awakened in her, and her tones 
 touched me more directly than that sophisticated 
 art which was beyond my powers. 
 
 Another little book had a part in opening my 
 mind to poetry, — it was a book of ballads. A 
 knight wandering in the forest, snatched away from 
 Titania, queen of the elves and sylphs, her cup of 
 
THE PICTURES 125 
 
 happiness and carried it off to his castle on his gal- 
 loping horse, A little girl on the bank of a stream 
 sang the romance of the swan's nest hidden among 
 the reeds, and dreamed of a knight who should come 
 upon a red roan steed. The Lord of Burleigh mar- 
 ried a shepherdess, who languished in the palace to 
 which he took her, and died of longing for her village 
 and her cottage. How I entered into their longings 
 and their melancholy! Their heartaches poured 
 into my heart a delicious pain, which I could not 
 fathom. Yet I was beginning to discern that we 
 have within ourselves an upspringing fountain of in- 
 finitely delicate joys. 
 
 Did my father distrust these exciting readings as 
 he did grandfather's music.'' He brought me short, 
 simple biographies of great men. It is never too 
 early to make acquaintance with such. One forms 
 a habit of comparing himself with the heroes, and 
 doesn't fail to say to oneself : " I have time before 
 me; when I am their age I mean to have surpassed 
 them. . , ." By degrees one begins to look for 
 those whose exploits come late in life. I do not know 
 which of these exemplary personages it was of whom 
 I read that he entered the school of adversity. I 
 imagined that school to be at least as severe as the 
 Polytechnic, or Saint-Cyr, to which my brother Ber- 
 nard was destined, and I burned to present myself 
 there for admission. I did not know that it is the 
 only one that requires no examination, no prelim- 
 inaries, above all, no recommendation. I confided 
 
126 THE HOUSE 
 
 my desire to my mother. She smiled, which vexed 
 me, and assured me that I should indeed present my- 
 self there for admission, but she hoped it would be 
 as late as possible. 
 
 These readings transported me into a glorious 
 state of enthusiasm. I could not have understood 
 sarcasm. No one made use of it in our family. 
 There was only grandfather's little laugh. Our par- 
 ents loved gaiety, took pleasure even in the noise 
 that we made, but they never used ridicule. They 
 took life seriously, as an opportunity for well-doing, 
 and deemed that it deserved the greatest respect. 
 Grandfather, running through my books, on the first 
 visit that he deigned to pay me after being assured 
 that I was recovering, let faU certain exclamations: 
 
 " Oho ! the Bible ! and the Famous Men I Poor 
 child! Just wait, I'U bring you some books." 
 
 And in fact he brought me " Scenes from the Pub- 
 lic and Private Life of Animals," and the " Ad- 
 ventures of Three Old Sailors," both adorrifed with 
 illustrations. The latter volume was in a sad con- 
 dition, the stitches loose, the leaves falling out, and 
 the end entirely gone as well as the cover. It must 
 have been translated from the English and its hu- 
 mour perplexed me. Those three sailors, who had 
 escaped from shipwreck, landed on a desert island 
 where they were pursued by a tiger. They climbed 
 a tree, by way of refuge from the ferocious creature, 
 and the picture showed them clinging to the trunk 
 perched one above the other, with hair standing on 
 
THE PICTURES 127 
 
 end, eyes staring, toes curled up. The wild beast 
 was springing up toward them, it was easy to see 
 that with a little exertion he would have them. Then 
 with fierce resolution inspired by the most imperative 
 necessity, the two uppermost bore down with aU their 
 weight upon the lowermost one, in order to force him 
 to let go, hoping that this prize would suffice to sat- 
 isfy the assailant's fury. And while bearing down 
 with all their might they addressed to their unhappy 
 companion the most touching words of parting: 
 
 " Good-bye, Jeremiah " ( such was his unpropi- 
 tious name) , " we will go and console your poor 
 father and your betrothed." 
 
 But Jeremiah, like Rachel, refused to be com- 
 forted, and stiff'ened himself, to cling the tighter. 
 Accustomed as I was to tales of heroism I was much 
 displeased with these traitorous friends. 
 
 " Scenes in the Life of Animals " appeared to me- 
 to have more sense. It was a motley collection such 
 as all old-time libraries prided themselves on contain- 
 ing. Grandville's vignettes revealed to me traces of 
 animal characteristics in men, whom till then I had 
 thought of only as in the image of God. The ani- 
 mals in the book were dressed like men and women 
 and looked like them. I soon became accustomed to 
 this treatment, the disguises were so natural! Here 
 were the nightingale as a postman, the dog as a 
 lackey, the rabbit as a petty subaltern employe, and 
 there were the vulture as a landed proprietor, the lion 
 as an old beau, the turkey as a banker, the ass as 
 
128 THE HOUSE 
 
 an academician. The centipedes were playing the 
 piano for a young lady dancing on the tight rope, 
 while the cricket was making a trumpet of the 
 carolla of the bindweed. The chameleon, as a dep- 
 uty, mounted the tribune to state that he was proud 
 and happy to be always of everybody's opinion. 
 The shark and the saw-fish had on surgeons' blouses, 
 and frankly declared, " We are going to cut muscles, 
 saw bones — in a word, heal the sick." The wolf, 
 having murdered a sheep, is reading in his prison 
 the Idylls of Mme Deshoulieres, while celebrity 
 comes to him under the form of a complaint sold 
 by hawkers, to he sung to the air of Fualdes: 
 
 Hearken, Woodpeckers and Ducks, 
 Jays and Turkeys, Crows and Rooks; 
 The story of a frightful crime 
 Worthy of Harpies, in their time. 
 Who performed the direful act? 
 A wolf, indelicate, in fact. 
 
 The bear was enjoying retirement in the bosom 
 of his family ; he could be seen warming his youngest 
 bom by holding him before the fire by the paws ; his 
 wife was hanging linen before the fire and a young 
 cub in a corner was lifting up his little shirt by way 
 of precaution before retiring ; some one Is knocking at 
 the door, but the legend explains: 
 
 " We live by ourselves ; we detest visitors and 
 bores." 
 
 A parroquet flapping his wings without Eeing able 
 to fly represented the illustrious poet Kacatogan. 
 
THE PICTURES 129 
 
 And the martlet with the magpie and the crow made 
 a trio of women of letters. I did not know what a 
 woman of letters could be, but the White Blackbird, 
 who like the parroquet was a poet, taught me in his 
 memoirs : 
 
 While I was composing my poem^ she mas 
 bedaubing reams of paper with her scribblings. I 
 would recite my verses to her aloud, and she, in- 
 different, kept on writing while I was doing so. She 
 produced romances with a facility almost equal to 
 mine, always choosing the most dramatic subjects: 
 parricides, kidnappings, mwrders, and even pocket- 
 picking, always taking pains to attack the govern- 
 ment, in passing, and to preach the emancipation of 
 Martlets. In one word, no effort was too great for 
 her mind, no clap-trap for her modesty; it never oc- 
 curred to her to erase a line, nor to work out a plan 
 before setting to work. She was the typical lettered 
 Martlet. 
 
 Aunt Deen also produced stories with marvellous 
 facility; she, too, preferred terrible subjects and 
 was not averse to attacking the government. I even 
 suspected her of not knowing, when she began, how 
 she was going to end up, and of inventing the plots 
 of her stories as she went along. Then why didn't 
 she bedaub paper.'' The simplest way was to ask 
 her. 
 
 " Aunt Deen, are you a woman of letters ? " 
 
 She asked me twice to repeat my question, as if 
 women of letters really belonged to the zoological 
 
130 THE HOUSE 
 
 kingdom, in the category of monsters. After which 
 she shrugged her shoulders, not even deigning to re- 
 ply directly. 
 
 " The child is certainly crazy. Augustus's books 
 have addled his brain." 
 
 There was some talk of taking away the " Scenes 
 in the Life of Animals," the caricatures in which had 
 amused even my father and brought a smile to his 
 lips. The effect of the incident was to attach me 
 all the more strongly to the White Blackbird, who 
 had nearly caused the book to be placed upon the 
 Index. And I soon came to see what it undoubtedly 
 was that distinguished Aunt Deen from the Lettered 
 Martlet. The latter, with immaculate plumage, 
 was in fact merely painted — covered over with 
 a layer of flour which gave her that appearance of 
 having fallen from the sky. The White Blackbird, 
 who never suspected it, and thought he had discov- 
 ered in the Martlet a creature unique in all the 
 world, becoming suspicious of a mysterious pot of 
 some white mixture, had a disastrous experience. 
 His poems moving him to tenderness, he shed such 
 profuse tears over his companion as to dissolve the 
 plaster of paris with which she was covered, and 
 reveal her as the most commonplace of blackbirds. 
 Now I had often wept in Aunt Deen's arms ; she had 
 bewailed my sorrows without losing anything of her 
 colour. She made use neither of paste nor flour ; no, 
 decidedly, however beautiful the stories she made up, 
 she would never be a woman of letters. 
 
THE PICTURES 131 
 
 Another bit of knowledge came to me from the 
 White Blackbird. I learned from him to enjoy the 
 charm of words for their own sake, independently of 
 their meaning. After his conjugal mishap, he fled 
 to the fores-t to confide his woes to the Nightingale, 
 uttering to her this plaint: I was co-ordinating 
 fooleries while you were in the woods. I did not 
 clearly grasp the meaning, because of the co-ordina- 
 tion of fooleries, which eluded me, and yet I loved 
 the melody of this phrase, and repeated it over and 
 over to myself. The reply of the Nightingale, still 
 more deeply charged with mystery, completely upset 
 me. I love the Rose, he sighed. Sadi the Persian 
 has sv/ng of her: I wear out my throat all night sing- 
 ing to her, hut she sleeps, and hears me not. Her 
 chalice is at this moment closed; she is cherishing an 
 old Beetle there; and to-morrow mornimg, when I go 
 back to my couch, exhausted with suffering and 
 weariness, then she will open her petals that a bee 
 may devour her heart. I took no interest either in 
 the old Beetle or in Sadi the Persian ; the exhausted 
 Nightingale, and that Rose with the devoured heart, 
 communicated to me, by the magic of syllables, a 
 sort of far-ofF presentiment of love-pain, in which 
 I found a vague and ineffable sadness. 
 
 Such sadness was very quick to pass. Much 
 sooner, however, I had borrowed from my new 
 friends, the animals, an art of ridiculing which I 
 found most delightful. I could see no one without 
 finding his double among the beasts. Tem Bossette 
 
132 THE HOUSE 
 
 with his flat face and goggle eyes became a frog — 
 the very frog that tried to make himself as big as 
 the ox ; Mimi Pachoux with his furtive step and sud- 
 den disappearance I compared to a rat, and The 
 Hanged, who always seemed to find difficulty in using 
 his arms, to a kangaroo, with his very short front 
 legs. 
 
 This turn of mind shocked and disturbed my 
 mother. One day she received in my presence a visit 
 from a person of a certain age who was superintend- 
 ing a work room, founding an orphan asylum, build- 
 ing a school, in a word, directing more works in the 
 parish than actually existed. Her name was MUe 
 Tapinois. She was tall and dried up, with a pointed 
 nose, sloping shoulders and a frigid air. She cooed 
 softly without a moment's interruption. When she 
 was gone I showed mother, in my book, an old dove 
 in a night gown, with a candle-stick in its claw : 
 
 " Mademoiselle Tapinois," I said triumphantly. 
 
 Mother protested against my unseemly compari- 
 son. 
 
 " She is a holy woman," she concluded, by way of 
 arousing my sympathy. 
 
 But though she did not admit it, I saw that she 
 had recognised the likeness. 
 
 Encouraged by the degree of success I had 
 achieved with MUe Tapinois, I thenceforth watched 
 our visitors to deal out to them the same treatment, 
 and the facility of this game amazed me. I had no 
 difficulty in finding a stout landed proprietor for 
 
THE PICTURES 133 
 
 the elephant, a woe-begone collector of mortgages for 
 the owl, a pianist for the centipede. An old noble- 
 man with a Roman nose reminded me of the falcon 
 whom the Revolutions had ruined. In a very short 
 while my collection was further enriched by the bear, 
 the chameleon, and several rabbits, drawn from the 
 registry or the tax office. But the region at that 
 time had no departmental muse worthy to be cat- 
 alogued among the martlets. They tell me that there 
 are swarms of them now-a-days. 
 
 Grandfather, to whom I confided my observations, 
 gave them his full approbation. 
 
 " Now you know," he said, " that animals and men 
 are brothers. But the animals are better fellows 
 than we." 
 
 Nevertheless a secret instinct warned me not to 
 consult my parents on this subject. 
 
n 
 
 THE BESIEE 
 
 Fine weather had come. Three months still lay 
 between us and the long vacation. Father, agree- 
 ing with the timid little colleague whom he had again 
 called in to support his own opinion, declared that 
 I was not to return to school until the end of the 
 vacation next October. 
 
 " The child needs out-of-door air. The first 
 thing is to build up his health," 
 
 I was pained by this decision, which wounded my 
 pride. If I were not in school during the last quar- 
 ter, I could not hope for a wreath at the distribu- 
 tion of prizes. For I was full of emulation, and 
 loved to take the first place, though this brought 
 down upon me grandfather's ridicule. 
 
 " Those classifications mean nothing. First or 
 last it's all one." 
 
 Father laid out for me a very simple plan of life. 
 A country walk morning and evening, far from the 
 microbes of the town, where you can breath fresh 
 air uncontaminated by human beings. Thus I 
 should recover strength and appetite. But who 
 would walk with me and be my guide.? Who would 
 undertake a peripatetic preceptorship of this 
 
 134 
 
THE DESIRE 135 
 
 sort? Father, already behind in his duties because 
 of my long illness, belonged to his absorbing profes- 
 sion; mother, whose presence was certainly required 
 by the whole family, especially the little ones, could 
 hardly ever leave the house except to go to church. 
 Aunt Deen had no out-of-door legs, a deficiency which 
 did not prevent her going up and down stairs, from 
 kitchen to tower, a hundred times a day. There re- 
 mained grandfather. He always took a walk morn- 
 ing and evening on his own account; what would it 
 cost him to take me along? This would suit all 
 round; the plan was evidently the best possible. 
 
 I perceived, however, that it met a serious resist- 
 ance, for I overheard my parents discussing it in 
 the calm and confident tone which they always used 
 when regulating, in perfect accord, aU questions con- 
 cerning us. 
 
 " I would not have him turn him against the 
 house," said my father. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, as If it were wrong to admit 
 such a thought, " he wouldn't do that ! You don't 
 think that of your own father, surely! Of course 
 he has his whims, and his ideas are not always ours. 
 What he needs is God. But he is good hearted; he 
 will be grateful to you for your confidence. And 
 we could not ask such a thing of a stranger." 
 
 " I am not quite satisfied with the plan," said 
 father. 
 
 A little later he resumed the subject. " I will 
 speak to him; there seems to be no other way." 
 
136 THE HOUSE 
 
 When this proposition conceniing me was 
 broached to him, grandfather acceded to it without 
 either enthusiasm or hostility, with an indifference 
 that wounded me. 
 
 " I'd just as soon. It's the same to me whether 
 I take my walk alone or with some one." (Nat- 
 urally !) " Children ought to live out of doors. 
 Study does no good. No more do medicines." 
 
 Father no doubt had an interview with him at 
 which I was not present, and the affair was decided. 
 How would he act toward his new companion? He 
 always treated my brothers and sisters and me, even 
 the two youngest, like reasonable persons, though a 
 little more interesting than others, lending to our 
 remarks as much attention as to those of grown per- 
 sons; but we had an impression that he couldn't 
 always tell us apart, and that he would cheerfully 
 have dispensed with us all, which seemed to us an 
 affront. 
 
 Why had father told mother that he was not quite 
 satisfied? On the morning of my first walk with 
 grandfather he was waiting for us at the door on 
 our return. He inspected me, looking me over from 
 head to foot, then, as if resolved, he took my hand 
 and placed it in grandfather's with a certain solem- 
 nity — as a reigning king might do, I thought. 
 
 " Here is my son," he said ; " I entrust him to you ; 
 he holds the future of our house." 
 
 Grandfather received the precious trust indiffer- 
 ently, replying in a slightly sarcastic tone, thus at 
 
THE DESIRE 137 
 
 once putting the incident upon an every-day foot- 
 ing: 
 
 " Don't worry, Michel ; no one is going to rob you 
 of him." 
 
 I smiled, standing between the two. How could 
 grandfather rob my father of me? 
 
 The smallest details of that walk are present with 
 me now. And rightly, so great was its importance 
 in my life. But everything is important when one 
 is little. After a rain the drenched fields seem to 
 draw nearer to one another, and the plants reflect 
 the sunlight from all their pendant drops. My eyes, 
 purged by illness, must have thus shone. 
 
 " Where are we going, grandfather? " 
 
 I inclined to the direction of the town, where we 
 should find attractions of all sorts, shops, bazars, 
 show-windows, faces, noise and movement. 
 
 At the outset we were stopped by the closed gate, 
 the key of which we had forgotten to bring. 
 
 " Run and get it, child. But why the devil should 
 they barricade the gate?" 
 
 It was one of Aunt Deen*s thousand precautions ; 
 the previous evening, or the one before, she had seen 
 from afar a gipsy waggon, and since then she had 
 been keeping prudent guard over the household. I 
 ran, somewhat scandalised by grandfather's remark. 
 Wasn't it necessary to guard the house against ene- 
 mies? A kingdom has frontiers which must be re- 
 spected; was it not enough that shadows crossed 
 them every evening in spite of gates and bolts? 
 
138 THE HOUSE 
 
 We are off at last, and grandfather at once turns 
 his back upon the town: 
 " Child, I don't Uke towns," 
 
 Good-bye to shops and people! We had not 
 walked ten minutes when he took it into his head 
 to leave the highroad, along which we were walking 
 at our ease, quite properly, without hurry, and took 
 a footpath which crossed the fields haphazard. 
 " You're taking the wrong road, grandfather." 
 " Not at all. Child, I detest roads ! " 
 WeU, well! he was more surprising than when he 
 used to come down to the dining-room in his dress- 
 ing gown and Greek cap. I had always supposed 
 that roads were made to be used, not despised. And 
 besides, how could one get along without them when 
 one went out? 
 
 The hardly perceptible path which we had taken 
 obliged us to walk single file. I went first, in the 
 capacity of scout. The wheat on one side was al- 
 ready tall, on the other side were oats, quivering on 
 their slender stems. I had learned to know the vari- 
 ous grains from our farmer. Wheat and oats soon 
 mingled fraternally before me. 
 
 " Grandfather, there is no more path." 
 We might have expected it. Our path had van- 
 ished. Grandfather quietly passed before me, ap- 
 peared to take his bearings, snuffed the wind, tram- 
 pled down a few stalks, and reached a hedge which 
 he overleaped with an ease that was surprising at 
 his age. 
 
THE DESIRE 139 
 
 " My boy," he said, helping me to scramble 
 through it, " I abhor fences." 
 
 Our comradeship was beginning well! No roads, 
 no fences ! We soon entered a chestnut wood, not in 
 the least like the four or five trees which were the 
 pride of our domain. Here, above us, was a great 
 vault supported by trunks and intermingled branches 
 like so many colossal columns. I saw grandfather 
 stoop and gather from the moss a mushroom that 
 looked like a little white umbrella, wide open. 
 
 " This is a sort of amanita," he said. " It is 
 supposed to be poisonous, whereas it is edible." (He 
 tasted it to prove his words.) " It isn't the season, 
 yet. I will teach you to know all the cryptogams. 
 There are very few noxious ones. Nature is good, 
 and never wishes us harm. It is men who spoil her. 
 I know a priest who lives on Satan bolets, and is 
 never the worse." 
 
 He laughed to himself at the priest who could 
 swallow the devil without indigestion. 
 
 At last we reached an open space whence no house 
 was to be seen, nor even a cultivated field, — not a 
 trace of humanity. The woods separated us from 
 the town and the lake, upon which a few craft were 
 always sailing. At our back was a rocky hill, half 
 covered with furze and brambles. A slender cascade 
 fell from the summit and was transformed at our feet 
 into a clear, noiseless rill. We were tramping 
 through bracken and a coarse grass, starred with 
 all the flowers of spring. The brook had given a 
 
140 THE HOUSE 
 
 rare exuberance to all this vegetation. The monot- 
 onous sound of the waterfall by no means disturbed 
 the solitude of the spot, at once wild and gentle and 
 so secluded. One might have thought oneself at the 
 very end of the earth — or at its beginning. I felt 
 at once happy and desolate. 
 
 I had of course taken many a walk with my father. 
 But he always took us to heights that commanded 
 a view; he would point out by name the moun- 
 tains on the edge of the horizon, the villages in the 
 plain below, the ports on both sides of the lake. He 
 made us feel that the earth was inhabited, and that 
 it was interesting and beautiful because it was in- 
 habited. Now I suddenly discovered the charm of 
 wild nature. 
 
 " What is its name.-' " I asked grandfather to re- 
 assure myself. 
 
 " The name of what? " he asked, not comprehend- 
 ing. 
 
 " The place where we are." 
 
 The question surprised him, and provoked a little 
 laugh that I did not enjoy. 
 
 " It has no name." 
 
 " Who owns it.? " 
 
 " Nobody." 
 
 Nobody! That was very strange. Just as the 
 house must always have belonged to us, I had sup- 
 posed that the whole earth was divided into prop- 
 erties. 
 
 " To us, if you like," grandfather went on. 
 
THE DESIRE 141 
 
 And his laugh, his terrible little laugh, began to 
 undermine my notions about life, my beliefs. It pro- 
 duced upon me the effect of the touch of the finger 
 that I used to give when I erected great buildings 
 with my blocks. The edifice grew higher, higher, — 
 I barely touched with my finger one of the columns 
 at the base, and down it all came. 
 
 " Oh, to us ! " I protested. 
 
 People were not to take possession of other peo- 
 ple's property like that, simply because they did not 
 know the owner's name. Everything that I had 
 been taught protested. 
 
 " Why, yes, little simpleton," he replied. " Every 
 one takes his own in the world. Do you like this bit 
 of land? It is yours, — like the sun that warms us, 
 the air that we breath, the loveliness of these early 
 spring days." 
 
 I was not convinced. Dim resistances awoke 
 within me, shivering; I found no words to express 
 them, and could only bring forward the poor ob- 
 jection : 
 
 " Yes, but I couldn't take anything from it." 
 
 " You take your pleasure from it, that's the im- 
 portant thing." 
 
 Confident of victory, he clinched it by invoking 
 the testimony of a third party. 
 
 " Jean-Jacques would explain to you better than 
 I can, that nature holds within itself the happiness 
 of man. Jean-Jacques would have loved this re- 
 treat." 
 
14£ THE HOUSE 
 
 He uttered the name J eavr Jacques with de- 
 vout unction, pursing his lips. He spoke of him as 
 Aunt Deen spoke of the best known and most useful 
 saints, Saint Christopher, for example, who protects 
 against accidents, or Saint Antony, who helps to 
 find lost objects. Puzzled, I at once asked: 
 " Who is that — Jean- Jacques ? " 
 " A friend ; a friend whom you do not know." 
 Why, I knew, or thought I knew, all grandfather's 
 friends. He received few visits, mostly from other 
 old men, who appeared older than he, who seemed to 
 be sad and who soon bored him. There was one who 
 would sit down without saying a word, and would 
 just sit a long time, motionless and mute. One day 
 grandfather forgot that he was there and left the 
 room. On his return he found him in the same place, 
 fast asleep. Grandfather would complain openly 
 about the visits of all these " old fogies " as he called 
 them, not one of whom, I was certain, was named 
 Jean-Jacques. On the other hand, he always liked 
 to come down to the drawing-room when he thought 
 he might meet ladies there. 
 
 Time pressing, we returned through the chestnut 
 grove, but went out on another side, passing through 
 a second hedge, this one of young acacias. It wsis 
 with manifest pleasure that I saw houses and culti- 
 vated fields again. 
 
 " Come ! here are private properties for you," said 
 grandfather when we reached the cultivated grounds. 
 
THE DESIRE 143 
 
 His lips curled with disdain. Not at all disconcerted 
 I asked for landmarks. 
 
 "Where is ours.'"' 
 
 "I don't know. Look over there, at the left. 
 You'll see it all right as we go on. As for me, when 
 I take a walk I go where fancy leads me. One al- 
 ways gets home somehow." 
 
 When we reached the highroad a strange and dis- 
 quieting apparition presented itself. I clung to my 
 new preceptor: 
 
 " Grandfather, look up the road ! " 
 
 It seemed to be coming toward us from over the 
 hill, with a slow uniform motion. In a few minutes it 
 would be here. Grandfather shaded his eyes with his 
 hands, the better to concentrate his vision, and ex- 
 plained the phenomenon: 
 
 " It's the sheep that leave Provence every spring 
 and go up to the high pastures. They are led there 
 by easy stages. Let us get to the side of the road, 
 beyond this pile of stones, and watch them go past." 
 
 Thus instructed, I was soon able to distinguish 
 between the almost white road and the yellow-grey 
 and brown flock which composed a single moving 
 mass, — repeated above all those regularly swaying 
 backs by a thin cloud of dust which spread over the 
 fields on either side. At once I saw again the pic- 
 ture in my Bible which showed Abraham travelling 
 to the land of Canaan. 
 
 In front of the flock marched a shepherd, wrapped 
 
144. THE HOUSE 
 
 in a great cape which must have Heen many a time 
 exposed to wind and rain, for it was of the greenish 
 colour of a thatched roof over which many winters 
 have passed. Notwithstanding the sun, his ample 
 covering appeared not to inconvenience him. No 
 doubt our sun was not as warm as that which he 
 had left behind. His hat pulled down over his eyes 
 cast a dark shadow over the upper part of his face, 
 only his grey beard being distinctly visible. He was 
 an old man, and he advanced slowly with a slight 
 swaying of the whole body. He might have been 
 taken for a beggar but for an unconscious air of 
 majesty which covered him like his cloak — that of 
 a captain leading his company, that of a sower sow- 
 ing his seed. He took no one step faster than an- 
 other, and the rhythm of his regular advance seemed 
 to communicate itself to the entire colimm. It gave 
 an impression as of the whole landscape follow- 
 ing, obeying in cadence a law which he fixed, the 
 oxen tracing the furrows, the reapers laying bare 
 the fields, the morning and the evening obedient to 
 the time of returning, and even the stars at night 
 traversing, unhastingly, a part of the sky which 
 I had thought I could see moving in grandfather's 
 spy-glass. 
 
 He seemed to me so important that I bowed to 
 him, but he did not return my salutation, nor deign 
 to detach his attention from his absorbing task. 
 Grandfather began a sentence: 
 
 " Tell me, shepherd . . ." but deemed it useless 
 
THE DESIRE 145 
 
 to go on, recognising the intense seriousness of the 
 man. 
 
 A black dog walked almost under his feet, and 
 behind came, in a triangular group, three lean, hair- 
 less donkeys, laden with objects which could not be 
 seen since they were covered with an awning. Their 
 heads hung almost to the ground as if they would 
 fain have snufFed it up, or browsed upon it. The 
 main body of the army followed them, the sheep- 
 people, crowding close to one another, eight or ten 
 in a row when one could manage to count them, but 
 most of the time the rows were indistinct, subject 
 to flux and reflux, the great mass of wool undulat- 
 ing as if it were that of a single rampant and in- 
 terminable animal, over which continual shivers 
 passed. 
 
 I did not at first distinguish anything in this uni- 
 form and agitated mass. Then I noticed little 
 black spots that were ears. By degrees, as I 
 got used to them, certain individualities emerged 
 from the compact, monotonous throng. There were 
 rams, generally taller, with long horns rolled in a 
 circle, and bells hanging from their necks by a 
 wooden horseshoe shaped collar. There were sheep 
 with white or black coats, better cared for than the 
 others, walking with a certain ostentation. There 
 were also vagabond animals, capricious as goats, 
 which would gladly have escaped from the road but 
 for the vigilance of the dogs that operated on the 
 flanks of the procession, long-haired grey dogs, with 
 
146 THE HOUSE 
 
 eyes shining from cavernous depths under overhang- 
 ing brows, attentive and active, not to be by any 
 means distracted from their duty as sergeants. One 
 of the sheep climbed upon the stones that protected 
 us, and was immediately imitated by several of her 
 companions. One of the guardians, open-mouthed, 
 cut short the escapade, and forced them to return 
 to their proper place. 
 
 They passed and they passed. I thought they 
 would never be done, estimating their number at sev- 
 eral thousands. Perhaps there really were three or 
 four hundred of them. At last the flood slackened, 
 the ranks grew thinner, seven or eight isolated sheep 
 closed the procession. Last of all came the rear- 
 guard, composed of four pack mules and a second 
 shepherd, less august and solemn than the first. 
 When he had come opposite us grandfather, grown 
 braver, put the question to which the other one had 
 paid no heed: 
 
 " Well, shepherd, where are you going like that? " 
 
 He was a young man, supple, thin and muscular, 
 wearing a short jacket, red sash, and hat on the 
 back of his head, — one who cared neither for heat 
 nor cold. His bronzed face was exposed to the full 
 rays of the sun. He was whistling to pass away the 
 time, and smiling while he whistled, as if he enjoyed 
 his music — though perhaps it was the curve of his 
 lips that made him look as if he were smiling. 
 
 At grandfather's question he burst into a frank 
 laugh ; his teeth shone between his lips — such teeth 
 
THE DESIRE 147 
 
 as I had seen in wolves or other wild beasts in a 
 menagerie to which I was once taken. He simply 
 replied : 
 
 " To the mountain." 
 
 How strange the resonance that certain syllables 
 have for us ! He might have designated by its name 
 the mountain where his flocks were to pasture, and 
 I should not have noticed it, but the unexpected lack 
 of precision communicated to me by some sorcery 
 a longing for the heights. It attacked me as sud- 
 denly and unexpectedly as a lightning shock. I had 
 not felt the charm of the wild, bare place from which 
 I was returning with grandfather ; but now I was not 
 only instantaneously initiated into it, — I augmented 
 its wUdaess and isolation. I felt upon my brow a 
 colder, sterner breath, the wind of summits which I 
 had never seen. Later in my life poems and sym- 
 phonies have given me this imaginary sensation, 
 though more faintly. In each discovery that it 
 makes the heart, like a virgin, gives of its freshness. 
 
 Before the passing of the sheep I had managed 
 to discover where we were. Notwithstanding its 
 surrounding trees, I had proudly recognised the 
 house below us in the edge of the town. It had al- 
 ways appeared very large to me, vast as a kingdom, 
 and now I seemed to find it small and insignificant, 
 simply because I had heard within me the music of 
 three words, " To the mountain." 
 
 A few years later it was my lot to climb over 
 mountains, those that are covered with pines and 
 
148 THE HOUSE 
 
 larches, and those whose only vegetation is ice, those 
 that are carpeted with grass, soft as rosy flesh, those 
 that are all bone and muscle, like Michel Angelo's 
 figures, and again those whose treacherous whiteness 
 only loses its immobility under the wanning glow 
 of the setting sun. They have taught me patience, 
 calmness, and perhaps also contempt, though one of 
 the most difficult of Christian precepts obliges us to 
 despise no man. There I have met and tasted by 
 turns war and peace, struggle and serenity, the in- 
 toxication of solitude and the glory of conquest in 
 the blinding splendour of the snow. They have 
 •never given me anything that was not contained in 
 germ in the shepherd's reply. 
 
 On our return home, when we opened the gate, there 
 were Tem Bossette and his two acolytes digging, 
 their faces bent on the ground. One of them having 
 perceived us, they rested with one accord, sure of 
 our complicity. 
 
 Aunt Deen congratulated me on my red cheeks; 
 mother thanked grandfather for his care of me. 
 Father asked: 
 
 "Did you enjoy it?" and rejoiced when I an- 
 swered in the affirmative. No one suspected, I least 
 of all, that that little boy, till then contented, and 
 never dreaming of anything outside of The House, 
 had brought desire home with him from his walk. 
 
in 
 
 THE DISCOVEEY OF THE EAKTH 
 
 That period of my life is quite luminous in my 
 memory: only later it seems as if the sun must have 
 been a little dimmed. I walked out with grandfather 
 morning and evening, I came into closer relations with 
 nature, and I had a new suit of clothes. It was the 
 first. Up to that time I had worn those of my elder 
 brothers cut down to fit me. A seamstress used to 
 come to the house to alter and mend the garments des- 
 tined for me. She was as homely as heart could wish, 
 and had been recommended by Mile Tapinois, who 
 flattered herself that she had formed her in her work- 
 rooms. 
 
 I had grown rapidly during my illness. What 
 
 was then my surprise when I was informed that a 
 
 tailor, a real tailor, was coming to take my measures, 
 
 mine, not Bernard's nor Stephen's ! The tailor's 
 
 name was Plumeau. Tall and thin as a lath, he 
 
 floated in an immense frock coat. Did he propose, 
 
 like God when he created man, to make me in his 
 
 own image and after his likeness .P He fabricated 
 
 for me a full suit of olive green which emphasised 
 
 my leanness, to which end he had neglected nothing. 
 
 The coat, rivalling an overcoat, reached to my knees ; 
 
 149 
 
150 THE HOUSE 
 
 the cloth was of a solidity calculated to defy time. 
 It was very evident that I had a suit that would last 
 till I took my baccalaureate. I somehow had the 
 impression that it favoured me too much, and my 
 vanity rebelled. The whole family had been sum- 
 moned to see me in my new suit, and ratify its ac- 
 ceptance. I was constrained to turn round and 
 round like a horse in the market, and my rebellious 
 face became almost as long as my coat. 
 
 " It will do," father finally pronounced. 
 
 It would do.'' Yes, in two or three years, when 
 I had grown a great deal more. Mother was cau- 
 tious about speaking too approvingly. My brothers 
 kept silence, but I perceived that they were smother- 
 ing their laughter, a self-denial which Louise by no 
 means exercised. Aunt Deen saved the situation 
 which was becoming painful. She arrived late upon 
 the scene, for she had been putting to rights in the 
 tower chamber when notified of the arrival of M. 
 Plumeau. We heard her on the stairs before we saw 
 her. Hope at once revived. Her coming was like 
 the arrival of fresh troops upon the field of battle 
 — she decided the fortunes of the day. 
 
 Hardly had she perceived me, lost in my new suit, 
 when she cried: 
 
 "It's admirable, Francis; I won't keep it from 
 you; never have I seen any one so becomingly 
 dressed." 
 
 Every one drew a long breath and I was com- 
 forted; so greatly, indeed, that, unwilling to part 
 
THE DISCOVERY OP THE EARTH 151 
 
 with my fine garments, I put them on for our next 
 walk. Grandfather did not notice. But at the gate 
 Aunt Deen overtook us all out of breath. 
 
 " Naughty boy ! " she exclaimed, " putting on your 
 best clothes for a walk ! " 
 
 She almost undressed me with her own hands in 
 the street; I must needs go back to the house under 
 her escort, to exchange my costume for less distin- 
 guished raiment, and the walk that day was spoiled. 
 But those that came afterward made it up to me. 
 
 There was the forest and there was the lake. . . . 
 
 The forest, with certain farms and vineyards, 
 made part of a historic domain, the chateau of which, 
 after enduring sieges and entertaining great person- 
 ages of the army or the church, was half in ruins and 
 no longer habitable. The whole property belonged 
 to a retired colonel of cavalry, son of a Baron of the 
 Empire, whose fortune not being sufficient to keep 
 it up decently, he was permitting it to fall into de- 
 cay. He lived alone and spent the whole day riding 
 about on one or another of his old horses, without 
 ever going beyond his estate. Though it was en- 
 tirely surrounded with a wall grandfather and I used 
 to find our way in by breaches which we had dis- 
 covered. 
 
 He led me about among the trees, taught me to 
 distinguish their characteristics, and encouraged me 
 to sit down under their shade, on the moss and 
 not on the treacherous benches which we perceived 
 
152 THE HOUSE 
 
 sparsely scattered here and there, the woodwork of 
 which was rotten with damp. Grass was growing 
 in the alleys, which under over-arching trees guided 
 the gaze to portals of light, that seemed on one side 
 to be blue, because of the lake which they framed in. 
 
 It was the month of June. A thousand tones of 
 green were mingling, marrying, all around us, from 
 the pale green of the parasite mistletoe to the almost 
 black of the ivy which climbed the oak trunks. 
 Spring was singing its whole gamut around us. 
 And under the trees there still remained heaps of 
 red leaves, vestiges of the former season. 
 
 I felt a vague fear at being thus alone, we two, 
 amidst so imposing and silent an assembly, and I 
 tried to talk, in order to make our presence there 
 seem more real. 
 
 " Hush ! " said grandfather ; " be still and listen." 
 
 Listen to what? And yet, little by little, I began 
 to perceive a multitude of soft sounds. We were no 
 longer alone, as I had thought; innumerable living 
 things were all around us. 
 
 Far away two chaffinches were calling to one an- 
 other at regular intervals. The more distant one 
 took up softly the couplet which the other was pour- 
 ing forth from a full throat. From tree to tree the 
 latter drew nearer. I saw him, my eye met his — so 
 little and round! As I did not stir, he remained. 
 But what could be those dull, reiterated blows? 
 Woodpeckers, tapping the trunks with their bills. 
 
 Long bands of light glided here and there between 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 153 
 
 the branches and lay upon the ground ; in their rays, 
 which brought out the shapes of the leaves, spiders' 
 webs were swinging, their finest threads plain to see, 
 and wasps, buziing as they flew about. At last I 
 could even hear the rustling of the grass ; — the se- 
 cret labour of the earth under the influence of heat. 
 I was discovering a life of which I had never dreamed. 
 
 " What is that call, grandfather? " I asked in a 
 low tone. 
 
 " It must be a hare ; let's hide, and perhaps, if 
 you are very quiet, we shall see it before long." 
 
 Upon this dialogue we softly dragged ourselves 
 behind a bush. I knew hares only from having eaten 
 of them on rare occasions of ceremony, though Aunt 
 Deen deplored giving rabbit to children, because of 
 the soiling of napkins and faces. The cry sounded 
 again — nearer us this time. 
 
 " He is calling his doe," whispered grandfather. 
 
 " His doe.? » 
 
 " Yes, his wife. Be quiet." 
 
 It was a gentle call, infinitely tender and lan- 
 guishing. Far away we heard another call, like it, 
 but hardly audible. From opposite sides of the for- 
 est the duet went on; and I began to understand 
 that animals, like people, love to see and talk to 
 one another. Suddenly, before me, crossing the 
 path, I saw two long ears and a little ball of a brown 
 body which seemed to bound over it. At the very 
 edge the hare stopped, hearkened to the distant, guid- 
 ing voice, once again uttered his heartbreaking cry. 
 
154 THE HOUSE 
 
 and disappeared in the neighbouring vmderbrush. 
 He was hastening to join his mate, but I had had 
 time to see him quite plainly. 
 
 Another time it was a fox. He must have scented 
 us with his pointed muzzle, for he fled at top speed, 
 his tail between his legs. Being learned In such mat- 
 ters through La Fontaine's fables, and the " Scenes 
 in Animal Life," I informed grandfather that this 
 was a plot and it would be well for us to make off. 
 
 " How stupid you are ! " he exclaimed. " The fox 
 Jls_Jig,rmless." 
 
 At which I was somewhat scandalised. But our 
 walks were not always calm to this degree. From 
 our favourite nook we sometimes heard, like a heavy 
 rain, the galloping of a horse, and we would hardly 
 manage to hide behind the trunk of a beech, when 
 the colonel would appear, on horse-back. He had 
 a short nose, a stiff moustache and hollow cheeks. 
 He sat upright, knees out, looking at nothing, and 
 as he passed he seemed to me a fearful man. Grand- 
 father hastened to reassure me. 
 
 " He's an old beast," he said, " and his mount can't 
 trot any longer." 
 
 I later learned that both had fought at Reich- 
 hoffen. 
 
 But on a graver occasion grandfather himself gave 
 the signal for retreat. I saw him cock his ear after 
 the fashion of the hare, then rise hastily from the 
 grass on which we were sitting. 
 
 " Dogs," he murmured, fearfully. " Let's go." 
 
THE DISCOVERY OP THE EARTH 155 
 
 We made for the wall as fast as his old legs and 
 my too-new ones would permit. The dogs were al- 
 ready rushing upon us, barking and threatening, 
 when grandfather, who had pushed me before him, 
 reached the top. The alarm had agitated him and 
 our safety by no means pacified him. 
 
 " Pretty proprietors ! " he fulminated ; " a little 
 more and their dogs would have devoured us ! " 
 
 Their ferocity furnished him the material for a 
 lesson; he turned toward me: 
 
 " You see, my boy, men become wicked in towns, 
 like apples that rot when they are heaped together. 
 And then they turn round and pervert animals ! " 
 
 In truth I could have brought forward two oppos- 
 ing arguments; the isolation of their estate and 
 the ferocious nature of their beasts. He granted 
 only the second, and overturned that in the next 
 breath : 
 
 " You have seen the chaffinch, the hare and the 
 fox. In their natural state they are incapable of 
 doing harm. Tamed, all beasts sooner or later be- 
 come dangerous, perfidious, ferocious and false. 
 Well! it's just the same with men! Free, they are 
 kind and generous. Brutalised by discipline, like 
 that old soldier, they become terrific ! " 
 
 Never had he spoken so much at length, nor, to 
 my mind, so enigmatically. No doubt the emotion 
 caused by the dogs had made him forget, in a di- 
 rect way, the promise my father had exacted from 
 him. I was surprised at his eloquence, for which 
 
166 THE HOUSE 
 
 nothing had prepared me, and I at once drew prac- 
 tical conclusions from it. I had been brought up 
 to believe in the benefits of authority ; that of parents 
 and school teachers. And now it appeared that to 
 be good one must obey nobody. 
 
 This adventure disgusted us with "our" forest, 
 and we frequented less extensive and more peaceful 
 pieces of woods, preferably those situated on the 
 communal lands, all the more agreeable to grand- 
 father because of his hatred of private property. Ac- 
 cording to him, property was the great obstacle to 
 human happiness, but I hesitated to adopt his views ; 
 I was pretty fond of owning things — for which he 
 cared not at all. 
 
 As he had promised at the time of our first walk, 
 he communicated to me his knowledge of mushrooms, 
 the round-stemmed fleshy bolet, its dome the colour 
 of a not quite ripe chestnut, the laseras, most beau- 
 tiful of mushrooms, like an egg of which the shell 
 has just been broken, the yellow, flower-shaped chan- 
 terelle were his favourites. I saw him bite, like the 
 priest whose story he had told me, one of those Satan 
 bolets, which turns blue when it is cut, the gash at 
 once taking on the appearance of a frightful wound. 
 Taught by Aunt Deen's contagious fears, I was per- 
 suaded that his lips also would soon turn blue. I 
 gazed at him all terror and curiosity, seeking for 
 the symptoms of danger. But he digested his poi- 
 son with marvellous ease. 
 
 " You see," he observed in triumph, " the worthy 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 157 
 
 priest for once was right. Nature is a mother 
 to us." 
 
 Emboldened by this experiment, I gathered from 
 the bushes some red berries that were very pleasing 
 to the eye, but which gave me a sharp colic. 
 Grandfather must be a bit of a sorcerer. 
 
 If ever we brought home from our hunt a handker- 
 chief full of cryptogams, Aunt Deen, suspicious, 
 would not fail to cry out: 
 
 " Those horrors again ! " 
 
 She would look them over most carefully, keeping 
 only those that were notoriously good to eat; she 
 excelled in cooking them in butter, or preparing them 
 as an hors-d'oeuvre, with a sauce of wine, salt, pepper 
 and herbs, and a dash of vinegar. Thus prepared 
 the little balls, fresh, white and crisp, melted in the 
 mouth. Now that I gathered them I, too, began 
 to eat them. 
 
 I avenged myself of my hurtful berries by the 
 strawberries and whortleberries that I found among 
 the moss. I loved to fill my hand with them and then 
 lick them up as goats do salt when it is given them. 
 It is true that indigestible things had been forbid- 
 den me ; the notion of duty was beginning to change 
 in me, and I preferred to trust to that mother na- 
 ture so much praised by grandfather, and whom he 
 only had to invoke to be fed to heart's content. 
 Grandfather was constantly lauding her, offering to 
 her litanies of eulogiums. And yet he ridiculed the 
 chaplet that Aunt Deen and mother used to recite! 
 
158 THE HOUSE 
 
 And he took every opportunity to Instil into me an 
 aversion to towns and love for the delights of the 
 fields. Cities, he said, were full of ferocious, greedy 
 folk, who would murder ^ou for a piece of money, 
 whereas in a village men lived peaceful and happy, 
 and loved one another with brotherly love. 
 
 One day a peasant invited us into his half ruined 
 arbour to eat one of those white cheeses over which 
 they pour sweet cream. A bowl of wood strawber- 
 ries accompanied this frugal and innocent repast. 
 They made so delicious a mixture that I was inclined 
 to believe blindly in universal happiness, provided, 
 indeed, that every one would consent to leave the 
 plague and leprosy infected city. In the country 
 every one was kind, obliging and free into the bar- 
 gain. We would have no more enemies. Aunt 
 Deen's they existed only in her old-woman's imagina- 
 tion. Her ideas were narrow, she did not, like 
 grandfather, rise above petty, everyday cares. I 
 was peaceful, devout, disarmed. And now I knew 
 the flower of rural pleasure, of which I have never 
 lost the flavour. 
 
 " Stuff yourselves," said our host genially ; " the 
 doctor cured me of chills and fever." 
 
 We owed his kindliness to my father, but we pre- 
 ferred to suppose it the usual thing by way of veri- 
 fication of our theories. JHaving stuffed myself only 
 too well, in fact, I suffered from indigestion on the 
 way home, aggravated by grandfather's unkindly 
 humour. 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 159 
 
 " You will not boast of this," he observed, when 
 I was relieved. 
 
 I understood the significance of his advice, and 
 resolved to preserve a prudent silence which would 
 shield us in any whim we might indulge in future 
 excursions. We reached home late: the want of 
 punctuality seemed to me an elegant indifference. 
 Why dine at one hour rather than at another? One 
 could even do without dinner entirely, if one's stom- 
 ach was full of white cheese and cream. Grandfather 
 explained where we had been and extolled peasant hos- 
 pitality in choice terms. 
 
 " Ah, yes," cried father, " you happened upon 
 that rascal Barbeau. I think I did save him from 
 death. He lives mostly by poaching and smuggling 
 and owes me his bill yet. I am just as willing he 
 should not pay it. The colour of his money is not 
 clean." 
 
 I considered that he was too severe upon so polite 
 and generous a man. We went again to visit Bar- 
 beau, and were received by his wife. She was an 
 aged, grey, gnarled, blear-eyed woman, who found 
 nothing better to offer us than a miserable crust 
 of gruyere cheese, which greatly vexed us. She said 
 nothing as to her husband's occupation but pursed 
 up her lips to confide to us the fine places that her 
 sons enjoyed. The eldest was postman in town, the 
 second an employe at the railway station, and as 
 for the third, oho! he was earning thousands and 
 hundreds. 
 
160 THE HOUSE 
 
 "Waiter in a hotel in Paris, Monsieur Ram- 
 bert, waiter in a furnished hotel. He sends us 
 money." 
 
 " Bad trade," observed grandfather. 
 
 " There is no bad trade," insisted the old woman. 
 " The one thing is to get money." 
 
 "And you have none left.-'" 
 
 " Surely not, — there is none left. There is no- 
 body any more who eats chestnuts and drinks cider, 
 Monsieur Rambert. As for the land, see! I spit 
 upon it ! " 
 
 And the old hag did in fact spit upon the grow- 
 ing grain, now a pale green about to change to 
 gold, which grew close around her hovel. One would 
 have said that she was banning aU the countryside. 
 
 It did not occur to me that this grain was the 
 flour which at our house was blessed before being 
 kneaded into dough, the bread which my father 
 never cut before tracing upon the loaf the sign of 
 the cross. All I saw was a disgusting act and in- 
 voluntarily I laid down my share of the cheese which 
 I had been eating without pleasure. 
 
 " Let's go," said grandfather abruptly. 
 
 Mother Barbeau's remarks vexed him. At least I 
 had no attack of nausea this time. 
 
 After this conversation he abandoned agricultural 
 life for a time and decided to take me to the lake 
 which we had not yet explored. He led me thither 
 with no enthusiasm. 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 161 
 
 " It is a closed-in water," he said contemptuously. 
 
 Were there open waters then? Of course — there 
 was the sea. Until now the word had not impressed 
 me and I attributed no meaning to it. When the 
 mist hid the opposite shore the lake used to seem 
 endless, and I heid heard people around me say, " it's 
 like the sea." I had paid no attention. Grand- 
 father's disdainful description brought to my imag- 
 ination by contrast a free immensity. Later, when 
 at last I saw the sea — it was at Dieppe, from the 
 top of the cliff — I felt no surprise. It was simply 
 an open water. 
 
 " Would you like a row .'' " grandfather asked one 
 day. 
 
 Would I! I desired it all the more because such 
 an expedition represented to me in some sort a sub- 
 stitution of the individual life for the family life. 
 My parents had forbidden me to go out in a boat, 
 after the fall into the water which had brought on 
 my pleurisy. They were afraid both of the damp- 
 ness and of my awkwardness. Once again, then, 
 I was the fair child who had escaped from, his mother's 
 arms. The maMen with golden wings who enticed 
 me was my own good pleasure. 
 
 We took a canoe and rowed out of the port. 
 Grandfather, who used the oars irregularly (which 
 by no means reassured me), soon laid them down and 
 left us to float. 
 
 " Where are we going.'' " I asked, somewhat un- 
 easily. 
 
162 THE HOUSE 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 Uncertainty increased the mystery of the water. 
 I amused myself with leaning over the gunwale, and 
 dipping my hands in the water. The cold caress 
 it gave me and the small danger we were encounter- 
 ing, or which I thought we were encountering, gave 
 me a mingled but very exciting sensation. 
 
 What was the meaning of these brief flashes of 
 silver which were lighted on the surface and at once 
 went out.'' Around their dying spark a circle ap- 
 peared, which grew ever larger and finally was lost. 
 It was made by fish which came up to breathe. One 
 of them, quite near, showed his little mouth and the 
 shining scales on has head. I had come into contact 
 with a new world — the submarine world. 
 
 When the wind began to blow grandfather would 
 make me sit in the bottom of the boat, upon the 
 boards, which would be pretty wet. From thence, 
 being still not tall, I could perceive nothing but the 
 sky. I could the better discern its dome and on 
 fine days the continuous vibration of the ether. 
 While grandfather was dreaming I would sit there 
 motionless and happy. I formed the habit of being 
 excessively happy without knowing why, as if ex- 
 istence had no limits and no purpose. 
 
 Grandfather made friends also with the fisher- 
 men who were setting their nets. 
 
 " They are good fellows," he would say ; " the lake 
 is like the country. As man leaves the city he ap- 
 proaches the happy state of nature." 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 163 
 
 We came to know the manners of the trout, the 
 perch, the voracious pike and the char, the flesh of 
 which is as savoury as the pink flesh of the salmon. 
 
 " Aha ! " said one of these artless fishermen j oy- 
 fuUy, " aU my char is engaged by the Bellevue Ho- 
 tel. We rake it in night and day. They are the 
 customers for my money." 
 
 Thus was I initiated into the life of the land and 
 the water. Grandfather began to be interested in 
 my progress in the friendship of nature. He had 
 a disciple whom he had not sought. I was the 
 first now to turn my back upon the town, leap over 
 walls, cross the fields without the slightest care for 
 the crops. He treated me as an heir, or a child 
 worthy of being one of those sluggard kings who 
 possess the world. And one hot day in July, after 
 we had painfully climbed a hillock whence one could 
 overlook the plain, the forest and the lake, he began 
 to laugh at a notion that had occurred to him. 
 
 " You know, my boy, they think I have nothing, 
 that I am just one of those clatter-clogs that shuffle 
 along the road with a tramp's bundle on his back. 
 What a joke! There is no landed proprietor richer 
 than I — do you hear? " 
 
 His words did not surprise me. I had lost that 
 notion of mine and thine that divides riches from 
 poverty. 
 
 " This water, these woods, these fields," he went 
 on, " all these are mine, I never take any care of 
 
164 THE HOUSE 
 
 them, and they are mine all the same." And like an 
 act of investiture he laid his hand upon my head, 
 saying: 
 
 " They are mine ; I give them to you." 
 
 It was a playful, unceremonious presentation. 
 Both of us amused ourselves with the idea. And 
 yet, in spite of our laughter, I had a very clear im- 
 pression that the world did in fact belong to me. 
 I would no longer consent to have a small, narrow 
 place in the world. 
 
 As we were going down from our hilltop we met 
 upon the road a young woman who lived in a villa 
 in the neighbourhood. She wore a white gown which 
 left her forearms and neck bare, and on her head 
 was a hat decorated with red cherries. Her para- 
 sol, a little behind her, made an aureola or back- 
 ground for a face which was as clear cut and deli- 
 cate as one of those magnolia flowers in the garden 
 that I loved for their colour, odour and form as 
 of white birds with outspread wings. Still I should 
 not have noticed her if grandfather had not stopped, 
 riveted to the spot with admiration, and exclaimed 
 aloud, " How lovely she is ! " 
 
 The fair face crimsoned. But the young woman 
 smiled at the too direct homage. I looked at her 
 then, and so fixedly that I have never forgotten that 
 vision, not even the cherries. But I made my reser- 
 vations. To me she seemed already old, perhaps 
 thirty. That is an advanced age in the pitiless eyes 
 of a child. Her flower-like complexion made me 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 165 
 
 think of that avowal of the nightingale from which 
 one day when I was reading the " Scenes in Animal 
 Life," I had drawn a fitful melancholy : I am m love 
 with the Rose — I strewn my throat all the night 
 long for her, but she sleeps, and hears me not. And 
 for the first time, and not without a secret anticipa- 
 tion, I associated an unknown woman with a yet 
 more unknown love. 
 
 After this incident grandfather led me to a wooded 
 slope where we had never been, and which he had 
 represented to me as without interest when I pro- 
 posed it as the object of a walk. We had to cross 
 a little brook before reaching its foot. On the way 
 he was self-absorbed and said not a word. At the 
 top he turned to the east and led the way directly 
 to a pavilion near a farm house but half-hidden in a 
 clearing. 
 
 " There it is," he said. 
 
 I understood that he was not speaking to me. 
 This pavilion, one story abbve the ground floor, ap- 
 peared to be in a miserable condition. The roof 
 lacked slates, a surrounding gallery was rotting 
 away. It must have been long since abandoned. 
 Grandfather delighted in its ruinous and uninhab- 
 itable condition, — a thing which would have sur- 
 prised me more if I had not grown accustomed to his 
 whims. 
 
 " So much the better," he murmured ; " there is 
 no one there." 
 
166 THE HOUSE 
 
 Returning to the farmhouse he perceived an old 
 man who was warming himself upon a bench in the 
 sun and dipping soup from a pot with a wooden 
 spoon. With this old man he entered upon an in- 
 terminable conversation which bored me, but which 
 ended in some questions as to the pavilion. 
 
 " It is good for nothing but firewood," said the 
 peasant. 
 
 " There were people in it formerly," insinuated 
 grandfather. 
 
 " Formerly — a good many years ago." 
 
 Grandfather appeared to hesitate as to continuing 
 the conversation, but then resumed: 
 
 " Yes — a good many years ago. But you and 
 I were not bom to-day. Tell me, don't you remem- 
 ber a lady? " 
 
 I at once thought of the lady in white with the 
 cherries in her hat, and I summed up her figure in 
 that clearing, at the door of the pavilion. My im- 
 agination was already at work upon this new theme. 
 
 " Oh," said the old man, before swallowing the 
 spoonful that he held in his hand — " as for women, 
 I despise them." 
 
 A gleam of rage shot across grandfather's eyes, 
 and I thought he was going to overset the old man 
 and his pot. He at once cut short the conversation 
 without another word. But as he turned away he 
 took me to witness the beauty of the place. 
 
 " All the same. It's sweet and wild here. The trees 
 have hardly changed. They are all that is left." 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 167 
 
 I never learned the adventure of the pavilion. 
 But one day when we were passing the colonel's 
 tottering chateau another memory, less direct no 
 doubt, awoke in his mind and without preparation 
 he began : 
 
 " They caUed her the beautiful Alixe." 
 
 "Who, grandfather?" 
 
 " She lived there. It was under the Empire." 
 
 "You saw her, grandfather?" 
 
 " Oh, I ; no ! That's too long ago. I am speak- 
 ing of the first Emperor. Those who had seen her 
 were old when I was young. Those who had seen 
 her were bursting with pride merely at mentioning 
 her name." 
 
 These brief evocations of the past threw for me 
 a lovely veil of romance over our walks, which had 
 " happened," like history. 
 
 He never said more about either, as I expected 
 him to do. He never supposed that I was watch- 
 ing his slightest words, and exaggerating their im- 
 portance. Save the white lady with the cherries in 
 her hat, who perhaps resembled, who doubtless re- 
 sembled, some far-away picture of his past, he greeted 
 women the most frankly in the world and never made 
 any remark about them. When, several years later, 
 one evening at school, I read the famous passage of 
 the Iliad about the old men of Troy being disposed 
 to forgive Helen because of her beauty, like that of 
 the immortal goddesses, while my comrades were doz- 
 ing over their Homer, I was seeing myself once more 
 
168 THE HOUSE 
 
 at my grandfather's side on the road by which the 
 lady in white came to us. And ever since I have 
 called that unknown one Helen. 
 
 Grandfather, who began to enjoy our friendship, 
 consented to receive me in the tower chamber. He 
 took no notice of my presence, however, now envel- 
 oping me with the smoke of his pipe, and again play- 
 ing upon his violin, the notes of which mingled in my 
 mind with the forest, the lake and aU our secret re- 
 treats. That room was to me a continuation of my 
 free out-of-door life. On stormy days, very rare 
 in the course of that bright summer predicted by 
 Mathieu de la Drome, I used to watch the falling 
 rain and the changing skies, luUed and softened by 
 this spectacle of the uselessness of things. When 
 the west was clear I could see the sun shooting into 
 the waters of the lake a pillar of fire, which by de- 
 grees was changed into a sword and finally was re- 
 duced to a golden point, the reflection of the star 
 resting upon the shoulder of the mountain, which 
 was what the sun became for one second before it 
 disappeared. In the evenings, after dinner, I used 
 to obtain the favour of looking at the constellations 
 through the telescope. As his former room had 
 faced the south, grandfather, as I have said, was 
 acquainted with only half the heavens, and refused 
 to puzzle out the other half. Therefore I knew only 
 Altair and Vega, Arcturus and the Virgin's sheaf, 
 which may be seen in the south in July. I was 
 
THE DISCOVERY OF THE EARTH 169 
 
 obliged to lean out to distinguish Antares on the 
 edge of the roof. The other months all is confused 
 to my eyes, and the same if I look toward the north. 
 
 The household was pleased with my new regimen. 
 More than once father asked of grandfather: 
 
 "Truly, the boy doesn't inconvenience you?" 
 
 " Oh, not at all," grandfather would invariably 
 reply. 
 
 And father would express his gratitude for my 
 recovered health, Aunt Deen would declare that I no 
 longer had my papier-mache face, and would rub 
 my cheeks to make them redder. My mother saw 
 in grandfather's affection a guarantee of peace and 
 reconciliation. As for me, life had been insensibly 
 changed. School, lessons, emulation, regular hours, 
 work — all that no longer existed. I had only to 
 turn my back upon the town and give myself up to 
 lovely nature. I felt that, though I cannot explain 
 it, at once clearly and confusedly: confusedly in my 
 mind and clearly as a matter of practice. 
 
 And yet, on our return from our walks, grand- 
 father would pretty often simply bring me back as 
 far as the gate, and slip away in the direction of the 
 accursed city. 
 
IV 
 
 THE CAFE or THE NAVIGATOKS 
 
 Wheke did grandfather go after bringing me back 
 to the house? To the cafe, and one day he took me 
 there. 
 
 I did not know precisely what a cafe was, and I 
 was secretly afraid of it. Father used to speak of 
 cafes in a tone of contempt which admitted no con- 
 tradiction, no favourable reservation. When he 
 said of any one, " he spends his time at the cafe," or 
 " he is a pillar of the cafe," that some one was 
 judged and condemned: he wasn't worth the rope 
 to hang him. I could not have imagined my father 
 entering one. Such audacity on the part of grand- 
 father surprised me the less, since I had already no- 
 ticed that in everything he took the opposite view 
 from my father. 
 
 We went to the cafe instead of going to walk, 
 one very warm morning; this seemed to me a sort 
 of outrage, as we were doubly failing in the course 
 marked out for us. Its name appeared in letters 
 of gold, Caf6 of the Navigators; the inscription 
 being framed in with billiard cues. Pleasantly sit- 
 uated on the shore of the lake, it was composed of 
 
 a long arbour whence one could see the port, and a 
 
 170 
 
THE CAFE OF THE NAVIGATORS 171 
 
 great room whence one could see nothing. We 
 chose the room; to me it seemed most luxurious be- 
 cause of its mirrors and white marble tables. Two 
 or three groups were conversing, smoting, drinking, 
 and I was at once nearly choked by a pungent odour 
 of tobacco mingled with the perfume of anisette. 
 Yet such was the attraction of the place that after 
 having coughed I found the combination pleasant. 
 We joined the least noisy group, who greeted grand- 
 father with transports of delight, calling him fa- 
 miliarly Father Ramhert: 
 
 Father Rambert here! — Father Rambert there! 
 
 They installed him on the sofa, in the middle seat, 
 and began by asking news of Mathieu de la Drome. 
 Grandfather replied that he was at " set fair " with 
 a tendency to rise, and that favourable winds would 
 probably keep him so; at which every one rejoiced, 
 on account of the vines ; the wine would be famous 
 if Mathieu continued to behave well. Presently I 
 perceived that the barometer was in question, and 
 that grandfather was consulted as to the weather 
 because of its prophecies. These gentlemen used 
 among themselves a conventional language to which 
 it was important to have the key, and which com- 
 plicated the conversation so far as I was concerned. 
 No one paid any attention to me, and I was still 
 standing, vexed at this neglect, when I was suddenly 
 addressed. 
 
 " Well, youngster, what will you take ? " 
 
 The appellative and the familiar tone com- 
 
172 THE HOUSE 
 
 pleted my displeasure. I drew myself up, and put 
 on a stern expression, but I remained " the young- 
 ster " to every one present. Grandfather with a 
 detached air replied with majesty: 
 
 "A green." 
 
 "With white wine.?" somebody asked. 
 
 " I am not a wine sack like you," retorted grand- 
 father. 
 
 The reply was received with enthusiasm. At The 
 House every one was particularly polite to a guest, 
 but these gentlemen here laid aside all ceremony in 
 their mutual relations. Meanwhile, the maid set be- 
 fore grandfather a number of things which she took 
 one by one from a tray: a tall, deep glass, a little 
 iron spade pierced with holes ; a sugar bowl, a caraffe 
 of water, and finally a bottle, the contents of which 
 I could not guess. There was a deep silence and 
 I received an impression of being present at a sol- 
 emn rite, which no one might disturb. Decidedly 
 their ways were all topsy-turvy: they treated one 
 another without courtesy, but they venerated the 
 drink. 
 
 Grandfather, his calm not in the least embar- 
 rassed by all the eyes fixed upon him, poured a quar- 
 ter of a glass of liquid from the mysterious bottle, 
 then pla*ced the perforated spade across the glass 
 and upon it two pieces of sugar in perfect equi- 
 librium, moistened them drop by drop until they 
 dissolved, after which he suddenly inclined the 
 carafFe. A pleasant odour of anise caressed my 
 
THE CAFE OF THE NAVIGATORS 173 
 
 nostrils. The mixture grew more clouded as the 
 water fell, like those beautiful opaque clouds that 
 lie along the horizon before the rain, and finally took 
 on a pale green tint which I had never met in our 
 walks. Immediately the talking began again : the op- 
 eration was completed. 
 
 At my new guardian's order they brought " the 
 youngster " a grenadine with a bottle of seltzer wa- 
 ter. The rite observed in this case was shorter and 
 not of sufficient importance to overcome the general 
 indiff'erence. The rival " green " enjoyed a par- 
 ticular celebrity. One discharge from the seltzer 
 bottle into the syrup which was languishing in the 
 bottom of the glass and my mixture rose up, frothy, 
 boiling, tossing, first light rose colour, then, after 
 the gases had been dissipated, a golden rose. What 
 touched me most was the straw that was given me 
 for imbibing it from a distance: one had only to 
 bend the head over and breathe it in. 
 
 Merely by that breath I was initiated into a higher 
 form of existence. Perfectly happy, I felt a great 
 desire to tell my neighbours so. They were sucking 
 up divers concoctions. Most of them had kindly, 
 rubicund faces, and eyes somewhat bleared. They 
 too. were all perfectly happy. Why had grandfather 
 taught me that people in towns were not happy.? 
 To become so, all they had to do was to go to the 
 cafe. 
 
 Among the heads which I was examining at leisure 
 and with entire sympathy was one which I thought 
 
174 THE HOUSE 
 
 I knew. It belonged to grandfather's left-hand 
 neighbour, the very one whom he had qualified as a 
 wine-sack. The face was sprinkled with red spots, 
 which, however, were hardly to be distinguished from 
 his blood-shot skin. Hair, beard and skin were all 
 of the same red colour which overspread his entire 
 head, even threatening the nose, which, the central 
 point of the spectacle, shone resplendent. In spite 
 of myself I thought of the picture in my Bible where 
 the prophet Elijah is being carried by a chariot 
 of fire into the glory of the setting sun ; but I re- 
 pelled the comparison as unseemly. Where could 
 I have seen that incandescent head.'' By degrees 
 my memories cleared themselves up. It had hap- 
 pened at our house: a man had come out from the 
 consulting room, not proud and flaming like him of 
 the cafe, but abashed, pitiful, discomfited. Yet it 
 must have been the same: that hairy skin, those red 
 blotches. I could not be mistaken. Father was es- 
 corting him out, and trying to encourage him, say- 
 ing, as he tapped him on the shoulder: 
 
 " Keep your money, friend. You are in a sense 
 a part of the house. Your parents and mine said 
 thou to one another. But you must quit drinking 
 at any cost. Promise me never again to set your 
 foot in a cafe." 
 
 " I swear to you I won't, doctor." 
 
 " Don't swear, but hold out." 
 
 "Yes, yes. I swear to you. Never in my life 
 shall I be seen in a wineshop." 
 
THE CAF^ OF THE NAVIGATORS 175 
 
 And yet here he was, drinking and laughing, and 
 as healthy as possible. Father was certainly too 
 severe. Forgetting that he had cured me, I in- 
 wardly blamed him for frightening people, finding in 
 him a certain hardness of heart. Why should he 
 wish to deprive this good fellow of his pleasure? 
 
 My rubicund friend answered to the name of 
 Casenave, but he was generally called by a symbol- 
 ical nickname — nothing other than " Pour-the- 
 drink," which might serve a double purpose. " Pbur- 
 the-drink " at once won my heart by the surprising 
 adventures through which he had passed: stories of 
 which he most unaffectedly poured forth. He might 
 have figured in the narratives of the " Three Old 
 Mariners," in which case his weight would assur- 
 edly have assured Jeremy's descent into the jaws 
 of the tiger. Having in his youth learned through 
 the newspapers of the idleness and good cheer which 
 inhered in the monkish estate, he resolved to adopt 
 it, and presented himself at the door of a Capuchin 
 monastery, where he soon learned to moderate his 
 hopes. To be routed out in the night by a barbarous 
 brother to take part in singing the service, to be 
 fed on vegetables half cooked by a brother suffering 
 from incurable catarrh, made him grow thin and 
 waste away. His ingenuity alone saved him from a 
 still greater disaster. When the monks, placed in 
 a circle, were invited to inflict the discipline upon 
 one another, piously reciting the penitential psalms 
 the while, he managed to get his rope so entangled 
 
176 THE HOUSE " 
 
 in that of his nearest fellow-sufFerer that while they 
 were deliberately disentangling them " the ' miserere ' 
 ran along." 
 
 But the prior declined to keep him, and gener- 
 ously restored him to civil life. He there formed the 
 most brilliant relations, which he proved to the ad- 
 miring listeners by telling of the beautiful women 
 who came every evening to visit him in his modest 
 abode. They used to come down through the ceil- 
 ing, in which, however, no aperture was afterward 
 visible. One moment he was alone, the next, there 
 they were in silk gowns and hoop skirts, for they 
 still adhered to the fashions of the Second Empire. 
 Far from remaining inactive, they would put into 
 his hands a bowl of reasonable dimensions, into 
 which, bending their arms, they would empty — 
 fz-z-z-z! — ■ several bottles of champagne. This 
 fz-z-z-z, which expressed the flowing of the wine into 
 the bowl, took upon his lips a caressing, musical 
 sound. One could almost hear the pop of the cork 
 and the bubbling out of the froth. 
 
 He imparted to us still more astounding biograph- 
 ical details. One night, mistaking the gas light in 
 the street for his candle, he had sprung out of the 
 window to blow it out, and had been picked up in 
 his nightshirt somewhat bruised but safe and sound. 
 And had he not a double who walked out with him? 
 Only the evening before he had had a long and most 
 interesting conversation with his double, who never 
 left him till they had returned to the outskirts of 
 
THE CAFE OF THE NAVIGATORS 177 
 
 the town, when he bade him good-bye till next time. 
 
 Every one listened without interrupting him, ex- 
 cept by signs of approval or requests to go on. 
 Why should I not believe all those marvellous things, 
 when no one around me showed the slightest sign of 
 incredulity? 
 
 I did not know the nature of Casenave's business, 
 for he could converse upon all subjects with great 
 competence, and might be supposed to have prac- 
 tised the most diverse industries. Whereas I very 
 soon discovered that two other members of the com- 
 pany — Gallus and Merinos — were distinguished 
 artists. Gallus, the musician, directed his remarks 
 especially to grandfather, as if only they two, in 
 the midst of the general imbecility, could understand 
 one another and fraternise in matters musical. The 
 pair affected to hold themselves apart, though in 
 their asides they appeared to utter only a few brief 
 cabalistic words : understanding thus established, they 
 would roll the whites of their eyes when one or the 
 other alluded to the allegro of the symphony in C 
 minor, the andante of the fourteenth sonata, or the 
 scherzo in B flat of the seventh trio, over which they 
 would clasp one another's hands as if in mutual con- 
 gratulation, calling it the Archduke Rodolpho's di- 
 vine trio. No one interrupted them in the state of 
 exultation to which a mere numeral was enough to 
 lift them ; at such times indeed every one gazed upon 
 them with respect. From time to time some one 
 would inquire of Gallus, somewhat diffidently, as if 
 
178 THE HOUSE 
 
 fearful of being pitied for not having used the proper 
 terms : 
 
 " How about your lyrical drama on the Death of 
 Olympus ? " 
 
 " It's getting on," the composer would reply im- 
 perturbably. 
 
 " How far along are you? " 
 
 " Still in the prelude. There is no hurry. A 
 lifetime is hardly long enough for the completion 
 of such a work and I have only been at it some ten 
 years." 
 
 It must be a prodigious opera that demanded 
 such efforts ! For that matter, one could see, 
 merely by looking at Gallus, that he was break- 
 ing down under the weight of so vast an undertak- 
 ing. His frame was puny, stunted, sickly, like a 
 pear tree that my father had ordered rooted up from 
 the court. A lock of hair fell across his stormy 
 brow, and when he passed his hand through his dis- 
 orderly locks a shower of scurf would fall upon his 
 shoulders. Though the season was warm he wore 
 a black velvet coat, and around his neck an enormous 
 blue scarf such as women wear, the spots upon 
 which were innumerable. All my aunt's benzine 
 would not have sufficed to clean them. But I told 
 myself that artists could not be expected to dress 
 like other folk, — for if they did they might not be 
 known to be artists. This dirty little man, who 
 looked peaceable enough, would sometimes fall into 
 a fury, and figuratively drag through mud and dirt 
 
THE CAPE OF THE NAVIGATORS 179 
 
 by the napes of their necks certain abominable crim- 
 inals such as Ambroise Thomas, and Gounod, who 
 were guilty of having fraudulently robbed him of 
 public admiration, and irremediably corrupted the 
 public taste. He also brought accusations against 
 the bourgeois of our town, whose plots and treach- 
 eries he enumerated at length. I observed that the 
 designation bourgeois was by itself alone a disgrace, 
 and I trembled at the thought that I was one, and my 
 father also. Only grandfather, stout against being 
 classified, might perhaps be spared. I afterward 
 learned that Gallus was by profession an examiner of 
 weights and measures. In its turn society in gen- 
 eral came in for severe condemnation ; but that it 
 deserved this I had already learned in the course of 
 my walks with grandfather. And thus I came to 
 know that my new friends of the cafe, whom I had 
 imagined to be even more fortunate than the peas- 
 ants with their white cheeses and their fresh cream, 
 were in reality persecuted martyrs. 
 
 How could I have the slightest doubt of this in 
 face of the injustice which had befallen the second 
 artist, Merinos? Whether this was his name or 
 a nickname I never knew. If a nickname, it miracu- 
 lously fitted his mutton face, at once long and full, 
 rosy as the cheeks of a nursing baby, and crowned 
 with curly hair. He vaguely resembled Mariette, 
 our cook, though without her martial aspect. But 
 these somewhat prepossessing features were liable 
 to misconstruction. Merinos was a ravaged soul. 
 
180 THE HOUSE 
 
 and I caught allusions to the extraordinary passions 
 which he had experienced. Up to this time I had 
 supposed that passion shoTfed itself by a lugubrious 
 face and tearful eyes, but he was shining and jovial, 
 with not a trace of tears in his protruding orbits, 
 though they were plain to see in those of Casenave, 
 Gallus and nearly all the others. Thus my childish 
 imagination found itself nonplussed. 
 
 Both Merinos and Gallus had lived long in Paris, 
 in the mysterious Montmartre quarter, of which both 
 spoke as of the promised land. Merinos was a por- 
 trait painter, but he had given up painting, a fact 
 for which he gave convincing reasons. 
 
 " You understand : now-a-days people make such 
 ridiculous demands. They insist upon a likeness. 
 As if the likeness ever mattered to an artist ! " 
 
 " That's sure enough," the chorus assented. 
 
 My mind at once reverted to the collection of an- 
 cestors that covered the walls of the drawing room 
 and that were bad paintings. Assuredly they must 
 be likenesses. 
 
 Thus defrauded of glory by the stupidity of the 
 bourgeois, Merinos none the less continued to give 
 evidence of genius. He always carried about with 
 him a piece of coloured paper and a stick of char- 
 coal. While talking and smoking he would care- 
 lessly rub his charcoal on the paper, and draw a few 
 lines belo\^ the spots thus obtained. It was curi- 
 ous, but when one studied these masterpieces pa- 
 tiently and with good will, one could get a notion of 
 
THE CAFE OF THE NAVIGATORS 181 
 
 distorted faces, barely indicated, but which the ad- 
 miring group recognised as faces in torment, ill dis- 
 posed folk, disturbers of society. Certain art-lovers 
 in the town — there were some all the same, it seemed 
 — ^ would buy these at a high price, declaring them 
 to be wonderful; and there was an enthusiastic and 
 slender witted lady, who, as every one knew, used 
 regularly to visit Merinos's studio, which, it ap- 
 peared, was a perfect dog-hole, humbly to gather up 
 his slightest sketches, even going down upon her 
 knees on the floor to hunt them under the furniture. 
 I too admired him, on trust. 
 
 One day when grandfather at our house was prais- 
 ing this underrated genius, he brought upon himself 
 this remark from my father: 
 
 " Yes, that's the great fad — unfinished Works ! 
 For my part, I care neither for scaffoldings nor for 
 ruins." 
 
 What did he mean by that? I concluded sim- 
 ply that he was incapable of appreciating, as we 
 did, the art of the Cafe des Navigateurs. 
 
 It was the proper thing to maintain a certain dis- 
 tance between these two misunderstood beings and 
 Galurin, who was only a decayed photographer. 
 The latter was no more a stranger to me than Cas- 
 enave had been. People used to employ him in their 
 houses for this and that supplementary duty, and 
 especially as an extra man at table. As he was 
 once deploring this sort of servitude in our pres- 
 ence grandfather reminded him that Jean-Jacques 
 
182 THE HOUSE 
 
 had endured the same. The example of Jean- 
 Jacques appeared to soothe his recalcitrant pride. 
 Who in the world was this Jean-Jacques, I wondered. 
 At our house they had given up taking advantage 
 of Galurin's services after a great dinner at which 
 he was put in charge of the wines, with instructions 
 to name them as he served them. He triumphantly 
 opened the dining-room door, waving the bottle in 
 the air and crying in stentorian tones, " I announce 
 the Moulin-a-vent " — an effort which was received 
 with a burst of laughter that wounded him, for he 
 was very sensitive. He abandoned the napkin and 
 became process-server, which coercive though some- 
 what obscure title seemed to be one of honour. To 
 add to his income he vouchsafed to carry around 
 wedding or funeral invitations when such occasions 
 occurred. One evening, before an important fu- 
 neral, he forgot himself at the Cafe of the Navigators, 
 and left the entire parcel of mourning invitations 
 upon the sofa. When he found them it was too late 
 to make his rounds. At once adopting the radical 
 measures which circumstances demanded, he hastened 
 to plunge the compromising parcel in the lake. As 
 the result of this immersion the defunct was obliged 
 to take possession of his last abode in almost com- 
 plete solitude. Never had such forlorn obsequies 
 been witnessed, and many coolnesses arose among 
 relatives and friends who had not received invitations, 
 and who were not slow to assume that they had been 
 purposely and maliciously neglected. 
 
THE CAFE OF THE NAVIGATORS 183 
 
 Galurin used to heap anathemas upon the social 
 system which constrained him to adopt such base 
 industries, the duties of which he performed but ca- 
 priciously and intermittently. Furthermore, he ad- 
 vocated the partition of all property, for he had 
 nothing of his own. 
 
 But the one who cast all others into the shade when 
 he took the floor, who excelled in transposing the in- 
 coherent lamentations of Gallus and Merinos and the 
 scatter-brained diatribes of Galurin into the rounded 
 forms of oratorical periods, was Martinod. Mar- 
 tinod, the youngest of all, had a marvellous gift of 
 gravity. Solemn by nature, he wore a long beard 
 and never laughed. One could easily imagine him 
 upon a mausoleum proclaiming the last judgment 
 through a conch-shell. The melancholy that em- 
 anated from his entire person enveloped him in all 
 the prestige of a grand funeral, the serious charac- 
 ter of which is not to be denied. In the beginning 
 I did not like Martinod. He never looked nice in 
 the face and I suspected him of dark designs. But 
 like all the others I fell under the spell of his utter- 
 ances. He would begin in a melancholy tone, which 
 would move one to tears. One might suppose him 
 to have but just escaped from a terrible catastrophe. 
 What a beggar he would have made, and how many 
 half-francs he would have extracted from the most 
 tightly closed fists! Then his voice would grow 
 deeper, opening hearts and minds, and from his in- 
 exhaustible lips would flow the most resonant har- 
 
184 THE HOUSE 
 
 monies. He would discant upon the future, a 
 golden age when equality would be the rule in every 
 sphere, — ^equality of fortune, equality of happi- 
 ness. Nothing would belong to any one, everything 
 would belong to all. I felt a degree of shame at 
 not understanding very well, because every one else 
 in our group understood and approved. And even 
 at the other tables people would stop drinking and 
 playing cards to listen. The picture which he drew 
 was admirably simple: men in their best clothes 
 praising nature and embracing one another like 
 brothers. Rapt in admiration, I would compare 
 him to my music box, the notes of which made a 
 dancer pirouette upon the cover. 
 
 At other times Martinod would be gloomy, bitter 
 and vindictive, heaping threats and sarcasms upon 
 the social fabric of the day, unless it were immedi- 
 ately made over after his ideas. In the name of lib- 
 erty he would give all Europe over to fire and sword. 
 I would listen in terror, but on the way home grand- 
 father would reassure me. 
 
 " He was out of humour to-day. To-morrow the 
 world will go better." 
 
 Thus the new and varied society with which I was 
 mingling appeared very different from that in which 
 until then I had been living at home or in school. 
 When we reached the house my cheeks would be full 
 of colour — they thought it was the good country 
 air. Grandfather had no need to counsel me to say 
 
THE CAFE OF NAVIGATORS 185 
 
 nothing about our visits to the Cafe of the Navigat- 
 ors. An infallible instinct warned me to say nothing 
 about them at our house. It was a secret between 
 him and me. We were accomplices. 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTKOVEESY 
 
 " You are in luck," my brothers would say to me 
 as they prepared to face the dreaded examinations 
 for the baccalaureate, bending from morning till 
 night over their books through all the trying July 
 heat ; " no school, no examinations, no possible fail- 
 ures for you." 
 
 " And no piano," Louise would add, for having 
 given evidence of an aptitude for music she had been 
 set to work at never-ending five-finger exercises. 
 
 Even little James, rebellious under his first les- 
 sons in reading and writing, confided to his insepara- 
 ble Nicola that when he was big he would do like 
 Fran9ois. 
 
 " What does Francis do ? " she would ask. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 The month of August drew on without awaking 
 
 that impatience which its approach had never failed 
 
 to arouse in me until this year; I even felt a selfish 
 
 regret as it came nearer. Vacation would rob me of 
 
 that superiority which convalescence had conferred 
 
 upon me, and would put me back into my place, the 
 
 common life. Or rather, I supposed it would do so, 
 
 being incompetent to measure the chasm that had 
 
 186 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 187 
 
 opened between the little boy that I had been yester- 
 day, and what I had now become. Some one had 
 measured it before me. 
 
 I had become much absorbed between my walks 
 and my visits to the Cafe of the Navigators, whither 
 grandfather, who was no longer happy without my 
 companionship, was taking me regularly. Though 
 I was rather unobservant of the acts and doings of 
 the family, I again became aware of an atmosphere 
 of anxiety at our house, and of secret conferences 
 that recalled to me the days when the destiny of our 
 property had been at stake. 
 
 Father's voice was penetrating, even when he mod- 
 erated it and believed himself to be speaking softly. 
 
 " We shall have no fortune to leave them," he was 
 saying. " We must neglect nothing in their educa- 
 tion. They must be armed for life." 
 
 We, armed.'' Why should we be armed? Noth- 
 ing was easier than life. I had outgrown wooden 
 swords, heroic biographies, epic stories. All I should 
 need would be a few tools for working in the ground, 
 which furnishes men abundantly with all they need. 
 One would harvest so much as was necessary, one 
 would live on white cheese, sweet cream and wild 
 strawberries, and listen to Martinod, preaching uni- 
 versal peace and proclaiming the arrival of the 
 golden age. How simple the programme ! What need 
 was there of arms? 
 
 Mother was answering father. 
 
 " You are right. We must neglect nothing. 
 
188 THE HOUSE 
 
 Their faith and their union will be their only for- 
 tune." 
 
 Far from being touched by this declaration of 
 principles, I was imagining the little laugh with 
 which grandfather would meet it, and one morn- 
 ing while combing my hair I practised my face in 
 assuming a satirical expression. 
 
 In conversations which I accidentally overheard, 
 the names of Parisian schools or lycees would recur, 
 those especially that prepared boys for the great 
 schools, Stanislas on Postoffice Street, Louis-le-grand 
 or Saint-Louis. My parents would have preferred 
 a religious institution, and in this Aunt Deen em- 
 phatically acquiesced. 
 
 " No godless school," she would exclaim. " All 
 the rascals come out of the lycees." 
 
 " Oho ! " grandfather would protest, greatly 
 amused at her vehemence. " I was educated in a 
 lycee." 
 
 He received his bouquet without a moment's de- 
 lay. 
 
 " And you are not worth so very much ! " 
 
 It is true that to soften the severity of her retort, 
 she went on, 
 
 " I must confess that you have become good for 
 something, now that you take the boy out walk- 
 ing." 
 
 Father, who seemed always to be glad of anything 
 which might bring him and grandfather together, 
 heightened the reluctant admission into praise. 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 189 
 
 " Yes, Pranfois owes his health to you. And all 
 these lovely walks that you are giving him will at- 
 tach him the more firmly to the region in which he is 
 to live, and which he will know the better because of 
 them." 
 
 As a matter of fact I felt myself entirely aloof 
 from the region and even from our house. What I 
 loved was the earth, the vast unnamed earth, and not 
 this place or that; most of all I loved the unculti- 
 vated places, the wild places in the woods, the copses, 
 the secret nooks, and in less degree the pasture lands, 
 any untilled, unsowed^ bit of earth. In the matter 
 of people, I had accepted grandfather's new gospel 
 which catalogued them as peasants and towns peo- 
 ple. The nice people were in the country, whereas 
 towns were inhabited by wicked individuals and 
 notably by bov/rgeois, who persecute men of genius 
 like my friends of the cafe. And in the towns were 
 the schools where you were reduced to a state of 
 slavery. 
 
 While I was giving myself up to these reflections 
 my mother's gaze had Tallen upon me ; it seemed to 
 me that she was reading my thoughts, and I blushed 
 — a proof that I was not unaware of my inward in- 
 subordination. 
 
 " He has grown quite robust," she said. " Could 
 he not begin gradually to take up his lessons? We 
 could arrange him a place in the garden, where he 
 would be in the out-door air, and yet not be entirely 
 idle. Idleness is never good." 
 
190 THE HOUSE 
 
 I was astounded to hear my mother uttering so 
 direful a proposition — my mother, so careful to 
 spare me all fatigue, so expert in nursing me, so 
 minute in her watchfulness! Decidedly, they had 
 changed parts; father had appeared suspicious of 
 my walks with grandfather, and now he was not only 
 authorising, he was encouraging them. 
 
 " No, no," he exclaimed, " pleurisy is too grave 
 a matter. He would still risk losing strength and 
 colour. See how well he looks now ! " adding aside 
 to mother, " Father is so happy in his little com- 
 panion! Since he has had charge of him he has 
 quite changed and grown younger. Haven't you 
 noticed it ? " 
 
 Mother, who always agreed with him, did not ex- 
 press her opinion. I divined that she was uneasy 
 about me, but why? Had she not rejoiced in my 
 good spirits and my round, rosy cheeks? Grand- 
 father never attempted to monopolise me; he took 
 me on his walks, and helped in that way, and in addi- 
 tion, he taught me a thousand things about trees, 
 mushrooms, botany: the things he knew were much 
 more interesting than the history, geography and 
 catechism that my teachers used to teach me. 
 
 Now that my attention had been attracted to 
 mother's uneasiness I continually noticed that she 
 was always following me like a shadow. At the bot- 
 tom of my heart I was pleased. Even a child loves 
 to inspire fear in those who love him ; it puts him at 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 191 
 
 a sort of vantage point, gives him a feeling as of 
 being a man, and understanding life better than a 
 weak woman can do. 
 
 One day mother was talking in her room with 
 Aunt Deen. I heard only the reply of the latter, 
 who never could conceal anything. 
 
 " Come, come ! my poor Valentine ; don't you go 
 to troubling your head about that good-for-nothing 
 boy. In the first place, I know perfectly what those 
 two talk to one another about — country things, the 
 pleasures of the fields, the peace of the earth, the 
 goodness of the animals ; all humbug, to be sure, but 
 what of that.'' It's just like poultices, — it can't do 
 any harm." 
 
 I had not the slightest doubt that they were talk- 
 ing of me, and I was not at all displeased at having 
 my share in the family interest, for in these days 
 there was a great deal of discussion about my broth- 
 ers, who, having graduated from school, would start 
 for Paris in the autumn, Bernard for the military 
 school at Saint-Cyr, and Stephen, who was not yet 
 sixteen, to complete his studies in mathematics, un- 
 less indeed he persisted in wishing to enter the Sem- 
 inary. Aunt Deen was greatly distressed over the 
 exorbitant cost of board and outfit, and was con- 
 tinually discanting with emotion upon the merits of 
 our parents, who shrank from no financial sacrifice 
 to complete our education. 
 
 " Aha ! " sneered grandfather. " These great re- 
 
193 THE HOUSE 
 
 liglous institutions don't take in a pupil for noth- 
 ing. They bleed their patrons at all four veins for 
 the love of God." 
 
 Furthermore, it was arranged that Louise was to 
 go for two or three years to the convent school of 
 the Ladies of the Retreat at Lyons. She would 
 sober down there, and when she came home she would 
 be an accomplished young lady, like Melanie, who at 
 that time was in the very flower of her youth — 
 Melanie, who long ago had invited me to sing ves- 
 pers before a wardrobe, or to run after Yes-Yes, the 
 drunkard, with a glass of water, and whose persistent 
 piety foreshadowed a vocation which she had pro- 
 fessed as a child, but concerning which she was now 
 silent, unless, perhaps, to our mother. 
 
 Altogether the future of the family now demanded 
 much reflection and many decisions. Grandfather 
 and I remained quite apart from it aU. Once beyond 
 the gate we never looked back, except when my com- 
 panion, laughing derisively, would say: 
 
 "And as to you, boy; what is being cooked up 
 for you? Are you still inclined to enter the school 
 of adversity.? " 
 
 There had been much pleasantry over that inci- 
 dent, and I found it by no means amusing. I had 
 given up all my fine plans, and had no thought of 
 commanding some brilliant situation like my broth- 
 ers. I was content with the sort of property which 
 one enjoys without ever taking trouble, after grand- 
 father's fashion, — the lake, the forest, the moun- 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 193 
 
 tain; not to speak of the stars and those fine July 
 nights. I am not even sure that I did not prefer 
 to them all the red benches of the Cafe of the Navi- 
 gators, when I had the feeling of being a man, ad- 
 mitted to hear utterances concerning painting, music 
 and politics. 
 
 Yet I never ceased to feel my mother's gaze rest- 
 ing upon me. By way of not acknowledging it I 
 began to put on airs of independence. Like the 
 " Scenes in Animal Life," I would work up offensive 
 resemblances for all the people with whom we were 
 familiar ; turning men and things to ridicule and even 
 aiFecting when with my brothers and sisters an in- 
 curious air, as if I had fonned my views of life and 
 had nothing more to learn. By a singular phenom- 
 enon, as I now see clearly, the more deeply I was 
 initiated into the simplicity of rural life and the 
 benevolence of nature the more complicated I be- 
 came. And always, through all my newly assumed 
 ways, that gaze followed me, as if it were seeking 
 my heart. 
 
 Grandfather and I had a fright one day when we 
 came upon my mother in the street. She was going 
 to church for benediction and we to the cafe for our 
 pleasure. She so rarely left the house that we had 
 never thought of meeting her. Noses in air, already 
 inhaling the special odour of tobacco and anise which 
 awaited us, we paid no attention to the woman who 
 was approaching, so modest, so grave that no one 
 
194 THE HOUSE 
 
 thought of looking at her, and we were much sur- 
 prised when she accosted us, asking, 
 
 " Where are you going? " 
 
 What would grandfather say? I wondered. We 
 had so loudly proclaimed our disdain of the town 
 which we were now lightheartedly crossing. Would 
 he betray the secret which I had kept so well? With- 
 out the least embarrassment in the world he replied: 
 
 " To buy a paper, daughter." 
 
 Then he would not own up about our visits to the 
 Cafe of the Navigators, either. Mother let us go on 
 our way. When she had turned to the left, in the 
 direction of the church, grandfather chuckled over 
 the fine trick he had played her, but she had not 
 wished to appear to doubt the truth of his reply: it 
 had not deceived her. I knew it, for I had seen her 
 blush at our falsehood. 
 
 Another circumstance directly revealed her pene- 
 tration and her anxiety. One Sunday morning as 
 I was going out of the door of the house with grand- 
 father, she admonished us to come back in time for 
 Mass. She would go with me herself, she said, al- 
 though she had already heard mass at daybreak, as 
 was her habit. All would have been well if grand- 
 father and I, on our way home, had not met Gallus 
 and Merinos, amiable and thirsty pair, who urged 
 us, in spite of ourselves, to take a morning draught. 
 We need only stay two or three minutes, at most, 
 and we were really early. But at the Cafe was Mar- 
 tinod, perorating in full vein. All the tables were 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 195 
 
 listening to him, drinking to him, applauding him, 
 surrounding him with an atmosphere of admiration, 
 the smoke of the pipes rising like incense around him. 
 He was describing with picturesque and highly col- 
 oured details the approaching era of Nature and 
 Reason, so that every one seemed to be already living, 
 by anticipation, in that glorious time. What fes- 
 tival it would be ! — a generous humanity renouncing 
 all divisions of caste, class or race, all frontiers and 
 wars, fraternally sharing all riches of earth! The 
 transfigured orator tore away the evil from tihe 
 future, and showed the sun of that day like the 
 golden monstrance in a religious procession. It was 
 all so beautiful that we quite forgot about Mass, 
 and when, sated with eloquence, we turned our steps 
 homeward, the hour was long past. 
 
 At the gate, grandfather, descending from his ex- 
 alted mood, began to show some anxiety. As for 
 me, I felt not the slightest remorse, being under the 
 shelter of an older responsibility. Still, when I saw, 
 behind the half-closed blind, that shadow that was 
 so easily disquieted about the absent one, I too felt 
 my pride droop, and became conscious that I had done 
 wrong. Mother came down to meet us. We found 
 her on the doorstep, so pale that we could no longer 
 mistake the importance of our defection. Her voice 
 betrayed her anxiety as she asked: 
 
 " What can have happened? " 
 
 " Why, nothing at all," replied grandfather. 
 
 "Then why did you let the child miss Mass?" 
 
196 THE HOUSE 
 
 " Oh, we forgot how time was passing." 
 
 This time grandfather rubbed his nose and ex- 
 cused himself as if he had done wrong. A shadow 
 passed over mother's eyes. A moment before they 
 had been limpid, and now the light that shone 
 through their humidity pierced my heart. Soft- 
 ened as it was by the mist of tears it can not have 
 been very formidable, there was nothing in it by 
 itself so to affect me, but I have never forgotten its 
 power. It must have been with eyes like these that 
 Confessors of the faith looked upon their torturers. 
 I know that I, too, have seen that divine flame. 
 
 Young as I was I understood that my mother was 
 shaken by filial respect : yet a more imperious obliga- 
 tion constrained her to speak, and she spoke: 
 
 " We did not entrust this child to you, father, 
 to withdraw him from his religious duties. You 
 should not have forgotten this, for the sake both of 
 his soul and of us." 
 
 She spoke with mingled firmness and gentleness, 
 and her face, already pale when we arrived, became 
 so white from the effort she was making, as to seem 
 absolutely bloodless. 
 
 . . . Long, very long after this, when I was a 
 young man, I was getting ready to go out to meet 
 a woman. The woman whom I loved — for how 
 long? — had promised to betray her husband for 
 my pleasure, but I was thinking only of her beauty. 
 My mother came into my room. She had not the 
 courage to say a word ; as so long ago she was trem- 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 197 
 
 bling, this time with that other sort of respect which 
 is respect for oneself. I did not know why she had 
 come, and I felt uneasy at being detained. She laid 
 her hand on my shoulder: 
 
 " Francis," she said, " listen ; one must never take 
 what belongs to another." 
 
 I protested my innocent intentions, and as I went 
 my way I shook ofF the importunate words, which 
 however met me again on the road and went with 
 me. By what clairvoyance of love had my mother 
 divined where I was going? She had looked at me 
 with those same eyes, faintly shadowed by mist. 
 Grief, rather than years, had already made her al- 
 most an old woman. And I distinctly saw the evil 
 of the light love to which I was hastening with a 
 song upon my lips. . . . 
 
 Grandfather made no attempt to defend himself. 
 He did not call to his aid the little dry laugh which 
 usually served him so conveniently in shaking off 
 his opponent without argument. He only mur- 
 mured, somewhat weakly, " Oh ! goodness, what a 
 fuss about nothing," and hastened toward the stair- 
 case, to go up to his tower where, at least, he would 
 be sheltered from reproach. But my father, who was 
 coming down, seemed to close the way. A conflict 
 appeared to be imminent. And by the natural in- 
 clination of my childish logic I suddenly recalled 
 that return from the procession which had first re- 
 vealed to me this same antagonism: — my parents 
 all a-thrill from the ceremony which grandfather 
 
198 THE HOUSE 
 
 compared to the festival of the sun, and my sud- 
 denly chilled enthusiasm. But I was in a mood to 
 take this recollection lightly; without knowing it, I 
 had changed sides. 
 
 Grandfather appeared to me all the more embar- 
 rassed on hearing steps upon the stairs. He could 
 not avoid the meeting. But as a matter of fact it 
 passed off the most quietly in the world. A few 
 words were exchanged about the weather, the crops, 
 our walk. Generosity, deference, the desire to avoid 
 a domestic dispute, or to spare my father an anxi- 
 ety, kept my mother silent as to our late return. 
 
 But after this she never saw me going out with 
 grandfather without fixing upon me that look, the 
 anxiety of which I still feel. By some ingenious 
 artifice she used to add Louise to our party, or even 
 little Nicola, who would trot behind us, her seven 
 year old legs finding some difficulty in keeping up 
 with us. The whole troop would set forth, grand- 
 father clearly showing his displeasure over the new 
 recruits. 
 
 " I don't propose to drag the whole camp after 
 me," he would mutter. " I am not a child's nurse." 
 
 " Come, come ! " Aunt Deen would reply, " such 
 pretty children! You are only too proud to show 
 yourself in their company." 
 
 None the less I agreed with him that the pres- 
 ence of my sisters spoiled our walks. One can never 
 talk about anything with women along. They don't 
 understand out-of-door things, and they get cross 
 
THE RELIGIOUS CONTROVERSY 199 
 
 as soon as one touches upon religion. I was not 
 very far — I who had shown such fervour at my 
 first communion — from thinking that mother ex- 
 aggerated the importance of our having missed that 
 service. I thought myself free, because I had closed 
 my mind against all teaching except what came to 
 me from grandfather. Being free, one could do as 
 he pleased. We were not hindering the others from 
 going to church, and even to the communion, and 
 vespers into the bargain. 
 
 Vacation came and completely interrupted our 
 walks by ourselves. After vacation school would be- 
 gin, and I should resume my place among the little 
 school boys of my own age, without so much as know- 
 ing that the previous three months had quite changed 
 my heart. 
 
BOOK III 
 
POLITICS 
 
 After my long convalescence I did indeed return 
 to school. It was an ancient institution in which 
 kindly monks imparted antiquated instruction. It 
 was possible to work there, when one's schoolfellows 
 did not positively put obstacles in the way, but it 
 was easier to devote oneself to clandestine industries, 
 such as training flies and cockchafers, drawing cari- 
 catures, reading forbidden books, and even carrying 
 on. explorations through the passages. The disci- 
 pline was no better than the teaching. Up to this 
 time the idea had never occurred to me to view as a 
 prison this great building with its numerous 
 doors and windows where one came and went as one 
 pleased under the paternal eye of a new porter, en- 
 tirely absorbed in the care of his flowers and of a 
 tortoise whose manners he was studying. But I was 
 now new-bom to the sentiment of liberty, and conse- 
 quently to that of slavery. I made every efi'ort 
 therefore to discover that I was unhappy. 
 
 On holidays I resumed my walks with grandfather. 
 An involuntary complicity established itself between 
 us. If one or another of my brothers or sisters 
 joined us we spoke only of indiff^erent things. When 
 
204. THE HOUSE 
 
 we were alone we went Into rhapsodies over the joys 
 of the fields and the brotherhood of men, only hin- 
 dered by property with all its enclosures. I learned 
 that money was the cause of all ills, that one should 
 despise and do away with it, and that the only neces- 
 sary good things cost nothing, namely, health, the 
 sunlight, pure air, the songs of birds and all the 
 pleasures of the eye. My teachers, who were much 
 more interested in Latin than in philanthropy, neg- 
 lected to teach me the latter except by their exam- 
 ple, to which I paid no attention. No more towns, 
 no more armies (and Bernard, who was preparing 
 at Saint-Cyr, and who had never been informed of 
 these truths!), no more judges, no more lost law- 
 suits, no more houses. But here I thought that 
 grandfather was going rather too far. No more 
 houses! What about ours, then.'* Ours which had 
 been repaired and all done over! It mattered little 
 about the others, so long as ours was spared. 
 
 " Why no, little dunce ; pastoral peoples used to 
 sleep out of doors. It's more hygienic.'* 
 
 When Abraham journeyed to the land of Canaan 
 he must have slept out of doors, and so must the 
 shepherds whom we had met leading their flock to 
 the mountains. 
 
 We made another pilgrimage to the pavilion which 
 I had come to call Helen's pavilion, and from time 
 to time we put in an appearance together at the 
 Cafe of the Navigators, so that I did not entirely 
 lose contact with my friends. 
 
POLITICS 205 
 
 I was entering my fourteenth year, I think, or 
 it may have been a little later, when our town became 
 the scene of great events. The mayor's office was 
 contested in an election, and the Marinetti Circus set 
 up its tent and waggon-houses in the market-place. 
 I do not know which of these two dissimilar facts 
 seemed the more important to me. 
 
 At our house, in view of the new preoccupations 
 as to our future, the tone of conversation became 
 more serious. More than once I came upon our 
 father and mother mysteriously discussing Melanie's 
 approaching majority. 
 
 " The time is coming," father would say. " I 
 have promised and I shall keep my promise. But 
 it will be hard." 
 
 And mother would answer, 
 
 " God wills it. He will give us the needful 
 strength." 
 
 Nevertheless, she seemed less sad than father, when 
 she spoke about my sister. What promise were they 
 talking about, and what was it that God willed? I 
 used often to think of the picture in the Bible rep- 
 resenting the sacrifice of Isaac, but since the time of 
 our missing church I was less inclined to believe that 
 God was so very strict. 
 
 Melanie went often to church, visited the poor, and 
 dipped her brush in water every morning to smooth 
 down her blond hair which curled naturally and re- 
 fused to lie in straight bands. I knew these details 
 through Aunt Deen, who was always saying: 
 
206 THE HOUSE 
 
 " That child is an angel." 
 
 It had become impossible to quarrel with Melanie. 
 Our parents no longer gave her orders; they spoke 
 to her gently, as if they were consulting her. Even 
 I, without knowing why, dared not speak roughly to 
 her, and growing less and less inclined to be respect- 
 ful, I kept aloof from her, and no longer sought her 
 company. 
 
 The others were not to return until the long va- 
 cation. Louise, from her boarding school in Lyons, 
 wrote loving letters which I found somewhat silly, 
 because they often alluded to religious ceremonies 
 and visits of the Superior, or of some passing mis- 
 sionary. Bernard's letters briefly described the life 
 at Saint-Cyr which he had just entered, and Stephen's 
 contained numerous obscure allusions to his plans, 
 which seemed to harmonise with those of Melanie. I 
 could not condescend so far as to play with the 
 younger children, the delicate Nicola who was always 
 disturbing mother while she was writing to the ab- 
 sent ones, and the tumultuous Jamie, in whose behalf 
 I would cheerfully have seen the establishment of 
 the severe discipline which I did not care about for 
 myself. I treated them as from a higher level — 
 they could not understand me. So that my real com- 
 rade was grandfather. 
 
 Two or three times my father, displeased by my 
 silences or my superior airs, observed in those fam- 
 ily councils of which somehow children generally 
 manage to catch scraps. 
 
POLITICS 207 
 
 " That child is growing secretive." 
 
 Mother, still somewhat uneasy about me, did not 
 protest, but Aunt Deen, fertile in excuses, would 
 authoritatively affirm that I would blossom out be- 
 fore long. Far from being grateful to this stead- 
 fast ally, I laughed in my sleeve at her fanatical 
 loyalty, by way of proving my superior intelligence. 
 
 The circus and the elections stirred up the town 
 at the same time. Every day as I crossed the mar- 
 ket-place I would stop to watch the slow erection 
 of the tent and the placing of the raised seats, nec- 
 essary preliminaries of the show. At our house the 
 conversation was more likely to turn upon the future 
 of the country. I was not so ignorant of politics 
 as they might have supposed, though my opinions 
 vacillated. I knew that certain days, like the 
 Fourth of September and the Sixteenth of May, were 
 anniversaries variously celebrated, that all the monks 
 except ours had been expelled, and that there was 
 an expedition to China, — which as it happened, 
 aroused only criticism at our house. 
 
 " Why can't they let those folks alone ! " grand- 
 father would exclaim. 
 
 Father would shake his head: 
 
 " They are forgetting the past. A conquered peo- 
 ple should never scatter its forces." 
 
 I was not ignorant of his having taken part in 
 the war — we used to speak of it simply as " the 
 war" — and I could easily imagine him at the head 
 of an army, whereas grandfather must always have 
 
208 THE HOUSE 
 
 preferred his violin and his telescope to swords, guns, 
 pistols and other murderous engines. In vain had 
 the Cafe des Navigateurs poured contempt upon all 
 military glory : it still kept its prestige for me. Yet 
 I could not easily understand how the French Guard 
 and the grenadier In the drawing-room could have 
 died, one for the King and the other for the Emperor, 
 and yet both deserve the same praise, while the par- 
 tisans of the Emperor were always exchanging op- 
 probrious remarks with those of the King. 
 
 Father explained : " For the soldier, there is only 
 France. There is no nobler death." 
 
 Grandfather, being present, declared that in his 
 opinion the noblest thing was to die for liberty. But 
 he did not insist, and notwithstanding the silence 
 which followed I saw that he had displeased my 
 father. 
 
 The idea seemed to haunt him, for he returned to 
 it on our next walk, and described, with more en- 
 thusiasm than usual, a splendid epoch which he had 
 known, compared with which our own period was 
 but darkness. Our own period seemed to me quite 
 endurable, between our walks and the Cafe. It ap- 
 peared that at that time, as under the Revolution, 
 liberty had a second time been set free, and when 
 liberty is set free an era of universal peace and con- 
 cord begins. Citizens moved by a fraternal impulse 
 were working together in vast national workshops, a 
 modest remuneration, the same for all, weak and 
 strong, robust and malingerers, giving to each that 
 
POLITICS 209 
 
 contentment which arises from being sure of one's 
 daily bread. 
 
 " That is what M. Martinod demands," I said. 
 
 " Martinod is right," replied my companion, " but 
 will he succeed where we came to grief? " 
 
 " You came to grief, grandfather ! " 
 
 " We failed in the blood of the days of June." 
 
 We failed m the blood of the days of June. The 
 meaning of the words might escape me, but they 
 made music in my ears like the rolling of a drum. 
 Long ago — three or four years perhaps — I had 
 been excited over other mysterious words, such as the 
 lament of the White Blackbird, / was arranging 
 trifles while you were in the woods, and also that of 
 the Nightingale, All night long I strain my throat for 
 her, but she sleeps and hears me not. Now I found 
 their melancholy somewhat insipid, and preferred this 
 new rhythm, so warlike and full of pain. Touched 
 to the heart I at once asked, as with Aunt Deen's 
 stories when I was little, 
 
 "And what happened after that.''" 
 
 " A tyrant came." 
 
 Ah, this time it was all clear! A tyrant, a hos- 
 podar, to be sure! Aunt Deen's hospodar, the fa- 
 mous man all dressed in red, who gave commands 
 with loud shouts. 
 
 "What tyrant.'"^ I asked, by way of knowing it 
 aU. 
 
 " Badinguet. Napoleon III. For that matter all 
 emperors and all kings are tyrants." 
 
210 THE HOUSE 
 
 No; certainly I could not understand. The glim- 
 mer of truth which I had half seen died out. Our 
 father, at table or in other conversations with us, 
 had never failed to instil into our minds respect and 
 love for the long line of kings who had ruled France, 
 and whom nearly all the bad paintings in the draw- 
 ing-room, save the grenadier and the latest portraits, 
 had served. He used to talk as often of the power 
 of nations as grandfather of their happiness. Na- 
 poleon the Great, whose epic story all school boys 
 know by heart, had ruined the country, but all the 
 same he was the greatest genius of modem times. 
 As for Napoleon the Little, it was to him we owed 
 defeat and the loss of territory. Curiously enough 
 these events, when they were spoken of at our house, 
 never seemed to me to have the slightest connection 
 with those that figured in my history book. One 
 never recognises in the plants of a herbarium those 
 that are growing in the fields. And when father 
 spoke in praise of the kings grandfather had never 
 made any objection. He had neither approved nor 
 disapproved. And here he was declaring in peremp- 
 tory tones that all kings were tyrants ! Why did he 
 keep silence at table when he was so sure of his opin- 
 ion? No doubt he did not wish to oppose any one. 
 Thenceforth I accounted to myself for his self-ef- 
 facement by delicacy, and was moved to consider him 
 right. 
 
 Once again he spoke to me of those mysterious 
 days of June when people fought to break the chains 
 
POLITICS 211 
 
 that bound the proletariat. I had no distinct notion 
 of what the proletariat was. Tem Bossette, Mimi 
 Pachoux and The Hanged, for instance, were they 
 proletaires? I pictured them to myself loaded with 
 chains and shut up in a cellar full of empty wine 
 casks — because if the casks had been full they would 
 never have come out of their own accord. Grand- 
 father had rushed to their aid. I learned from his 
 own lips that he had taken part in the insurrection 
 in Paris, and had carried a gun. 
 
 " Did you fire it oflF, grandfather? " I asked in 
 surprise and perhaps in admiration, for I should 
 never have thought him capable of so vigorous an 
 act. 
 
 He modestly explained that he had never had an 
 opportunity. 
 
 Aunt Deen had shown me, in a cupboard, the sabre 
 which my father had worn during the war. Why 
 had no one ever showed me that gun? Was not it 
 too a family trophy? Grandfather concluded his 
 somewhat vague story with the familiar reflec- 
 tion: 
 
 " Papa wasn't pleased." 
 
 He seemed so old that I should never have had 
 an idea of thinking of his parents, who were noth- 
 ing but paintings in the drawing-room. And here 
 he was saying papa, like little Jamie, not even 
 father like my elder brothers and me. Greatly 
 amused I exclaimed, 
 
 "Your papa, grandfather?" 
 
212 THE HOUSE 
 
 " To He sure, the man of roses and laws, the mag- 
 istrate, the nurseryman." 
 
 He spoke of him without the slightest respect, and 
 this to me unimaginable audacity seemed a thing 
 so prodigious that by itself it was enough to oblit- 
 erate all distinctions of rank. By it he at once 
 placed himself above all other men, of whom he could 
 make light with impunity. I promised myself to 
 be disrespectful, too, to show my spirit. 
 
 Grandfather proceeded to enlighten me with cer- 
 tain particulars concerning the displeasure of his 
 " papa." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! he insisted that a king is as neces- 
 sary to a nation as a gardener to a garden. And 
 all the bad paintings in the drawing-room thought 
 the same." 
 
 What! all the family! Grandfather was delib- 
 erately taking his stand apart from all the ances- 
 tors! He proposed to flock by himself, to walk 
 alone, far from the road, as in our walks. What's 
 the use of being a grown-up person if one must still 
 consider others, may not do as he chooses, must 
 heed counsels and remonstrances.'' He had done 
 mighty well to carry a gun, seeing it was for liberty. 
 
 His impertinent little laugh seemed to break with 
 paternal opinion and invoke nature: 
 
 " It's absurd ! As if it was necessary to trim 
 trees and cut plants into shape ! See how they grow 
 without any help, and if these don't knock out all 
 the gardens in the world ! " 
 
POLITICS 213 
 
 We had reached a grove of beeches, aspens and 
 other trees. The tender little spring leaves were 
 not large enough yet to hide the ramifications of the 
 branches. Before my convalescence I should have 
 disagreed with grandfather. The transformation 
 of our garden since our father took the reins of gov- 
 ernment, the arrangement of the grass-plots, the 
 form of the groves, the harmonious order of the 
 whole, had given me great satisfaction. But our 
 wanderings in the country had by degrees opened 
 my eyes to the beauty of wilder things. A clump 
 of ferns and reeds, a tangle of vines and bushes, 
 rocks crowned with ruddy bracken, and hidden nooks 
 had won my preference, so that I unhesitatingly ac- 
 cepted his view. But I was in a measure stunned 
 by the discovery that one might be of a different 
 mind from one's parents and even sit in judgment 
 upon them, like this, in all quietness of mind. 
 Grandfather had not been afraid to condemn his 
 father in my presence. It was the most effective 
 lesson in independence that I had yet received, and 
 this discovery, far from gratifying me, inspired me 
 with fear, and aroused again the feeling of sacrilege 
 which I had felt with respect to the dead man. Ir- 
 reverence was not liberty. One might scorn and at 
 the same time obey, still, one really had a right to 
 be free, not to accept his father's ideas, not obey 
 his orders. 
 
 I dared not give form to the thoughts which were 
 assailing me and therefore returned to politics. 
 
214 THE HOUSE 
 
 " Then," I asked, " there won't be kings any 
 more? " 
 
 " As fast as people become civilised, kings will dis- 
 appear." 
 
 "How about the Count de Chambord?" 
 
 " Oh, as for him, he may as well cut up his white 
 flag into a nightshirt." 
 
 To speak of the Count de Chambord like that! 
 The pleasantry shocked, rather than amused me. 
 The Count de Chambord had always seemed to me 
 a legendary personage, as far away and illusory as 
 the chevaliers in the ballads which had thrilled me 
 during my convalescence. To be sure he had not 
 filched the cup of happiness from Titania, the fair 
 queen of the elves, he had not come on a red roan 
 steed to see the young girl of the romance of the 
 Swan's Nest ; but I knew that he was living in exUe, 
 endued with the martyr's aureola, and that he was 
 expected. Aunt Deen never spoke of him except as 
 " our prince," and raised her head proudly when- 
 ever he was mentioned, as if he belonged to her. 
 From time to time conferences were held in our draw- 
 ing-room for the discussion of his approaching re- 
 turn. And he would not come back alone; God 
 would come with him, and he would bring back the 
 white flag. My imagination found no difficulty in 
 picturing him at the head of a multitude waving ban- 
 ners, though I could not quite determine whether 
 it was an army or a religious procession. 
 
 Of all these conferences one of the members was 
 
POLITICS 216 
 
 Mile Tapinois, she who resembled the old dove in 
 my picture book; there were also M. de Hurtin, an 
 old gentleman who looked like the falcon who had 
 been ruined by Revolutions, and divers other per- 
 sonages also drawn from my " Scenes from Animal 
 Life," and who are now somewhat mixed in my mem- 
 ory. There was also a certain impetuous priest, 
 Abbe Heurtevant, who was always scenting the bat- 
 tle from afar, and whose prominent round eyes could 
 see only things at a distance, so that he was always 
 bumping into the furniture, and always restless, car- 
 rying on war against vases and Chinese curiosities. 
 When he upset a knickknack he never excused him- 
 self but simply remarked: 
 
 "That's one less." 
 
 Small frivolous objects of that sort interfered 
 with his actions and he detested them. Aunt Deen 
 forgave even his destructiveness for the sake of his 
 eloquence. When he was standing his head was 
 perched so high that I would look for it as for a 
 mountain top. On the other hand, when he sat 
 down he would almost disappear in an easy chair, 
 his knees on a level with his chin, as if he had been 
 folded in three parts of equal length. He was as 
 emaciated as an ascetic, which was not surprising 
 since his only food was roots. It was he, indeed, 
 who during the mushroom season, lived upon Satan 
 bolets. They did him no harm, but neither did they 
 fatten him. Grandfather was greatly interested in 
 his diet, considering him a phenomenon, and uphold- 
 
216 THE HOUSE 
 
 ing his opinions because of his eccentricities. He 
 never called him anything but Nostradamus. On the 
 contrary, father thought comparatively little of such 
 an ally, and indeed did not greatly care for these 
 quasi secret meetings. 
 
 " Our good abbe," he would say, " Is always up in 
 the air. He studies the heavens, but knows nothing 
 of what is going on down here." 
 
 What need had he of knowing, since he could fore- 
 see the future? In fact, he was making a collection 
 of predictions concerning the restoration of the 
 monarchy, and could cite from memory all the im- 
 portant ones. I can remember a good many of them, 
 having heard them so often. The most celebrated 
 of them all was that from the Abbey of Orval, which 
 had predicted the downfall of Napoleon, the return 
 of the Bourbons and even the reign of Louis-PhiUppe 
 and the war. How then, could it have been mis- 
 taken in the apostrophe which Abbe Heurtevant 
 would whisper in a moving tone, bringing tears from 
 the eyes of the ladies. Cotne, young prince, leave 
 the island of captivity . . . umte the lion with the 
 •white fjower. He had found a subtle interpretation 
 of the island of captivity and the lion, which on the 
 first investigation had been obscure. I was however 
 in no haste to have the young prince obey this in- 
 junction, because of the events which were bound to 
 follow, namely, the conversion of England and of 
 the Jews, and to finish up with, Antichrist. Anti- 
 
POLITICS 217 
 
 christ terrified me: he also, like Death in my Bible, 
 was to ride. on a pale horse. 
 
 " The young prince, indeed," grandfather would 
 sneer when I related all these marvels to him, for 
 he refused to be present at the assemblies over which 
 Abbe Nostradamus presided, " young prince of sixty 
 springs ! " 
 
 There were also the visions of a certain Rose- 
 Colombe, a Dominican nun, deceased upon the Ital- 
 ian coast. A great revolution was to burst out in 
 Europe, the Russians and Prussians would turn their 
 churches into stables, and peace would hot appear 
 again until the lilies, descendants of'S^int Louis, 
 were again blossoming upon the throne of France, 
 which would happen. Which wotdd happen closed 
 the paragraph, proving that it was not a mere hy- 
 pothesis, as learned men might construe it, but an 
 incontestable truth, proved by ecstatic visions. 
 
 " Yes, the lilies will bloom again," Aunt Deen 
 loved to repeat, for she attached especial credit to 
 the sayings of Sister Rose Colombe. 
 
 This conviction caused her to rush up and down- 
 stairs all the more proudly, since she might suppose 
 that her services would be needed. She had a habit 
 of accompanying the innumerable labours to which, 
 without respite, she gave herself, with interjections 
 and exclamations. We could hear her psalmodies 
 as she swept or scoured, for she turned her hand to 
 everything. 
 
218 THE HOUSE 
 
 "They will bloom again, to the salvation of re- 
 ligion and of France." 
 
 The Abbe did not stop at predictions which re- 
 established monarchs among ourselves. His solici- 
 tude extended even over unhappy Poland, and one 
 evening he triumphantly brought in a Roman news- 
 paper, in which was recorded the apparition of the 
 Blessed Andrew Bobola, who informed a monk of the 
 restoration of that kingdom, after a war which would 
 involve all nations. 
 
 " At last Poland is saved," he concluded in a tone 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 " Poor Poland, it is high time ! " chimed in Aunt 
 Deen, who had compassion upon all unfortunates. 
 
 Nevertheless, in order to attain to these miracu- 
 lous renascences many catastrophes must be en- 
 dured. Our abbe heroically put the torch to all 
 Europe, and consented to drench it in blood if only 
 the lilies would bloom again at the end. 
 
 The ladies enjoyed his vaticinations. His nos- 
 trils would expand like sails under a favourable 
 breeze, and his round eyes would bulge with so 
 much ardour that it almost seemed as if they might 
 fall out, all in a flame. He used also to break a 
 lance with the party that admitted the escape of 
 Louis XVII from the prison of the Temple and the 
 authenticity of NaundorfF. Mile Tapinois, espe- 
 cially, preached NaundorfBsm, which won her many 
 a stinging retort. She almost drew Aunt Deen 
 after her, but one glance from Abbe Heurtevant 
 
POLITICS 219 
 
 sufficed to keep her firm in the good cause. Mile 
 Tapinois invoked Providence, of whom every one 
 knew that she was the right arm, declaring him — it 
 was impossible to say why — hostile to the return 
 of the Count de Chambord. By way of eclipsing 
 her adversary she would state that Jules Favre, the 
 advocate of her Naundorff, had received from him 
 as a token of gratitude the seal of the Bourbons, 
 and happening to have no other one with him on that 
 historic day, he had set the royal seal to the Treaty 
 of Paris after the signature of Count Bismarck, as 
 if he were acting simply as the delegate of his prince. 
 This anecdote having obtained the success of curi- 
 osity, in spite of father's remark, " No Bourbon 
 would have signed such a treaty," Abbe Heurte- 
 vant, broken-hearted at having been interrupted in 
 his predictions by such fiddle-faddles, shrugged his 
 shoulders in token of his incredulity, and from the 
 comer where I was playing with a pack of cards, I 
 heard him murmur, 
 
 " When Balaam's ass spoke, the prophet kept si- 
 lence." 
 
 I knew the adventure of Balaam from a picture 
 in my Bible. But our abbe came in also for his 
 own, and was recompensed for his brief overthrow. 
 Old M. Hurtin, whose bird of prey profile deceived 
 people as to the obstinacy of his temper, shaken by 
 the stories and asseverations of Mile Tapinois, be- 
 gan on his part to bring up objections to Monsei- 
 gneur, for no one failed to give him his title if only 
 
220 THE HOUSE 
 
 to dispute it. He went so far as to reproach him 
 for having no children. 
 
 " One will be made for him," M. Heurtevant de- 
 clared in a moment of sudden illumination. 
 
 This remark, most forcibly uttered, raised a great 
 outcry. The ladies manifested their indignation by 
 various little ejacidations, and Mile Tapinois, cov- 
 ering her face, protested against a man of God dar- 
 ing to scandalise a respectable and well-meaning 
 company, and with children present. The abbe, 
 blushing and quite out of countenance, being much 
 more accustomed to reprimand others than to be 
 reprimanded, lifted up his hands while Mile Ta- 
 pinois was haranguing, as a sign that he desired to 
 explain. The opportunity was not immediately 
 given, and he was forced to have patience until the 
 excitement was calmed. He had simply meant to 
 say that the continuity of the dynasty would be pro- 
 vided for, and that the royal race was not threatened 
 with extinction. A legitimate successor would do 
 as well as a child of a king. His explanations were 
 received with ill grace, and Mile Tapinois, who was 
 seated near me, turned to M. de Hurtin, and put him 
 through a course of questions, to certify that the 
 prophet had found a very bad mouthpiece ; thus tak- 
 ing her revenge on Balaam's ass, which had not es- 
 caped her acute ear. 
 
 This incident which fastened itself on my mem- 
 ory though I did not very well understand it, as 
 sometimes happens with memories, had cast a damper 
 
POLITICS 221 
 
 on these royalist meetings, when the approaching 
 elections reanimated them. 
 
 " I do not believe in salvation by election," father 
 remarked, " still we must neglect nothing for the 
 welfare of the country." 
 
 A rumour was going round that the mayor's chair 
 would be contested, the actual occupant being un- 
 worthy. But who would lead the conflict? It must 
 be a man of mettle, able and firm. Thenceforth I 
 never passed the municipal building on my way to 
 school without imagining it endowed with machico- 
 lations and cannons and bearing its part in a great 
 confusion of historic sieges. 
 
 The bell at our gate was incessantly ringing, and 
 it was not always some one for the doctor. WeU 
 dressed gentlemen who seemed to prefer to slip in 
 at nightfall with the shadows, peasants, working men, 
 were invading the house, and the same words were 
 constantly repeated: 
 
 "Won't you come forward, doctor?" 
 
 " Doctor, you must come forward." 
 
 The old men of the suburbs would say more fa- 
 miliarly, " Get a move on. Monsieur Michel." 
 
 I observed that the peasants and working men put 
 more earnestness and conviction into their entreat- 
 ies. The well-dressed gentlemen, better mannered, 
 and more discreet, did not insist, and one of them, 
 stout and dignified, carried his devotion so far as 
 to propose himself. 
 
 " To be sure, we understand your scruples, your 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 hesitations. It's a weighty undertaking and very 
 expensive. If it must be, I wUl consent to be candi- 
 date in your place — just to please you." 
 
 " Not you," spoke up with authority a bearded 
 individual in a blue blouse. " You wouldn't get four 
 votes. Monsieur Michel is another story." 
 
 The gentleman, thus turned down, majestically 
 buttoned up his frock coat. 
 
 When the intruders had retired, a discussion arose 
 between father and mother, peaceful, grave and con- 
 fidential. So absorbed were they that they did not 
 notice that we were present. 
 
 " You can not," said mother gently, almost quot- 
 ing the stout gentleman. " Think of the expenses 
 that we are bearing. You were obliged to buy the 
 property in order to spare your father, and I en- 
 couraged your doing so, remember. In a family, all 
 stand or fall together. The great schools are very 
 expensive, for we do not get scholarships, though 
 we have seven children. You are known to be hos- 
 tile to the institutions under which we are governed. 
 Within a few years we shall need to settle Louise, 
 even though Melanie will need but a small dowry. 
 And besides, think of yourself. You are already 
 working too hard, your patients absorb all your 
 strength. I am afraid you will overdo. We are 
 no longer in our first youth, my dear. The family 
 is enough for us. The family is our first duty." 
 
 Father was silent for a moment, as if weighing 
 the pros and cons. Then he said: 
 
POLITICS 
 
 " I do not forget the family. Don't distress your- 
 self about mj health, Valentine. I have never felt 
 myself more robust nor better able to endure fa- 
 tigue. And I can not help thinking of the useful 
 part which is offered me, — for to be mayor to-day 
 is to be deputy to-morrow: to denounce to the coun- 
 try the gang that is cheating it and fattening upon 
 it, to prepare the public mind for the return of the 
 king — so necessary if we are to recover from de- 
 feat. All these plain folk who rely upon me touch 
 my heart, and shake my resolution to hold myself 
 aloof from public life. I have no personal ambition. 
 But even here, surely here, there is a duty to ful- 
 fil." 
 
 They were like alternating strophes in which the 
 family and the country by turns made their press- 
 ing appeals. 
 
 My father's picture of a restored France did not 
 closely resemble that of Abbe Heurtevant, who 
 trusted to miracles. He added circumstantial de- 
 tails which I could not follow, but in the end, with- 
 out knowing exactly how, we got the impression 
 that the aroused provinces would march promptly 
 and joyfully under the authority of the prince who 
 would address himself directly to them, and who at 
 the same time would refer all religious matters to 
 the Pope of Rome. 
 
 Father was so well able to command that I found it 
 quite natural that the government should be en- 
 trusted to him, since the realm of the house was not 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 enough for him, and he desired another. And be- 
 sides, in that case he would be too busy to watch 
 over my studies and my thoughts, which I well knew 
 he talked over anxiously with mother, in the even- 
 ings. 
 
 Things were even more changed at the Caf^ des 
 Navigateurs than at our house, where only a faint 
 note of coming events reached my ear. I went 
 thither with grandfather, one holiday, when we were 
 not expected. Casenave, prematurely aged, apart 
 from the others, was still drinking for pleasure, in 
 the midst of the general inattention, the other mem- 
 bers of the group being occupied with loftier things. 
 They were not talking of the king, but of liberty. 
 I learned that the hydra of reaction which had been 
 supposed to be crushed after the Sixteenth of May, 
 was beginning to lift up its head. Galurin was 
 openly demanding the partition of goods, which was 
 his hobby, Gallus and Merinos were repudiating a 
 bourgeois Republic, desiring it to be at once Athe- 
 nian and popular, one which would assure to each 
 person a minimum wage for an indeterminate amount 
 of work, and at the same time would be open to 
 beauty, and a protector of the arts. They were 
 both sketching, in the intervals of their labours, one 
 a symphony, the other a charcoal drawing in which 
 the new era was symbolised. But I hardly recog- 
 nised Martinod. Instead of presenting to our 
 dazzled eyes, as in former days, the marriage of the 
 People and Reason, his left all phrase-making to the 
 
POLITICS 225 
 
 two artists. WitK unexpected coherence he was 
 enumerating urgent reforms, the diminution of mili- 
 tary service with a view to its complete suppression, 
 the independence of syndicates, State monopoly of 
 education, not to mention the revision of the Con- 
 stitution, a matter upon which every one was agreed. 
 The independence of syndicates especially struck me 
 because no matter how much my neighbour explained 
 to me in what it consisted, I could not in the least 
 understand it, and therefore set a particularly high 
 value upon it. Leaving his reforms, notwithstand- 
 ing their urgency, Martinod, who was continually 
 bringing in recruits and treating them, worked him- 
 self up into a great excitement upon a subject of 
 more immediate importance, which was the next 
 mayor. 
 
 Decidedly, I understood one thing, the battle 
 would be carried on there and not elsewhere. 
 
 Soon the entire conversation began to turn upon 
 proper names. Forgotten was the Athenian and pop- 
 ular Republic, forgotten were reforms, only individu- 
 als were spoken of, and very few of these found grace 
 in the eyes of the company. Most of them were 
 considered suspicious ; they were not deemed pure 
 enough, — and all sorts of fatal defects were brought 
 up against them, notably consorting with priests, 
 and sending their children to clerical schools. Then 
 there were discussions in an undertone (and I clearly 
 saw Martinod directing furtive glances, now in grand- 
 father's direction and now in mine, which flattered 
 
226 THE HOUSE 
 
 me, for in general I did not exist for so great a man), 
 of a redoubtable leader who would be the worst ad- 
 versary and not easily to be overcome. 
 
 " There is only he," Martinod concluded. " The 
 others are all knaves or thieves." 
 
 " He is the only one," repeated the chorus in ap- 
 proval. 
 
 Yet nobody mentioned his name. I found no dif- 
 ficulty, however, in picturing him to myself formi- 
 dable and mysterious, leading his forces to certain vic- 
 tory. Grandfather was negligently listening to 
 Casenave's dialogue with his double. Martinod, who 
 had been observing him for a moment or two, now 
 secretly and again full in the face, suddenly leaned 
 toward him, and said abruptly: 
 
 " Do you know one thing. Father Rambert? You 
 are the one to lead us in this fight." 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed grandfather, quite taken aback. 
 " Oho ! » 
 
 And he gurgled out his little laugh. They let 
 him laugh at his ease, after which Martinod repeated 
 his offer. 
 
 " To be sure, you. Who deserves it better? In 
 '48 you came near dying for liberty." 
 
 " Not at all. I did not come near dying." 
 
 This proposition was not further pressed. But 
 as we were going back to the house at the dinner hour 
 he stood still, saying: 
 
 " That was a good thing, Martinod ! I their 
 candidate ? Insane ! " 
 
POLITICS S27 
 
 He laughed again with all his heart. A httle fur- 
 ther on he repeated, 
 
 " I, their candidate ! " 
 
 This time he did not laugh. I understood that 
 all the same he was not displeased with Martinod's 
 suggestion. 
 
II 
 
 THE emeus 
 
 My attention was distracted from these election 
 concerns by the circus which had been set up in the 
 Market Place. Its immense white tent, at last se- 
 cured in place by solid pegs, bore above the entrance 
 curtain, in letters of gold against a blue background, 
 the inscription Marvnetti's Circus. A drummer plied 
 his drumsticks at short intervals to attract the at- 
 tention of the pubhc, and from time to time the por- 
 tiere was raised and a princess in a spangled robe 
 and rose-coloured stockings emerged like an appari- 
 tion. I used to pass that way on my return from 
 school, merely to hear that unceasing drum and to 
 see that lady, who was sometimes old and sometimes 
 very young. How I longed to get inside the tent! 
 I indulged my desire for this forbidden paradise by 
 lingering as long as possible and then speeding away 
 at my best pace, so as not to be late at home. 
 
 Once I made the circuit of the tent and got " be- 
 hind the scenes." The waggon-houses were drawn 
 up side by side at the back. Thick smoke was pour- 
 ing from their slender chimneys — as if from green 
 wood, and from the odour some witch's broth must 
 have been in course of preparation. Several raw- 
 
THE CIRCUS 229 
 
 boned horses were wandering at liberty, as if they had 
 not the strength to go far, under the indulgent watch 
 of dogs whose indolence reassured me. A parroquet 
 was fluttering from roof to roof. On the steps of 
 one waggon a woman was sitting clothed in rags which 
 unblushingly revealed her amber skin, combing her 
 hair in the sun; the black mass which she drew for- 
 ward cast a shadow over all her face, hiding it from 
 me, though it alone interested me. A bronzed old 
 fellow was smoking his pipe with a majesty like that 
 of the old shepherd in his russet mantle, walking be- 
 fore his sheep with even pace toward the mountain. 
 Some half-naked children, brown and curly-headed, 
 crawling among the waggons, were hustling one an- 
 other, exchanging thumps, when suddenly a door 
 opened and out bounced a termagant, holding a stew- 
 pan in her left hand and with her right restoring 
 peace by means of a few sound slaps. 
 
 This spectacle in no way cooled my curiosity. 
 Has the wrong side of a theatre ever cooled the in- 
 terest of amateurs or the zeal of actors? What was 
 not my delight then when grandfather, returning 
 from a walk, proposed to take me inside. I imagine 
 he was going in on his own account and was far from 
 suspecting my longings. 
 
 We entered. The orchestra, composed of a corno- 
 peon, two small flutes and a clavier which some one 
 struck with two rulers — I was unfamiliar with the 
 dulcimer — were making such a clatter as quite to 
 drown out the faithful and monotonous drum out- 
 
230 THE HOUSE 
 
 side. Little by little we grew used to it and through 
 all the noise I soon became aware of a sort of call, 
 at once indescribably sad, sweet and authoritative, 
 and so insistent that no one could resist it. In later 
 years the Hungarian dances gave me a better un- 
 derstanding of the longing which I then felt. The 
 sound brought before me unknown, far distant lands, 
 and all the pleasures of vague pain. I longed to 
 extend my arms to hasten the future. It was, as 
 it were, a new apprehension of the still more vague 
 sensation which Aunt Deen's cradle song had awak- 
 ened in me: 
 
 Si Dieu favorise 
 Ma noble entreprise 
 J'irai-z-S, Venise 
 Couler d'heureux jours. 
 
 And I dimly realised that The House would never 
 fulfil my dream. We didn't hear such music there. 
 
 Powdered clowns in parti-coloured red and yellow 
 costumes and little pointed caps played tricks upon 
 one another which excited the laughter of the crowd 
 and disgusted me. I had not come to witness buf- 
 foonery, but had expected, without quite knowing 
 what, a noble and moving spectacle. Happily a 
 tight-rope dancer restored my serenity, for it was 
 with difficulty that she preserved her equilibrium, 
 seeming likely at any moment to fall to the ground. 
 
 But the sensational number was the flying trapeze 
 of the two Marinetti brothers. More than one cele- 
 brated acrobat has doubtless begun his career in a 
 
THE CIRCUS 231 
 
 travelling circus. The two Marinetti brothers later 
 became celebrated; one was killed in London by a 
 fall; the other is to-day one of the first mimics of 
 the world. At that time they were very young fel- 
 lows, hardly older than I, One might have thought 
 that they were simply amusing themselves, with no 
 thought of the spectators. They played into each 
 other's hands with touching solicitude and arranged 
 by a slight signal for the execution of their joint 
 turns — I had almost said their duet, for there was 
 so much rhythm in the supple movements of their 
 two bodies that they really seemed to sing. Dur- 
 ing their whole glorious or tragic career, did they 
 ever do anything more daring than those flights from 
 one trapeze to another, without the security of the 
 net, always laid in wait for by death, for which they 
 seemed to care no more than a sparrowhawk for a 
 knife ? 
 
 The stifled cry of a woman in the audience awoke 
 me to the danger to which I had been as indifferent 
 as they, but of which I became suddenly aware. I 
 was full of admiration and envy of them, soaring thus 
 through the air. I could conceive of nothing more 
 heroic, and my notion of courage underwent a 
 change. Until now, through the epic stories father 
 had told me, I had imagined it as always serving a 
 cause. Hector was defending his city against the 
 Greeks and Roland his faith against the Saracens. 
 But was it not finer to juggle thus with oneself, for 
 no reason, for one's own pleasure ? — for the public 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 had ceased to count. In that Ill-Hghted circus, to 
 the sound of that strange, exciting orchestra, I came 
 to feel the charm of the danger that serves no pur- 
 pose. 
 
 But clowns, rope dancer and even the MarlnettI 
 brothers were eclipsed In my Imagination as by en- 
 chantment, when into the ring there dashed a little 
 horsewoman standing erect upon a black horse whose 
 saddle was large and flat like a table. I had been 
 looking down during the interval, that Is why I no- 
 ticed the horse, for otherwise I should surely have 
 seen only the rider. She wore a robe of gold. If 
 the lamps had emitted less smoke and more light it 
 Is probable that that frayed dress would not have 
 given me such a vision of luxury. The girl's arms 
 were bare and her hair unbound. Alone among all 
 those tawny performers she was fair like the heroines 
 of all my ballads. Merely by her leap Into the ring 
 she gave me what no woman had ever given me be- 
 fore, not even she whom I had met with grandfather 
 and whom I had called the lady of the pavilion be- 
 fore I named her Helen; — not the sense of beauty 
 
 — to that I had already attained ; but the fear of 
 approaching her and not keeping her. Yet I 
 search my memory In vain for her features — I can 
 not find them. I must have seen her often, and now 
 I wonder if I ever looked at her. If I ever really 
 dared to look at her. I think she had golden eyes 
 
 — the golden tint of a virgin In a stained glass win- 
 
THE CIRCUS 2S3 
 
 dow through which the sun is shining. How old 
 was she ? Sixteen or seventeen — not older, and 
 perhaps not so old. The fruits of her country do 
 not need many months for ripening. She appeared 
 taller than she was, by reason of her slendemess. It 
 would be unjust to call her thin; slight, yes, but her 
 slight form was full and muscular, and I wondered 
 at the nascent roundness of her bosom. She was 
 leaping through hoops that were held before her, 
 and at each spring I trembled lest the horse should 
 get away or she should miss the large saddle. It 
 made me happy to tremble for her. Reassured by 
 her skill I began to watch the movement of her hair, 
 which each time she bounded rose and fell in ca- 
 dence upon her shoulders. If a lock fell over her 
 face she would throw it back with a gesture of an- 
 noyance. 
 
 The gravity of her countenance showed that she 
 was wholly absorbed in her work. From time to 
 time her lips would part with the little words hop, 
 hop, designed to warm up her horse, who was apa- 
 thetically rounding the circle. Then she would seat 
 herself on the saddle for a moment's rest, her legs 
 hanging, while she indifferently bowed her head in 
 answer to the applause, her bosom, unconfined by 
 her clinging gown, rising and falling with her quick- 
 ened breath. She seemed completely isolated from 
 all around by her gravity, her indifference. The 
 young girls whom I knew, my sisters' friends, used 
 
234 THE HOUSE 
 
 to talk, chatter, laugh, play, put their arms around 
 each others' waists. This one was passive as an 
 idol. 
 
 The show ended with a pantomime, every scene of 
 which I remember. When we went back to the house 
 I repeated it as well as I could by mobilising my 
 sister Nicola, and even little Jamie for a minor part, 
 pressing two little schoolfellows into the service, and 
 with this improvised troop I proposed to treat our 
 parents on the festival of one or the other. Our 
 performance was ruthlessly stopped in the very mid- 
 dle without the slightest respect for dramatic art. 
 Grandfather alone was clamorously delighted with 
 it, for which Aunt Deen reproved him. Reflecting 
 upon the incident, I at last recognised that the plot 
 turned upon a hoodwinked husband. The innocent 
 Nicola had been charged with this part, and under 
 my instructions performed it with wonderful success. 
 But I was forbidden to return to the circus. 
 
 The little circus queen who had made a single 
 spring from her horse's back into my imagination 
 was doubtless destined to remain a magnificent and 
 remote memory for me. But grandfather loved the 
 company of artists and unconventional folk. I can 
 see him now at the Cafe des Navigateurs, taking 
 sides with all the Martinod group against the bour- 
 geois. One day as we were crossing the Market 
 Place he went round the tent to where the waggons 
 were drawn up. 
 
THE CIRCUS 235 
 
 "Where are we going, grandfather?" I mur- 
 mured, with throbbing heart. 
 
 " I want to get a nearer view of these people." 
 
 In fact, he stopped and talked with the men who 
 were smoking their pipes, while the women were pre- 
 paring the soup or mending clothes. He spoke to 
 them in an unknown tongue, which must have been 
 Italian. This language upon his lips seemed to me 
 simply incomprehensible. He pronounced It almost 
 like the words that we use, only dwelling upon cer- 
 tain syllables and gliding over those that followed. 
 But when those bronzed men spoke their words took 
 on a strange accent, sometimes low and sometimes 
 sharp, like gay music. 
 
 Were these clowns or acrobats .'' The Marinetti 
 brothers were absent. To see them there would have 
 filled me with pride. The only important personage 
 whom I seemed to recognise was the rope dancer, 
 and she was somewhat disconcertingly crowned with 
 grey hair, and was sadly repairing a dirty skirt of 
 puffed gauze. I was not aware that its proper name 
 is tulle. 
 
 Timidly my eyes sought the little horsewoman, 
 though I should have preferred not to find her. I 
 had looked too far away ; she was at my side, peeling 
 potatoes with a broken knife. Instead of her golden 
 tunic, she was in an ugly striped gown. Her bare 
 feet — that had been shod with gold — were covered 
 with dust. But in this humiliation she seemed to 
 
236 THE HOUSE 
 
 me as beautiful as in her glory, on the pedestal of 
 her large saddle, springing through hoops amid mul- 
 titudinous applause. My eyes still enlightened by 
 illusion, I found her just as beautiful, and yet my 
 first impulse was to move away, of course from timid- 
 ity — but also, I confess, because I had got from 
 Aunt Deen, in the matter of gipsies and beggars, 
 her fear of vermin, which she always said, are easily 
 caught. 
 
 Let him who can explain these inconsistencies. I 
 found a new and obscure feeling awaking within me, 
 merely from the shame I felt at that recoil, and in my 
 eagerness to be able to forgive myself, I could at 
 once have shared with her even her insects. 
 
 I admired the nobility and also the dexterity with 
 which she peeled her potatoes, never making two 
 beginnings, but removing an entire skin with a single 
 operation. She was condescending without impa- 
 tience to this mean occupation, and I was grateful 
 to her for her humility. As the other day in the 
 ring, during her hippie exercises, she was serious and 
 impassive, absorbed in her work. Yet did she not 
 observe my fixed observation? She deigned to be 
 the first to speak. 
 
 " Peeling is slow work," she observed. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," I replied, at the very summit of 
 happiness ; " peeling is slow work." 
 
 I should have liked to help her. I ought to have 
 helped her, but I dared not. A pharisaic scruple 
 withheld me. Though my zeal might carry me even 
 
THE CIRCUS 237 
 
 to the vermin which you catch without knowing it, 
 I had not the courage to endure the obloquy of peel- 
 ing potatoes in the public square, before all those 
 roulottes. 
 
 Our mutual confidences went no further. Sud- 
 denly a guttural voice called, 
 
 " Nazzarena ! " 
 
 She left her vegetables and went away without 
 saying good-bye. I was greatly moved; at least I 
 knew her name. I rushed back to the house at a 
 gallop, leaving behind me grandfather, waving his 
 arms and crying, 
 
 "HaUoa! Wait!" 
 
 It was impossible for me not to run. Wings had 
 sprouted from my shoulders, and during my wild race 
 my whole being was surging, like our music box when 
 the spring was released. I rushed into the gar- 
 den, bumping against Tem Bossette, who had not 
 stepped aside quickly enough, and who shouted, 
 
 " What's the matter with you, Master Francis ? " 
 
 I replied laughing, but without checking my 
 speed : 
 
 " Why, nothing at all. Nothing is the matter 
 with me." 
 
 I leaped over the cannas, flew to the orchard like 
 a run-away chicken, and threw myself, breathless, 
 against a young apple tree. The trees were in blos- 
 som — it was springtime. The branches trembled 
 at the shock, and a shower of rosy petals rained 
 down upon me. 
 
2S8 THE HOUSE 
 
 I was far from suspecting that I was also gather- 
 ing the blossom of love, the love that does not ripen. 
 
 At school the Marinetti circus had become the 
 object of all our interest and conversation. In the 
 playground, between two games of prison-bars, the 
 big boys discussed sometimes the flying trapeze, 
 which had dazzled the lovers of sport, and sometimes 
 the little horsewoman, preferred by the clan of phi- 
 losophers, I would catch fragments of their re- 
 marks as I passed, and I was burning to arouse the 
 envy of my elders with the superiority which I had 
 achieved over them. Thus torn between my secret 
 and my vanity, it was the latter which won out, and 
 one day, with feigned modesty, I admitted that I 
 had spoken to her. My object was at once attained 
 and even exceeded: they all crowded around me, con- 
 gratulating me, plying me with questions. I was 
 forced to embroider the truth a little, in order to 
 satisfy their curiosity. 
 
 " You are a lucky fellow," said Fernand de Mon- 
 traut, whose jealousy I divined. 
 
 Fernand de Montraut was the ornament of the 
 rhetoric division and at the same time the lowest in 
 the class. He passed for the most elegant fellow 
 in school because of his cravats, and every one bowed 
 to his superior experience in all matters of senti- 
 ment, for he boasted the friendship of several girls. 
 Unfortunately, he added, 
 
 " Then you are in lovep " 
 
THE CIRCUS 239 
 
 Not knowing until that moment what it was to 
 be in love, I at once learned its meaning from his 
 question, and gave myself up to the melancholy which 
 I deemed the proper thing. 
 
 Grandfather having struck up an acquaintance 
 with the circus folk, whom he supplied with tobacco, 
 I found myself again in Nazzarena's presence. The 
 desire to give her something tortured me, the more 
 so because Femand de Montraut, an acknowledged 
 judge, had assured me that one always gave presents 
 to ladies. The only embarrassment was the choice 
 of gift. Now I had in a drawer a collection of cor- 
 nelian marbles which I treasured as if they had been 
 jewels. There were spotted red ones, and black ones 
 with white circles. Nothing that I possessed was 
 more precious to me. For a moment I hesitated at 
 so great a sacrifice, and thought of at least keeping 
 back that flame-coloured agate that the light shone 
 through and which was my favourite. But it was 
 clear to me that if I kept back that one my offering 
 would be worthless. In a moment of resignation 
 rather than of enthusiasm I gathered up the whole 
 lot and ran to my new friend, awkwardly presenting 
 them to her without a word of explanation. She 
 seemed somewhat surprised, but accepted them with- 
 out hesitation. 
 
 " Zat's pretty," she said, " you 'z cute." 
 
 She used familiar words, which I had always heard 
 without noticing their sound, and it seemed as if she 
 had transformed them into another language, all 
 
340 THE HOUSE 
 
 flowers and music. I was emboldened to speak to 
 her in reply, urged on perhaps by a notion of jus- 
 tice: having sacrificed my marbles I had a right to 
 some compensation. 
 
 " I know your name," I said with some emphasis. 
 " Your name is Nazzarena." 
 
 She was greatly delighted at the extent of my 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Aha ! he knows my name. But it isn't Nazza- 
 rena, it's Nazzare-na. Say it ! " 
 
 I must needs learn her accent. After which she 
 asked, 
 
 " What's your name? " 
 
 " Francis." 
 
 " Like the saint of Assisi. And where are you 
 from?" 
 
 "Why, from here, of course." 
 
 How should I be from anywhere else? One lives 
 in his own town and his own house. Perhaps she per- 
 ceived her blunder, for she asked no more questions 
 and it was I who bashfully resumed the conversation, 
 not without timidity. 
 
 "Where are you from?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 What a curious answer ! One always knoT^s where 
 one is from. Well ! 
 
 " Then you have no house of your own ? " 
 
 " That's our house." 
 
 She pointed to one of the waggons, the front of 
 which was painted green. I could not mi«take her 
 
THE CIRCUS 241 
 
 expression of scorn. She suddenly turned away and 
 gazed at the great buildings of cut stone which sur- 
 rounded the market place on all four sides ; my town 
 is ancient and rugged, and its houses were built to 
 last for centuries. Perhaps she was estimating the 
 security of a stationary life, but I was picturing to 
 myself the joys of a nomad existence when I went 
 on: 
 
 " It must be very amusing." 
 
 "What must?" 
 
 " To keep changing your locality." 
 
 I used the word locality purposely, to give her a 
 high idea of me. 
 
 " That depends," she said. " There are places 
 where the receipts are bad. One time we made only 
 seven francs and a half." 
 
 Details of that sort were of no interest, but I went 
 on to confess to an unbounded admiration for this 
 mode of life. At this declaration she opened her 
 eyes wide, doubtless amazed that one could envy her 
 when one lived in one of those great buildings, capa- 
 ble of enduring all sorts of bad weather. 
 
 " AU the same you wouldn't come with us." The 
 mere suggestion seemed to please her, but she at once 
 put it away as an absurdity. 
 
 " Besides you can't know much. But you'z cute." 
 
 Again that expression which seemed offensive to 
 my self-love. I could not remain silent under so 
 unworthy an estimate, and I retorted proudly, 
 
 " I can ride horseback." 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 I had sometimes been hoisted upon our farmer's 
 blind mare, and had even experienced a disquietude 
 akin to fear when long shivers ran through her body. 
 My friend appeared enchanted and promised to lend 
 me her black steed. 
 
 How does the grown-up heart differ from that of 
 childhood.? I had not the least idea of going with 
 her. She did not suppose I was going. I had not 
 the slightest equestrian ability. She had no author- 
 ity over her horse; without mutual agreement each 
 was conniving at luring the other on. It was a de- 
 licious foretaste of the falsehoods which lurk beneath 
 all lovers' conversations. 
 
 Just then, as we both sat silent, a fearful and 
 torturing memory came to me. One phrase — just 
 a short phrase from the book of ballads which I had 
 read and reread during my convalescence, until they 
 seemed to form part of the very atmosphere of my 
 existence, suddenly detached itself from the rest — 
 I heard it within myself as if another than myself 
 had uttered it. It was a line in the legend of The 
 Lord of Burleigh. The Lord of Burleigh is speak- 
 ing to a peasant girl, who is the prettiest and most 
 modest girl in the village, and what he says is. 
 
 There is no one in the world whom I love like 
 thee. 
 
 To be sure, I should never in the world have spoken 
 those words aloud ; I should even have closed my lips 
 tight to make sure of not uttering them. But I felt 
 them as living things, and they thrilled through me. 
 
THE CIRCUS 243 
 
 Now I discovered their prodigious meaning. How 
 could one say such words to some one who was not of 
 one's family, and whom one hardly knew? No one 
 in the world! What about father — and mother? 
 I dimly perceived the sacrilegious power of love, and 
 while I was leaning over that abyss, Nazzarena, usu- 
 ally so grave, was laughing and showing her teeth. 
 
 One of the bronzed men of the troop passed, and 
 stopped before us, scrutinising us. Then suddenly 
 he knocked our two heads together, uttering in his 
 jargon a word or two that I did not understand. 
 
 The touch of her cheek burned me, and violently 
 pulling myself free I felt myself reddening to the 
 very roots of my hair. She only laughed the more. 
 
 " What did he say ? " I stammered, tossed between 
 anger and a totally new emotion. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said she. " That you were my 
 little lover." 
 
 « I ! " I protested. « What an idea ! " 
 
 I could not consent that it should be possible. 
 The love that one expressed must lose all importance. 
 And what next? That way everything would be 
 over. Surely, for love to be love one must keep 
 it to oneself and it must hurt. . . • 
 
Ill 
 
 THE PLOT 
 
 How was it that no one noticed, when I returned 
 to the house, that I had suddenly changed and 
 grown? I was ahnost scandalised at their blind- 
 ness. 
 
 " Well, here you are ! " observed my father, who 
 was beginning to be uneasy about my absences. 
 
 Aunt Deen ran after me to make me put on an- 
 other coat, more obviously worn. I had hastily 
 slipped on my best, for my visit to Nazzarena. It 
 may have been the memorable olive-green of my con- 
 valescence, at last become better adapted to my size 
 after three or four years of growth, unless it had 
 already been retired to a clothes press, in camphor 
 and naphtha, until such time as James should grow 
 to it. I commanded not the slightest respect, al- 
 though the entire household ought to have been 
 struck with my changed countenance. Instead of 
 thinking only of my adventure, which indeed I could 
 not quite understand, I was vexed with the famil- 
 iarity with which I was treated. 
 
 We were all gathered in mother's room because 
 of little Nicola, who was somewhat grippy, and who, 
 being a delicate child, needed watchful care. Not- 
 
 244 
 
THE PLOT 245 
 
 withstanding my absorbing secret I felt that some 
 important event was impending. The too turbulent 
 Jamie was admonished to keep quiet in a comer. 
 Melanie, always somewhat in the moon — Aunt 
 Deen insisted that she was listening to her voices, 
 like Jeanne d'Arc — quietly undertook to amuse her 
 sick sister, so that father was finally able to show 
 mother the letter which he had in his hand. 
 
 " It is from Monseignor's secretary," he said as 
 he opened it. 
 
 I thought he was speaking of the bishop, who al- 
 ways dined with us once a year. But the name of 
 the Count de Chambord occurred in it. When he 
 had finished reading it — I had not heard it dis- 
 tinctly — father added simply : 
 
 " Very well ; I wiU present myself, since the prince 
 desires that nothing be neglected for the welfare of 
 the country." 
 
 " Oh, the prince ! " murmured grandfather, smoth- 
 ering his little laugh. 
 
 Father looked at him with that straightforward, 
 penetrating gaze which was always hard to bear. 
 But grandfather at once put on his most innocent 
 air, such as I remembered him to have assumed the 
 time we met mamma in the street — when he said, 
 " We are going to buy a paper." 
 
 I at once divined that father was the mysterious 
 and terrible leader whose intervention in the assault 
 upon the mayor's office Martinod had so feared. It 
 could be no one but he, and how was it possible that 
 
246 THE HOUSE 
 
 he should not win the battle? A look at him was 
 enough. He bore victory about with him. My 
 childish eyes, still loyal and clear-sighted, could see 
 the signs of superiority radiating from his brow. 
 How should I have guessed that superiority is a 
 small factor in success, since aU sorts of dubious 
 weapons against it are being forged in dark places? 
 I might indeed endeavour to escape from my father's 
 influence, but at least I never dreamed of underrat- 
 ing it. 
 
 The watchful care usually extended to me was di- 
 minished by the Illness of Nicola, who was always 
 asking for her mother. I had remarked that father 
 was making the most of his infrequent moments of 
 leisure to talk with Melanie, go out with Melanie, 
 take walks with Melanie. More than ever he treated 
 her with an affection at once tender and reserved, 
 almost respectful, and seemed to extend his strength 
 over her, as if some one was endangering his daugh- 
 ter or seeking to take her from him. As for Aunt 
 Deen, who almost worshipped her nephews and 
 nieces, individually and collectively, she remarked 
 between going up and down stairs that I was a model 
 child and an exemplary son, and even placed to her 
 brother's credit a large part in this happy state of 
 things. 
 
 I made the most of this relaxed vigilance, which 
 in fact was merely comparative, to continue my visits 
 to the circus in spite of the prohibition which had 
 been put upon them. With a hypocrisy which had 
 
THE PLOT 247 
 
 already become perspicacious, I had persuaded my- 
 self that I was not disobeying when I walked around 
 the tent to where the waggons were stationed. The 
 side scenes are not the theatre. Thus from argu- 
 ment to argument I went on until at last I actually 
 entered the tent. Had not grandfather taken me 
 there the first time.'' He was the oldest, he ought 
 to know better than any one else what was good for 
 me. Besides, no one would know; there was no risk 
 of any member of the family meeting me there, un- 
 less, indeed, grandfather. And Nazzarena rode her 
 horse for me alone, and when she bowed courteously 
 in response to the applause it was still for me alone. 
 With all the ease in the world I suppressed the ex- 
 istence of the surrounding public. 
 
 Nevertheless, as my conscience was not perfectly 
 easy, I clung to grandfather, who in case of need 
 could ward off suspicions or bear the burden of re- 
 sponsibility. I even went with him to the Cafe des 
 Navigateurs, though I had exhausted its pleasures 
 and should have preferred another society. Mar- 
 tinod was unusually glad to see us. 
 
 " Father Rambert ! What a pleasure to see you 
 again! Father Rambert, sit here beside me in the 
 place of honour." 
 
 I observed that if he had formerly excelled in pass- 
 ing over the bills to others, he now kept open purse 
 not only for his own drinks but for those of others. 
 Gallus and Merinos perceived it sooner than I did 
 and refused themselves no indulgence. As for Cas- 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 enave and Galurin, they had never troubled them- 
 selves about the score. I had already before this re- 
 marked a complete change in Martinod; he was less 
 and less concerned with oratorical effect, and no 
 longer sought to dazzle us with descriptions of festi- 
 vals where fraternal embraces were the general order. 
 He produced lists and figures, enumerated proper 
 names and with a bit of pencil which he moistened 
 at his lips industriously addressed himself to check- 
 ing them up. 
 
 A newspaper man having laid the local gazette 
 upon a table, he called the servant to bring it to him 
 in so imperious a voice that the girl was startled and 
 came near upsetting a dish of food which she was 
 carrying. Hardly had he unfolded the sheet when 
 he cried: 
 
 " There it is ! I was sure of it ! He presents 
 himself." 
 
 He had no need of being more definitely designated. 
 Every one in the cafe unhesitatingly recognised him, 
 and I as well as the others. Our group, which up 
 to that moment had probably not felt sure that he 
 would be a candidate, appeared to be deeply im- 
 pressed and indeed quite demoralised. All wore long 
 faces as they bent over their tumblers. Secretly 
 scanning them one by one, as an impartial outsider, 
 I considered their party, however numerous, quite 
 incapable of carrying on a contest against my father. 
 
 Martinod permitted the others, and especially the 
 neophytes who formed a sort of court around him. 
 
THE PLOT 249 
 
 and for whose drinks he paid, to start up, exclaim, 
 though without naming the enemy, while he, inat- 
 tentive or meditative, fixed grandfather with his eyes. 
 As he continued for some time in this attitude, a 
 passage from my natural history recurred to my 
 mind, concerning a serpent that fascinated birds, 
 and I laughed to myself at this absurd idea. For a 
 long time he maintained his fixed gaze ; then, after or- 
 dering drinks all around, except for me, whom he 
 had forgotten, he leaned forward and in a fawning 
 voice spoke in his neighbour's ear, but not so softly 
 but that I heard. 
 
 " So, Father Rambert, you are no longer in your 
 own house? " 
 
 " How so? " replied grandfather indifferently. 
 
 " Why, no ; that fine chateau that you live in isn't 
 yours now." 
 
 He pronounced the word chateau like the farmer, 
 only omitting a few circumflex accents. Grand- 
 father observed it, and it amused him. " Oho ! the 
 chateau," he said ; " why not the palace? " 
 
 " Call It what you like, for all me," replied Mar- 
 tinod ; " the fact remains that it is the finest resi- 
 dence in the country. And well situated — town 
 and country at once. All the same, ha ! ha ! They 
 have played you a trick, and you are no longer mas- 
 ter of the house." 
 
 Grandfather scratched his eyebrow, then pulled 
 his beard. He never spoke to any one of his abdi- 
 cation, not even to me in our walks, and I had per- 
 
250 THE HOUSE 
 
 ceived that allusions to this old story, several years 
 old now, did not interest him. I knew that he de- 
 spised property and deemed it detrimental to the 
 general good. But wasn't that a sacred dogma at 
 the Cafe of the Navigators, too? 
 
 " Well, yes," he replied with a forced laugh. " I 
 am no longer in my own house; there's a discovery 
 for you! My poor Martinod, you are behind the 
 times ! It's many a long day since I've been in my 
 own house and glad I am, as you see. No more 
 bother, no more care. I am no longer the master, 
 but I am my own master." 
 
 Upon this the dialogue proceeded, more and more 
 gaily. 
 
 " Ta, ta, ta ! At your age it's not easy to get 
 used to camping in other folks' houses." 
 
 " At my age one likes peace and quiet." 
 
 " Yes, I know. They have relegated you to the 
 end of the table." 
 
 " I put myself there of my own accord, and food 
 tastes just as good there as in the middle." 
 
 " But here. Father Rambert, you have the place 
 of honour." 
 
 " There is no place of honour in a caf^." 
 
 "And your room.'' — every one knows that you 
 have been hoisted to the garret." 
 
 " Every one knows that I love heights." 
 
 All of which was said banteringly. They were 
 playing at tossing questions and answers to and 
 fro, as we tossed balls at school. Listening to them, 
 
THE PLOT 251 
 
 my mind was for a moment distracted from its ab- 
 sorbing sentiment, and I inwardly condemned myself 
 for this as for a fault. 
 
 The subject soon became a theme for cheap pleas- 
 antries. Every one in the cafe began to talk of 
 Father Rambert's end of the table, Father Rambert's 
 garret. He would shrug his shoulders and take it 
 all laughingly. 
 
 "Really, isn't all that true. Father Rambert? " 
 asked Martinod one day. 
 
 " Why, to be sure it is true in a sense. If you 
 make a point of it, it is true. But what is it that is 
 true?" 
 
 As if everybody didn't know what is true and what 
 is not true! Grandfather was rather fond of dark 
 sayings. That same afternoon we went home to- 
 gether, he gay and sprightly, I downcast because I 
 had not, even at a distance (which I preferred), seen 
 Nazzarena. At the top of the steps we met father, 
 who was waiting for us, and who seemed much dis- 
 turbed. He had a newspaper crumpled up in his 
 hand, and handed it without a word to grandfather, 
 who made no motion to take it. 
 
 " Do you know who wrote that? " he asked. How 
 contemptuously he pronounced the word that! I 
 felt that he was controlling himself, but that some- 
 thing serious was going on at our house. 
 
 "How should I know?" asked grandfather. "I 
 never read the local papers." 
 
 " Very well, read this one." 
 
252 THE HOUSE 
 
 " No, thank you ; I'm not interested." 
 
 " Then I'll read it to you." 
 
 " If you insist upon it." 
 
 I saw them go together into father's consulting 
 room, leaving the door open, and I had no notion of 
 going away. Grandfather sat down resignedly in 
 an easy chair, and father began to read at once. I 
 felt ill rewarded for the curiosity which had kept 
 me there, for I couldn't understand a word of that 
 dull, prosy and ill-worded article, which seemed to 
 leave a bad taste in your mouth like grated cheese 
 that melts in onion soup and turns into a sticky 
 glue that clings to your gums. It was about the 
 approaching elections, and a certain omnipotent and 
 despotic personage, eager to rule the public with a 
 rod of iron as he ruled his household. After this 
 there was something about a garret full of rats, ex- 
 posed to all the winds of heaven, yet good enough, 
 it appeared, for the miserable old man who had been 
 relegated to it, and who was expiating his social 
 kindliness by being treated with contempt and forced 
 into the meanest position in his own house. The 
 article closed with a warm appeal to justice and sym- 
 pathy. No name, no place, was mentioned. How 
 could I have understood the illusions.'' It was too 
 complicated an act of perfidy for a child to see 
 through. 
 
 " Is that all? " asked grandfather when the indig- 
 nant voice was silent. 
 
 " It seems to me that it is enough." 
 
THE PLOT 253 
 
 " Oh, there isn't enough there to whip a cat for — 
 mere vague generalities." 
 
 " Is that your opinion ? " asked father. " Don't 
 you feel how venomous, and how dishonouring to 
 me it all is? Have not you always been well treated 
 here? Whose wish was it to sit at the end of the 
 table? Who took possession of the tower chamber 
 in spite of all we could say? Which of us has ever 
 been lacking in respect to you? When has any one 
 neglected to care for you most tenderly and defer- 
 entially? Of whom, of what, do you complain? 
 Father, I entreat you, — tell me ; this is a grave mat- 
 ter." 
 
 Entreaty followed entreaty, hurrying one upon 
 another, in a voice which gave them a pathetic in- 
 tonation that thrilled me from head to foot. The 
 obscure article suddenly became clear to me, and I 
 grasped its entire significance. Some one was ac- 
 cusing my father of harshness to grandfather. The 
 scene of the abdication rose up before me, and the 
 morning in which I had borne a part by carrying the 
 pile of Limping Messengers of Berne and Yevey. 
 
 " I am not complaining," said grandfather ; " I 
 have never complained." 
 
 "And of what could you have complained? This 
 house has continued to be yours. I have taken upon 
 myself only the duties and expenses which were a 
 burden to you. But these calumnies have not been 
 invented." 
 
 " My dear Michel, all these stories bore me to 
 
254, THE HOUSE 
 
 death. I don't read the newspapers, and get along 
 very comfortably without them. I advise you to 
 follow my example." 
 
 " Because it is not you who are attacked. Be- 
 cause I shall never permit any one to attack you. 
 This attack upon me comes from the Cafe of the Navi- 
 gators. I am sure that you still go there, though 
 I have informed you that it is the headquarters of 
 our enemies. But you place in those people all the 
 confidence that you refuse to me." 
 
 " As for that, I go where I please and I see whom 
 I like." 
 
 " You are free, father, without the slightest doubt. 
 But in a family all the members stand or fall to- 
 gether. Whoever aims at you strikes me. Who- 
 ever defames me insults you." 
 
 " I have no such narrow views as to the family. 
 I have never opposed you ; do the same to me." 
 
 At that moment father saw me through the half- 
 open door, and a suspicion must have crossed his 
 mind, for he cut the discussion short, and pointing 
 to me said, 
 
 " I hope you never take that child there ! " 
 
 "Where, pray.?" 
 
 " To the Cafe of the Navigators." 
 
 And turning to me father added in a tone which 
 admitted of no reply, " Go away ! " 
 
 So that I did not hear the reply. 
 
 I have forgotten no incident of that scene and am 
 certain of having reconstructed it in its integrity. 
 
THE PLOT 255 
 
 and if not in the same words at least in equivalent 
 ones. As I had been successively born into a mys- 
 terious longing by a word of the shepherd who was 
 leading his sheep to the mountain, into the knowl- 
 edge of liberty by a walk with grandfather in the 
 wild forest, into the sense of beauty by having met 
 the lady in white, into the disquietude of love be- 
 cause Nazzarena had told me with a laugh that 
 I was her little lover, so now I was bom into a 
 knowledge of human wickedness, to which all my 
 childhood had been a stranger. Aunt Deen's famous 
 they, at whom I scoffed after having vainly sought 
 them around me, did then exist, and Martinod was 
 one of them, and the gentle and gay Casenave, whom 
 my father had cured, and the old photographer 
 Galurin, and the two artists ! 
 
 This unexpected revelation completely upset me. 
 People went to the cafe to enjoy themselves and not 
 to hatch plots. They drank vari-coloured drinks 
 and made jokes the while. No, it could not be pos- 
 sible! A doubt swept over me, both because of 
 grandfather's calmness, and because the " go away " 
 which dismissed me had been somewhat brusque and 
 aroused in me a desire to take the other side. Per- 
 haps that scrap of paper was indeed not worth read- 
 ing. 
 
 The next day I was in mother's room when father 
 came in with his hat on, coming straight in from 
 outside without stopping in the vestibule. He took 
 off his hat hastily, and we saw that his face was ani- 
 
256 THE HOUSE 
 
 mated and suffused with colour. He had his grand 
 air of a battle, and he laughed as if pleased. 
 
 " I have slapped Martinod's face," he said simply, 
 as if he had said, " I have been to see such and such 
 a patient." 
 
 "Oh, dear, oh, dear!" murmured my mother; 
 " what will he invent against you now? " 
 
 I heard Aunt Deen running heavily, shaking the 
 floor, rushing in like a whirlwind. She had heard 
 my father's words from a distance. 
 
 " Well done, Michel ; well done ! " she cried, all 
 out of breath. " They are beaten ; well done ! " 
 
 There was one who didn't haggle over the defence 
 of the house! 
 
 I made the most of the unusual excitement to steal 
 away. I had no objection to Martinod being 
 slapped, so long as I profited by it in some way. I 
 had been feeling myself more closely watched; op- 
 portunities to slip away were becoming rare. With 
 all speed I made off to the street and rushed in the 
 direction of the town. But as soon as I reached the 
 Market Place I began to walk slowly, even putting 
 on an unconcerned, indifferent manner, as of a 
 loiterer who has no special point in view and doesn't 
 quite know where he is going. Thus I proceeded 
 toward the circus, and started to walk around it, 
 being careful to look about me carelessly, to show 
 plainly that I was walking without a purpose. No 
 one could be mistaken. How many times had I ex- 
 ecuted this little mancEuvre and not always with 
 
THE PLOT 257 
 
 success! If Nazzarena was there, occupied with 
 some household duty, that was no reason why I 
 should approach her, or even greet her. As a gen- 
 eral thing I went past her without speaking, stiff as 
 a poker. Our first conversation had exhausted my 
 courage, and moreover I did not know what to talk 
 about next. Sometimes she would laugh at me as 
 she saw me pass — for when it came to playing with 
 me or mocking at me she would lay aside her pro- 
 fessional gravity as a horsewoman. Sometimes she 
 would call me. I always went to her at her call, but 
 not for worlds would I have spoken first. 
 
 That day she was leading her horse to water at 
 the public fountain. Seen without his trappings 
 and the blaze of torches with which the tent was 
 lighted during performances, this steed appeared to 
 me singularly like our farmer's old blind mare that 
 I had occasionally bestridden; it was a long bony 
 beast, continually wrinkling his skin all over his body 
 to shake off the flies. But I immediately closed my 
 eyes to so pitiful a sight, and imagined in its place 
 the red roan steed of the Romance of the Swan's 
 Nest which, in my book of ballads, bore the Knight 
 to the young girl sitting in the grass by the river 
 side, her bare feet in the water. 
 
 My adored one was absorbed in her work, or pre- 
 tended to be, and did not deign to observe my pres- 
 ence. There was nothing for it but to keep on my 
 way, since she would not turn her eyes toward me. 
 And that horse kept on drinking, as if he were capa- 
 
258 THE HOUSE 
 
 ble of drinking the fountain dry. It was enough to 
 make one desperate! At last she turned her head. 
 She was laughing. The naughty girl! She had 
 seen me then! But in her most natural tone, as if 
 she had suddenly discovered me, she bade me good 
 morning. 
 
 Having given up hope of her speaking, I found 
 nothing to say. My discomfited face no doubt be- 
 trayed my feelings, for she seemed not displeased 
 with my silence, and even spoke of it : 
 
 " So, you are dumb to-day.? " she asked, laughing 
 all the more heartily as she added, " Aha ! so you 
 aren't my little lover any more ? " 
 
 I hung my head to conceal my embarrassment. 
 Not love her any more ! ' The foolish question ! 
 When one loved it was for always. The word al- 
 ways, which my lips could never have uttered, made 
 a strange music in my heart, so sweet that nothing 
 sweeter could ever be heard in the world. 
 
 Reassured as to my condition, and no doubt as 
 to the effect she produced upon me, she calmly pulled 
 the halter. Her horse had ceased to drink and from 
 his moist nostrils drops of water were falling back 
 into the basin. 
 
IV 
 
 MY BETEAYAL 
 
 Because of that word always, continually sing- 
 ing in my heart, the days that followed were at once 
 delicious and bitter, like the fruit that I used to gather 
 too early in the garden. I was sure of the future 
 and indeed of all eternity, enjoying to the full the 
 love that as yet asks for nothing outside of itself. For 
 the slight distress that I had felt at the contact of 
 Nazzarena's cheek when our heads had been jokingly 
 bumped together had soon passed; nothing indeed 
 was lacking to fill the cup of my happiness but never 
 to see my beloved ; my embarrassment returned when- 
 ever we met. If at least I had not been obliged to 
 speak to her! I could not have endured to' kiss her 
 — I never so much as touched her hand. Each of 
 us — so I think now — perhaps believed in the su- 
 periority of the other: she because my house was so 
 solid, and I because of her horse, her golden robe, her 
 talent as a horsewoman, her wandering life, and that 
 indefinable something with which love endowed her. 
 She soon perceived that the two sides were not equal : 
 she could appear in public and be applauded; I was 
 a mere spectator. 
 
 Conscious of her domination, she no longer shrank 
 359 
 
260 THE HOUSE 
 
 from laying commands upon me. She would ask 
 little services of me, — to buy her a thimble in town, 
 or gold thread and needles to mend her fine robe; 
 and to ask for things used by girls and not by boys 
 made me blush in the shop. If I had to add some 
 complementary explanations, I didn't know where to 
 turn to hide myself. She made me help her peel 
 potatoes and delighted in my embarrassment when 
 she saw me casting furtive glances toward the open 
 square. 
 
 " Don't worry, little man ; no one is passing," she 
 would say, robbing me at a blow of all the benefit 
 of my heroism. 
 
 Every day, either morning or evening, I would 
 somehow manage to come home from school by way 
 of the Market Place where she was living. What 
 stratagems were mine to avoid suspicion! Some- 
 times my parents would come to walk home with me, 
 or, the distance not being great, would merely meet 
 me a few steps from the gate. How did I manage 
 not to arouse their misgivings.'' One or another of 
 my school fellows having discovered my manoeuvres 
 tried to make fun of me, but Fernand de Montraut's 
 intervention spared me the vexation of practical 
 jokes. As the boys urged upon him that I refused 
 to talk about the little horsewoman he pronounced 
 my silence chivalrous ; and this opinion, from so 
 competent a judge, filled me with pride. 
 
 The same tawny young man who had knocked our 
 heads together, finding me one day in conversation 
 
MY BETRAYAL 261 
 
 with Nazzarena, jabbered something again in their 
 jargon, pointing his finger at me, and both burst out 
 laughing. As for me, I could have cried. 
 
 By degrees this passion, greater than I, and too 
 serious for my fourteen years, made a chasm be- 
 tween me and my family, all unawares to myself. 
 I forgot the elections, and the newspaper article, 
 and Martinod's slapped face, which had brought 
 about none of the immediate results that mother had 
 dreaded. At the same time I would gladly have 
 made a confidant of grandfather, because of our 
 visits to the pavilion and also because of the lady in 
 white, the memory of whom, until then somewhat 
 vague, was now definitely fixed in my mind. Like 
 a bouquet of fresh flowers I breathed in all the ro- 
 mance of our former walks. Their charm mysteri- 
 ously affected me — was it not to them that I owed 
 the precocious emotions of my excited sensibilities.'' 
 But for them I should probably have been thinking 
 only of playing tricks upon my teachers, or at most 
 of enjoying these first days of spring without know- 
 ing why. 
 
 One Thursday afternoon — our holiday was Thurs- 
 day — ^as I had with some difficulty escaped to the 
 circus, to enjoy the performance and gaze upon my 
 horsewoman, who that day did not deign to notice 
 me, not knowing how to go back to the house with- 
 out attracting attention, I decided to go to the Cafe 
 of the Navigators, where there was some chance of 
 
S,m THE HOUSE 
 
 meeting grandfather. The discussion between him 
 and my father on this subject had already sKpped 
 my mind, and my only object was to get home with- 
 out questionings, with no thought of Martinod and 
 his acolytes. I half opened the door with beating 
 heart; it was the first time that I had entered such 
 a place alone. Grandfather was there ; I was saved ! 
 So long as I went home under his protection no 
 questions would be asked, and my absence would be 
 justified by the very fact. 
 
 I seated myself in a corner to wait until he was 
 ready to go. Near me Martinod was talking with 
 the head of the establishment. I knew him, for he 
 used to mingle familiarly with the patrons, and even 
 in his days of prodigal humour, he would treat them 
 all round. 
 
 " You see," he was saying in a tearful voice, " the 
 bill has been running several years." 
 
 " Send it to the son," Martinod advised. 
 
 " It is not his afi'air." 
 
 " All the same, you'll see that he wiU pay it. 
 That I can guarantee. It's a good trick to pay 
 him against the elections. And besides, the boy has 
 had some." 
 
 Whom was he talking about? I had not noticed. 
 But suddenly Martinod gazed at me, and under that 
 gaze I at once remembered the slap he had received. 
 I even felt a vague remorse at being in his company ; 
 but grandfather had surely kept on going with him. 
 
MY BETRAYAL 263 
 
 After all, he had received and not given the slap, 
 and here he was, raising his arm to heaven as if 
 some one had committed an unpardonable crime 
 against me: 
 
 " That child has nothing to drink ! " 
 
 I should never have believed him so solicitous with 
 regard to me. Everybody had neglected me for a 
 long time, and in fact, but for the passion which ab- 
 sorbed me, and inclined me to privations for the very 
 love of suffering, I should have observed the infre- 
 quency of the glasses of syrup. The oversight was 
 immediately repaired. The materials generally re- 
 served for full grown men were set before me ; I was 
 solemnly offered a verte — of course an attenuated, 
 diluted, inoffensive verte. 
 
 " I will mix it myself," declared Martinod. 
 
 " I'll leave it to you," observed grandfather in- 
 differently, interrupting himself in a heated discus- 
 sion with Gallus as to the Andante of Bach's second 
 sonata for piano and violin. " And no practical 
 jokes." 
 
 " Father Rambert, don't you worry ! " 
 
 Certainly that Martinod was a good fellow, agree- 
 able and slow to take offence. His cheek was per- 
 haps still warm from that slap, and he was caring 
 for me as for his own youngster! 
 
 He didn't mix it the same way grandfather did. 
 The superimposed lumps of sugar were melted ; now 
 he might pour the absinthe. Upon my word! He 
 
264 THE HOUSE 
 
 surely was treating me seriously and not like a baby 
 gorged with milk! That brew must be extraor- 
 dinary ! 
 
 I tasted it and pronounced it delicious, without 
 knowing why, the better to play my own part; and 
 this gained me the suffrages of Casenave and Galurin. 
 
 "That's the first," they declared, "but it shall 
 not be the last." 
 
 I was almost the object of an ovation, and in grati- 
 tude I turned upon Martinod a humid eye. But why 
 did he look at me in silence with that compassion- 
 ate look? Had I a papier-mache countenance? 
 He finally leaned over me and whispered in my ear a 
 few simple words that completed my disquietude: 
 
 "Poor little fellow!" 
 
 Why under the sun did he call me poor little 
 fellow? Did I look as wretched as that? No doubt 
 I hadn't succeeded in seeing Nazzarena the whole 
 day long. Yes, to be sure, I was unhappy, since 
 everybody noticed it. Only no one ought to notice 
 it. This was a secret, hidden in the very bottom of 
 my heart, and no one had any right to speak to me 
 of it. I at once assumed a repellant face, intended 
 to discourage sympathy. But I couldn't keep up 
 this attitude. Ever since I emptied my glass, I felt, 
 as it were, a veil before my eyes, and a warmth 
 through all my body, an enervating torpor, and 
 a sort of longing for confidence and aff^ection. Fur- 
 thermore, I had been mistaken as to Martinod's in- 
 tentions. He was not thinking of my love, he knew 
 
MY BETRAYAL 265 
 
 nothing about it, and with small respect to consist- 
 ency I began now to regret that I didn't hear him 
 pronounce Nazzarena's name. He was fascinating 
 me with his gaze, as the serpent in my natural history 
 must have fascinated the birds, and in a voice of 
 caressing inflections, insinuating, coaxing, he gave 
 me to understand that in my family I was misunder- 
 stood. In ambiguous words, with all sorts of cir- 
 cumlocutions, hesitations, reticences, he revealed to me 
 that my father cared more for one of his older sons 
 than for me. Which one? Stephen or Bernard? 
 At this distance of time I do not remember which one 
 he indicated. Was it Bernard, for his military air, 
 his decided manner, his gaiety, his enthusiasm, and 
 his resemblance to father? Or Stephen, for his fine 
 and even temper, his good marks, his application, even 
 his absence of mind? Upon my word I can not say 
 which, now. Our parents treated us without the 
 slightest difference, and each one was the object 
 of special attention which he was free to con- 
 sider a favour. StiU, I did not hesitate to be- 
 lieve this stranger who did not know us, who had 
 never set foot in our house, and who, I knew, 
 had been chastised by my father for his per- 
 fidy. 
 
 Yes, I was misunderstood by my family. Imper- 
 ceptible proofs started up from the shadows, and 
 grew like clouds chased before the wind. My father 
 was always talking about the absent ones, and when 
 he received news of them he was radiant. Their 
 
^6 THE HOUSE 
 
 letters were bulletins of victory. He wore paternal 
 pride upon his forehead. I, I alone, was systemat- 
 ically kept in the background, I was of no conse- 
 quence. How severely, the other week, he had cried 
 " go away ! " Did he know that I was frequenting 
 the circus in spite of his prohibition, and that I 
 peeled potatoes in the public square? If Bernard 
 or Stephen had been the offender he would have come 
 to know it, and would have scolded them, whereas he 
 treated me with outrageous contempt; I, who was 
 bearing the burden of so noble a love, I was treated 
 only with humiliation and insult. Worst of all, worst 
 of all, my father did not love me — nobody loved me. 
 Everything conspired to make me think so, since I 
 had not once met Nazzarena that whole day long! 
 There was only grandfather, and grandfather was 
 absorbed in his conversations, his music, in smoking 
 his pipe, in his telescope and his almanacs. 
 
 I cast an imploring glance in his direction. Now 
 he was waxing warm with Gallus over a quin- 
 tette by Schumann. At such a time the world did 
 not exist for him. 
 
 I would have consented to get along without the 
 existence of the world, provided he would concern 
 himself with me. I had the horrible sensation of 
 being abandoned by every one, and that this man 
 close at hand who insinuated his sympathy in a 
 moved and compassionate voice had just informed 
 me of an irreparable misfortune. I could have cried, 
 but in the face of curious looks I kept back my 
 
MY BETRAYAL 267 
 
 tears. But on that bench, in that cafe, I learned to 
 know the sadness of being misunderstood, of soli- 
 tude in the midst of a crowd, of despair. Life is 
 made up of many griefs ; have I ever experienced a 
 more intense pain than this imaginary despair? 
 
 Thus disarmed by the very tenderness that bared 
 my sensibility to the quick, and fascinated by the 
 serpent, I unconsciously entered into the plot 
 which was being concocted against my father. Hav- 
 ing accomplished his purpose — more easily than he 
 had believed possible, for he was unaware that love 
 was his ally — Martinod repeated in a heart-rending 
 tone, 
 
 "Poor little fellow!" 
 
 My stifled sobs were suffocating me. He might 
 blazen his triumph abroad, for he had succeeded 
 even beyond his hopes ; the seed of his suggestions 
 was destined to spring up later and bear noxious 
 fruit. But had he not found an easy prey? 
 
 I was still too unsophisticated to know that hate 
 can flatter and smile, look pleasant, appear sympa- 
 thetic or compassionate, and enwrap its object in 
 fine phrases as bandits bind ropes about the man 
 they would render powerless. Hatred of this sort, 
 which with affected sympathy addresses itself to the 
 friends and relations of the man it pursues, certain 
 of wounding him on the rebound, can not always be 
 denounced even later. There are few sentinels like 
 Aunt Deen to keep guard over the sacred ark of the 
 family. 
 
268 THE HOUSE 
 
 It has been said that circumstances conspired to 
 further Martinod's plan. One Sunday afternoon, as 
 I was idling at the window instead of finishing a task 
 — I usually preferred grandfather's tower chamber, 
 but he was absent — I suddenly beheld a wonderful, 
 a terrifying sight! The circus troop was invading 
 our garden! They had come through the gate, 
 which, notwithstanding Aunt Deen's vigilance, had 
 been left open because of the more frequent comings 
 and goings of a holiday. The whole company was 
 swarming over the grass plats and shamelessly 
 trampling the flower borders. There were ragged 
 women with babies in their arms, there were the two 
 clowns whom I had in time come to identify, there 
 was the grey-headed rope dancer and there — oh, 
 woe ! there was Nazzarena herself ! Nazzarena with- 
 out a hat, her hair unbound and her dress in rags. 
 For the first time I realised that she was poor. In 
 our garden, in the carefully tended alley, one might 
 have taken her for a poor country girl. 
 
 Dumb with amazement, I dared neither hide nor 
 lean out of the window. Terror at what was sure 
 to happen paralysed me. Why had they come? 
 What did they want.-' What ill wind had brought 
 them.? Our garden was not a place for wandering 
 folk, bohemians, people whose only knowledge of 
 land was to walk upon it. If only it had been the 
 old-time garden, overgrown with weeds, never pruned 
 nor watered ! Or if only grandfather had been there 
 
MY BETRAYAL 269 
 
 to receive these suspicious guests! Nazzarena, Naz- 
 zarena, Hasten back to your rotdotte and the white 
 tent in which you reign! I assure you that this is 
 no place for you! 
 
 I was actually undergoing martyrdom on seeing 
 them thus shamelessly making merry over our grass 
 and flowers. I longed at heart to cry out, to warn 
 them, but I could not. And in infinite agony I 
 measured the distance which separated the house 
 from my love. 
 
 One of the clowns was already ringing the door 
 bell. My God! what would happen next? They 
 had hardly begun to parley with Mariette, whose 
 uncompromising humours I knew, when the catastro- 
 phe fell upon us. Aunt Deen came flying to the 
 rescue and stoutly made head against the whole 
 band. The dialogue was distinctly audible at my 
 window: 
 
 "What do you people want.'' " 
 
 A chirping voice replied: 
 
 "This is Father Rambert's house, isn't it.'"' 
 
 "What do you want with Father Rambert.? Go 
 about your business. Get out ! " 
 
 What abominable injustice! All the beggars of 
 our town were always kindly treated by us ; they 
 even had their days, like society ladies, and Zeeze 
 Million, who was crazy, and that drunkard Yes-Yes 
 received a regular allowance at our door. Then 
 why not give these honourable acrobats a chance to 
 
270 THE HOUSE 
 
 explain? Aunt Deen, always so charitable and ready 
 to help, was turning them out with harsh words 
 merely because they were strangers 1 
 
 Thus ignominiously ordered out, they rebelled, 
 and poured invectives upon their persecutor, who, I 
 must admit, was not mute. 
 
 An infernal uproar arose. The rope dancer 
 yelled, beating her sides. At last I resolved to in- 
 tervene in behalf of my friends, Nazzarena's friends. 
 Suddenly, at the very moment when I was about to 
 quit my post of observation to fly to the fray, my 
 father, no doubt drawn by the uproar, appeared 
 upon the scene. Without so much as opening his 
 lips, with a single gesture — but how unanswerable ! 
 — he pointed to the entrance. And the whole roar- 
 ing troop retreated, crowding between the two pil- 
 lars that supported the gate, and fled, immediately 
 and most astonishingly. 
 
 I was furious at so sudden and complete a rout. 
 Since it was thus, I, by myself alone, would resist 
 that authority which no one ever dared to brave. 
 All my new-found enthusiasm again sweeping over 
 me, I rushed to the stairs, flew down four steps at a 
 time at the risk of carabossmg myself, to overtake 
 my beloved. 
 
 " Where are you going? " asked father, still at 
 his post, and barring my way. 
 
 I was silent. My enthusiasm was already falling 
 flat. 
 
MY BETRAYAL 271 
 
 " Go Hack at once," he went on. " I forbid you 
 to go out." 
 
 Unhesitatingly, but swelling with wrath, I went up- 
 stairs, gnawing my fists with rage. Was no one to 
 resist him, then.? I, too, like those others, had been 
 immediately vanquished, overthrown, petrified, 
 merely by having faced him. People think it is 
 easy to revolt against the powers that be: I had just 
 learned that that depends upon the character of the 
 government. Again and again I went over Mar- 
 tinod's insinuations. How true they were! He 
 understood; he was a true friend! 
 
 I had only obeyed in appearance. I had hardly 
 reached the tower when I began to listen for the 
 sound of closing doors, and no sooner was I con- 
 vinced that my father had gone back to his study 
 than I furtively crept down and slipped out of the 
 house. Once beyond the gate new courage inspired 
 me: I straightened up and breathed freely. This 
 time, I had no thought of taking a roundabout way, 
 putting on airs of indiff'erence, deceiving any whom 
 I might meet, but ran by the shortest road to the 
 Market Square. The gipsies were rolling up the 
 tent, piling up the benches, the Sunday loiterers 
 looking on with interest. This raising of the camp 
 boded ill — I saw Nazzarena at last ; she was gath- 
 ering together the scattered household utensils. 
 This was no time to be bashful: it called for heroic 
 resolution. In the very face of all the spectators, 
 
£73 THE HOUSE 
 
 most of whom doubtless knew the Rambert boy, I 
 flew to my beloved, like one of the knights of my 
 ballads. When she saw me she cast a heart-broken 
 glance upon me. 
 
 " They drove us out of your garden," she said 
 before I had spoken a word. 
 
 How reply to this grievous statement? No doubt 
 she included me among her persecutors. 
 
 " It wasn't I ! " I cried, hasting to separate my- 
 self from my family. 
 
 " Of course it wasn't you," she replied philosophic- 
 ally. " You are too little. We went to tell your 
 grandfather that we are going away to-morrow. 
 To-morrow morning." 
 
 " To-morrow ! " I repeated, as if I had not heard, 
 or had not understood. 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow. See for yourself. They are 
 loading the things on the waggons now. The Mari- 
 netti brothers have left us. There'll be no matinee 
 to-day — that's one good haul lost." 
 
 To my surprise, she was not angry with me for 
 her expulsion, and even in my grief I observed an 
 unexpected reversal of parts: she was showing an 
 unaccustomed consideration for me, and I was taking 
 on a little protecting air. The prestige of power 
 was doing its work all unawares to myself. Thus 
 she did not suggest that I should help her in her 
 work, though the day before she would not have 
 failed to do so. 
 
 One of the old hags stuck her long yellow face 
 
MY BETRAYAL £73 
 
 out of the nearest waggon, and upbraided her for 
 wasting her time. 
 
 "I must go," said Nazzarena. "Such a job to 
 get ready for moving! Good-bye, good-bye, my lit- 
 tle lover! I wish you another sweetheart; you's 
 cute; you'll find one." 
 
 She did not offer her hand; perhaps she dared 
 not, because of the respect for me which the sight 
 of the house had inspired in her. And I found no 
 words in which to reply to her. I smiled foolishly 
 at her strange wish for me: it seemed abominable 
 and sacrilegious, though the affectionate way in 
 which she uttered it was as sweet to me as a caress. 
 Her departure floored me — seemed to cut my legs 
 and arms and empty my brain. I stood there like a 
 dolt. Time and place were nothing to me — she 
 was going away! 
 
 I saw her in the distance, stumbling under the 
 heavy trappings of her horse, and she made a little 
 gesture of adieu as she disappeared behind one of 
 the waggons. It seemed to me as if she was already 
 far off, and I managed to walk away. 
 
 Where should I go? Associating the cruelty of 
 my family with Nazzarena's departure, I could not 
 go back home. What consolation, what support 
 would I have found there? Father had forbidden 
 me to go out: I could judge of the reception which 
 awaited me. I wandered up and down the streets 
 among the people in their Sunday best, absent- 
 mindedly bumping against one or another, who 
 
274 THE HOUSE 
 
 hurled at me the epithet of blockhead, or boor. I 
 almost enjoyed it, so tempestuously did I long to 
 change the character of my pain. Powerless to di- 
 rect my steps, I automatically found myself at the 
 Cafe des Navigateurs. Grandfather would under- 
 stand me; grandfather was the embodiment of that 
 security for which that dear Martinod was working. 
 
 The room was crowded, and I suddenly felt com- 
 forted by the atmosphere of tobacco and anise, the 
 stir and movement. I lost the immediate sense of 
 my grief, I was even able to perceive distinctly that 
 something solemn and unusual was going on. A 
 decision of capital importance had been arrived at, 
 and from the way they were talking it seemed to me 
 that this was one of those historic events that by 
 and by boys would study in school. Grandfather 
 was the object of a thousand testimonials of honour 
 and admiration. They were crowding around him, 
 congratulating him, shaking hands with him, though 
 this he resisted. And champagne was being brought 
 — highest favour! Champagne on a day like this! 
 I began to feel deeply moved, all the more that no 
 one offered me any. 
 
 " A goblet ! " cried Martinod, that dear Mar- 
 tinod who certainly was good to me ; " a goblet for 
 the little fellow ! " 
 
 And lifting high his own, with a grand gesture he 
 proclaimed, 
 
 "To the election of Father Rambert! To the 
 victory of the Republic * " 
 
MY BETRAYAL 275 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed the faithful Galurin. 
 
 Gallus and Merinos were overflowing with happi- 
 ness: no doubt they were foreseeing that era of 
 Beauty which they had so often anticipated in my 
 hearing. As for Casenave, he was supporting the 
 weight of his head with both hands, his vague eyes 
 perhaps fixed upon some vision. The barmaid was 
 inclining the bottle over his glass : he may have seen 
 in her one of those beautiful ladies in empire gowns 
 who used to come down through the ceiling of his 
 garret to give him drinks and visit him openly. 
 
 " Ziou! " he exclaimed, sitting up. 
 
 As he gazed upon the frothing beverage, and the 
 golden stream, he was seized with a convulsive shud- 
 der. His trembling hands failed to grasp the gob- 
 let, and he hiccoughed with impotent greed. 
 
 Grandfather alone showed no enthusiasm nor even 
 pleasure. His ill-humour was evident. He found 
 small enjoyment in popularity or applause. All 
 this open-mouthed, drinking, shouting crowd got on 
 his nerves. I am sure he would rather have been 
 somewhere else — in the country — for instance, 
 eating strawberries and sweet cream. Still, he was 
 constrained to yield before the general enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 " After all, it is perhaps well," he conceded. " No 
 tyrants, above all ; liberty ! " 
 
 No, indeed ; no tyrants ! In an instant the vision 
 of my father rose before me, standing on the door- 
 step, his extended arm driving away those poor gip- 
 
276 THE HOUSE 
 
 sies. And by way of protest, I emptied my goblet. 
 
 At that precise moment — so long as I live I shall 
 never forget the sight — father entered the Cafe 
 des Navigateurs. Unheard-of act! My back was 
 turned to the door, so that I could only see him in 
 the mirror. But it was Martinod's face that told 
 me of his presence. Martinod had suddenly turned 
 pale, and the hand which held his glass trembled like 
 that of Casenave, so that a little champagne slopped 
 over. Father, before whom every one hastily gave way 
 as before an important personage, or as if in fear, was 
 already at our table. He raised his hat, saying most 
 courteously, 
 
 " Good day, gentlemen. I have come for my 
 son." 
 
 No one spoke. There was utter silence, not only 
 in our group but all through the room, every one 
 attentive to the incident. The apparition of Naz- 
 zarena in the circus upon her black horse would not 
 have aroused so much interest. The only sound was 
 the exclamation, " Oh ! " uttered by the proprietor, 
 who, napkin in hand, stood motionless behind the 
 bar. 
 
 Grandfather was the first to regain self-posses- 
 sion. He remarked, calmly, almost impertinently: 
 
 " Good afternoon, Michel. Will you take some- 
 thing with us.? " 
 
 The offer was received by the bystanders with 
 mocking little laughs and all tongues were unloosed. 
 But the diversion was of brief duration. Father 
 
MY BETRAYAL 277 
 
 merely replied, " Thank you, I came for my son. It 
 is nearly dinner time, and we are expecting you 
 both." 
 
 Thus he invited grandfather to go with us. Per- 
 ceiving that his invitation was not accepted, he 
 turned to Martinod, who was giggling, and meas- 
 ured him from head to foot. 
 
 " See here. Monsieur Martinod, since I have re- 
 moved my hat, I beg you to remove yours." 
 
 It is true that Martinod had kept his hat on, but 
 I knew that it was the custom in the cafe. Far from 
 complying with the order — no one could mistake 
 that it was an order, notwithstanding the " I beg 
 you " — he hastened to pull his hat lower on his 
 head. Interested and enthralled, every one in the 
 room was watching, and a wag in the comer ejacu- 
 lated : 
 
 « He will. He will not." 
 
 My father took a step forward, and to me he 
 seemed a very giant. Alone among them all, it was 
 he who spread terror. In that clear voice that I 
 so well knew, the voice that moved Tem Bossette in 
 the depths of his vines and brought the whole house- 
 hold together in an instant, he said: 
 
 " Do you wish me to knock off your hat with my 
 cane. Monsieur Martinod.'' For my hand will never 
 touch you again." 
 
 This time the laughs ceased. The case was be- 
 coming tragic: one might have heard a spider spin- 
 ning her web. Grandfather saved the situation. 
 
278 THE HOUSE 
 
 "Come, Martinod," he said; "one must be po- 
 lite." 
 
 " Then it's for you, Father Rambert," Martinod 
 replied, suddenly uncovering. His face was blood- 
 less, and no one could doubt of his defeat. 
 
 My father, having conquered, turned to Casenave, 
 lost in his dreams. 
 
 " You, too, friend, would do well to go home." 
 
 The terrified Casenave cried in a melancholy voice 
 which broke the tension, so droll did it seem. 
 
 " I haven't been drinking. Doctor. I swear I 
 haven't." 
 
 Thereupon we went out, father and I; I behind 
 him, and though the crowded tables were full of 
 company, I moved between them without difficulty, 
 so large was the place respectfully made for my 
 guide. By way of not resembling Martinod, whose 
 cowardice disgusted me, I forced myself to hold up 
 my head and appear indifferent. At the bottom of 
 my heart I was in unspeakable dread of what might 
 happen in the street, when we were alone. Never, 
 save perhaps in my earliest childhood, had my par- 
 ents inflicted corporal punishment upon us: self- 
 esteem was a part of our education. But now I ex- 
 pected it. If only he didn't slap my face like Mar- 
 tinod! Martinod was an enemy of the house and 
 I had drunk his champagne. Little did I care for 
 the house, however; like grandfather, I proposed to 
 be free. Hadn't grandfather taken a gun when he had 
 
MY BETRAYAL 279 
 
 failed in the blood of the days of Jime, against the 
 prohibition of his own father, the magistrate, the 
 nurseryman, whom he held in such slight esteem? 
 They might beat me, might abuse me, but they 
 should get nothing out of me. I braced myself 
 against the terror which was gripping me, until I 
 at last came to feel a sort of insensibility, a strength 
 of resistance which enabled one to endure anything 
 without uttering a complaint. 
 
 I had, however, no occasion to make use of the 
 provision of energy which I was laying in against 
 my martyrdom. As we walked along father merely 
 asked me, without raising his voice, 
 
 "Have you often been to that cafe.'" 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " Never set foot in it again." 
 
 I felt that indeed I never could set foot in it again. 
 But would that be all my punishment? We were 
 walking side by side, very fast. Though he gave 
 no sign of what he was thinking, I understood, — I 
 can not tell how — that a great tempest was in- 
 wardly agitating him. He had it in his power to 
 crush me, to break me in two, and he kept silent. 
 Thus we crossed the Market Place, and I seemed to 
 myself like one of those criminals whom I had seen 
 escorted to prison by a gendarme. If only Naz- 
 zarena did not see me! To me she represented the 
 life of liberty, as I was slavery in person. 
 
 At last we reached the door of the house. Be- 
 
280 THE HOUSE 
 
 fore opening it father turned to me, covering me from 
 head to foot with a look, under which I hung my 
 head in spite of myself, like one guilty. 
 
 " Poor child ! " he said — it was Martinod's very 
 expression — "what are they trying to make of 
 you? " 
 
 In my tense condition this sudden pity conquered 
 my rebelKon, and I was on the point of throwing 
 myself into his arms with tears. But he had al- 
 ready regained his self-control, and in his tone of 
 command he went on: 
 
 " You simply must obey. You simply must." 
 
 I at once hardened my heart again. He was af- 
 firming his authority: and though he had certainly 
 not abused it, there was for me only the sacred war 
 for independence. 
 
 Mother, whose anxious shadow I had distinguished 
 behind the window, was watching for our return, and 
 came to the top of the steps to meet us. 
 
 " He was there," said my father simply. " I was 
 not mistaken." 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " she murmured, as if she could 
 not have imagined so tragic a misfortune. 
 
 Aunt Deen, who was close behind her, lifted up 
 her hands to heaven: 
 
 " It's not possible ! It's not possible ! " 
 
 Beyond this I was not scolded. With his will or 
 against his will the prodigal son had been brought 
 back. But, far from being grateful for this indul- 
 gence, which now I better understand as being due 
 
MY BETRAYAL 281 
 
 to the uncertainty of my parents as to the influ- 
 ences to which I had been subject, and the best way 
 of winning me back, I tried to revive with all my re- 
 covered strength the love-pain which had been dulled 
 by all these incidents, saying over and over to my- 
 self, 
 
 " Nazzarena is going to-morrow. Nazzarena is 
 going to-morrow." 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 
 
 I HAKDLY slept that night, and in my half slum- 
 ber I confused the holy war for independence with 
 my loss of Nazzarena. My love was a part of that 
 liberty which grandfather vaunted, and for which he 
 had carried a gun. When morning came it found 
 me iSrmly resolved not to go to school, but to take 
 my last chance of being present when the circus 
 troop departed. The farewell of the evening be- 
 fore had been disappointing. Not being prepared, 
 I had found nothing to say. Surely, things couldn't 
 end that way. 
 
 I complained of a headache, and found ready cre- 
 dence. I understood that I was supposed to be upset 
 by the scene in the Cafe of the Navigators. Aunt 
 Deen even brought me secretly a frothing and tasty 
 mulled egg, good for headaches, and so delicious that 
 I enjoyed it in spite of my grief — at which I was 
 inwardly humiliated. 
 
 " You'll stay in bed till noon," she said, as she 
 carried away the cup, adding — she, too ! — 
 
 "Poor child!" 
 
 At which my gratitude to her immediately van- 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 283 
 
 ished, for I had no idea of being considered a child 
 any longer, since I was in love. 
 
 As soon as she was gone I dressed hastily, but not 
 without a certain care, and ran up to the tower cham- 
 ber, where grandfather received me with surprise, 
 and some signs of pleasure. 
 
 " They let you come up ? " he asked. 
 
 Why should he ask? I had asked permission of no 
 one. He merely shrugged his shoulders and became 
 the philosopher once more — " Oh, it's all the same 
 to me." 
 
 The four windows of the tower commanded all the 
 roads. It was my plan to watch from this look- 
 out for the train of waggons. They were loaded, 
 they would advance slowly. I calculated that I 
 should have time to overtake them. Which way 
 would they go? I had no notion. I imagined that 
 they would take the road for Italy, and I watched 
 that one especially. 
 
 I had stationed myself before one of the windows, 
 half hidden by a piece of furniture, when there came 
 a knock at the door and father entered. I thought 
 he had come for me, and I at once knew that in spite 
 of my resolutions I should not resist. He had the 
 same calm and irresistible air of authority that he 
 had had the evening before ; but, absorbed in his pur- 
 pose, he did not so much as see me, and as he walked 
 directly to grandfather he even turned his back to 
 me. Unless I intervened he would not know I was 
 there. After a brief but courteous salutation he 
 
284 THE HOUSE 
 
 showed the newspaper he had in his hand — a local 
 journal. 
 
 "This paper announces that you are presenting 
 yourself for election at the head of the list of the 
 Left. Is that so, father? " 
 
 I could divine under the interrogative form of the 
 simple phrase that he was inwardly boiling with re- 
 strained anger. 
 
 At the gate of the town there was a blank wall 
 overlooking the lake, which was always swept by 
 waves on windy or stormy days. My school fellows 
 and I used sometimes to amuse ourselves by running 
 across between two waves, at the risk of being wet 
 by spray or even drenched by some larger wave. On 
 certain days when the storm, was severe, such bravado 
 was impossible. We used to say then that the 
 tempest-tossed lake was smoking. I had the sen- 
 sation now that my way would be barred in the same 
 manner. 
 
 How can I have forgotten one traitor word of 
 the conversation that followed.'' Grandfather, ac- 
 cording to his habit, merely replied — at once gently 
 and bravely (he detested scenes and usually avoided 
 them, but Martinod's cowardice was not his style) : 
 
 " I am free, I suppose." 
 
 " No one is free," replied my father, with a de- 
 termined evenness of voice which chilled me to the 
 marrow. " All of us depend upon one another. And 
 you are aware that you are presenting yourself 
 against me." 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 285 
 
 This time grandfather's retort was more sharp. 
 He would not give way, he would defend himself. 
 At last ! 
 
 " I am presenting myself against no one," he re- 
 plied. " I simply present myself — that is all. 
 And I hinder no one from presenting himself. I 
 say again, Michel, every one is free to act according 
 to his good pleasure." 
 
 With an eloquence which gradually grew warm, 
 and which he then interrupted, as if determined not 
 to depart from the most respectful form of speech, 
 constantly struggling to control himself against the 
 vehemence of his own words, father sought to con- 
 vince him by a line of argument which even at this 
 distance I believe I can recall. Why this candidacy 
 at the last moment when grandfather had never 
 dreamed of taking any part in politics, and when 
 he knew that his son was the head of the conserva- 
 tive party? How was it that he did not see that 
 this was a manoeuvre of Martinod, who was only too 
 happy to take revenge for the blow he had received, 
 and to effect the disintegration of the Rambert fam- 
 ily .f" Surely no one would allow himself to be taken 
 in Martinod's coarse trap! 
 
 " And besides," he concluded, " we can not be can- 
 didates against one another." 
 
 Grandfather's little laugh accompanied his an- 
 swer: "Oho! Why not.? It will be something 
 new, and for my part I see no harm in it." 
 
 " Because a family can not be divided." 
 
286 THE HOUSE 
 
 " A f amUy ! A family ! You always have that word 
 in your mouth. Individuals are of some account, too, 
 I suppose. And besides, why aren't your convic- 
 tions the same as mine, since you are my son? " 
 
 " You forget that my convictions are the same 
 as those of all our family down to your father." 
 
 "Yes, the nurseryman. You forget the soldier 
 of the Emperor . . ." 
 
 " He served France. France comes first. I do 
 not include those who emigrated." 
 
 "And your great uncle Philippe Rambert, the 
 sans-culotte? " 
 
 "Don't let us speak of him; he is our shame. 
 Every family has its tradition. Ours, until you, was 
 simple and fine. ' God and the King.' " 
 
 "Well, liberty is enough for me. Once for all, 
 I leave you your way ; let me have mine." 
 
 "But I repeat to you that the solidarity of our 
 name and our race lays an obligation upon you. 
 Besides, your liberty is a mere chimera. We are all 
 in a state of dependence. WiU you force me to re- 
 mind you that I have accepted this dependence with 
 all its cost? The very house which shelters us, and 
 which I have saved, is a witness to the permanence 
 and unity of the family under one roof." 
 
 By degrees the conversation became a battle. 
 Father seemed to me so big and powerful that he 
 could have crushed grandfather with a snap of the 
 finger, and yet grandfather held out against him, 
 with his sharp little voice, and with a vigour such as 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 287 
 
 I hardly recognised in him. To see them thus drawn 
 up against each other frightened me and gave 
 me horrible torment. In my new-bom rebellion 
 against authority my heart was with grandfather. 
 I pictured to myself, under Nazzarena's features, 
 that liberty of which they were speaking in attack 
 and defence. It seemed to me that I should be com- 
 mitting a cowardly act like that of Martinod in the 
 Cafe des Navigateurs when he took off his hat in 
 obedience to orders, showing his white, terrified face, 
 if I did not intervene in behalf of my companion, 
 my comrade in walks, who had transmitted to me as 
 a brilliant inheritance — the only one he had to give 
 — his love of simple nature, of the wandering life, of 
 that independence which proudly refuses to submit 
 to rule, and perhaps also that love of love which by 
 itself alone includes all these. I did not conceal 
 from myself the risk I was running. I foresaw the 
 punishment which would follow, and yet I came for- 
 ward hke a little martyr asking for death, 
 
 " Grandfather is free ! " I cried at the top of my 
 voice. 
 
 I had thought to utter a tremendous shout, but I 
 could hardly hear my own voice, and was astonished 
 and vexed that I had not made more noise. Never- 
 theless, I perceived the immediate effect, which though 
 quite enough to satisfy me, was far from reassuring. 
 My father had turned suddenly, amazed at my pres- 
 ence and audacity. This time the road was closed, 
 like that of the lakeside on stormy days. He gazed 
 
288 THE HOUSE 
 
 at us both by turns as if to discover some complicity, 
 some understanding between us. Face to face with 
 him we were really just nothing at all. He was 
 strong enough to crush us both. His eyes flashed 
 fire; his voice would roU over us like thunder; the 
 storm that was about to overwhelm us would be ter- 
 rible. 
 
 Why did he keep silent? What was he waiting 
 for.'' Still he said nothing, and the silence became 
 more distressing, more tragic. I could hear my 
 own terror like the tick tock of a clock. 
 
 Having taken time to regain his self-control, by 
 what must have been a superhuman effort, he turned 
 from me that gaze that so terrified me, and spoke 
 to grandfather: 
 
 " Very well," he said, so calmly and gently that 
 it disconcerted me ; " I am no longer a candidate. 
 We will not amuse the city with the sight of our di- 
 visions. But I will permit myself to give you one 
 bit of advice. By my retirement Martinod wiU have 
 secured what he wants;- that was all he was after; 
 now do not permit yourself to be any longer the tool 
 of the man who has slandered me ; do you on your 
 side give up this candidacy, which is not at all in your 
 line." 
 
 If grandfather was surprised by this change of 
 tactics, he did not show it in the least. 
 
 " Oh, it would be a great mistake for you to re- 
 tire. You would perhaps have been elected, and as 
 for me, it's all one. My principal object is to dis- 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 289 
 
 avow your political opinions. The family can't com- 
 mand our ideas." 
 
 Father seemed to hesitate a moment as to resuming 
 the subject before deciding to let it go. He let it go 
 because there was another matter even nearer to his 
 heart. 
 
 " Let us say no more about it," he said. " Some- 
 thing of far greater importance has been going on 
 in my house, something that I can not tolerate. You 
 have robbed me of this child whom I entrusted to 
 you." 
 
 The conflict was suddenly taking another form, 
 and I had become its object. In a flash arose be- 
 fore me the scene when I was setting out for my first 
 walk after my convalescence. We were all three 
 upon the doorstep. Father was putting my hand 
 into grandfather's with the bewildering words. 
 Here is my son — it is the future of the house. 
 And grandfather answered with his little laugh, 
 Don't worry, Michel, no one will rob you of him. 
 What did they mean? How could any one rob him 
 of me? 
 
 " How absurd ! " grandfather was saying. " I 
 never robbed any one of anything. So I am accused 
 of stealing children, am I? Why not of eating 
 them? " 
 
 Mockery and irony were, however, too weak a 
 weapon not to be broken in the attack that followed. 
 Not one detail of that scene has faded from my mem- 
 ory. I can see them both, one strong and high-col- 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 cured, in the fulness of strength and vigour, and yet 
 uttering such a groan as trees give forth under the 
 woodman's axe, the other so "old, fragile and shriv- 
 elled, and yet all insolence, holding up his head and 
 jeering, and I between the two like the stake in a 
 game they were playing. 
 
 " Yes," father replied ; " I gave you my son to 
 make him well, not to lead him astray. You yourself 
 promised to do nothing which might one day put 
 him in opposition to our household and religious tra- 
 ditions. Have you kept your promise? I have for 
 some time been doubtful as to what was going on in 
 this little head. I spoke to Valentine about it, and 
 learned that she too was fearful of this misfortune, 
 though in her respect for you she dreaded to make 
 the mistake of attributing an unfortunate influence 
 to you. I do not know how you have managed to 
 take possession of the child's mind. But I can not 
 but know that you have been taking Francis to the 
 very place where our opponents are in the habit of 
 meeting, and where they take advantage of your 
 weakness and your generosity." 
 
 " I can't permit you — " grandfather tried to in- 
 terrupt. 
 
 " Of your generosity," the voice went on more 
 firmly, " or of mine. This morning I received a bill 
 from that place. It is a large one. Martinod no 
 doubt thinks it a joke to treat his heelers at my ex- 
 pense." 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 291 
 
 " Who sent you the bill? " 
 
 " The proprietor of the cafe. To whom should 
 he send it? He brought it himself, and by way of 
 argument he simply said, ' The boy had some of it.' 
 My son was a partaker as well as my father; I am 
 responsible, since, for my part, I believe in the soli- 
 darity of the family. I paid for Casenave, whose 
 body bears already the promise of a drunkard's 
 death; for Gallus and Merinos, poor wretches, in- 
 capable of the slightest work; for that idle Galurin 
 and that scoundrel Martinod. Paying is of no con- 
 sequence — I have been through worse than that, 
 as you know. But what errors have you taught this 
 child? I must know all, now, that I may uproot 
 them from his heart like weeds from the garden. 
 Where is he going? What will he make of his life 
 with that Utopia of liberty to which every hour of 
 real life gives the lie — without the stern discipline 
 of home, without our faith? Don't you know that 
 what maintains our race, every race, is the spirit of 
 the family? Has not life taught you that? " 
 
 I was moved by the tone in which he spoke. Al- 
 ways sensitive to the melody of words, I caught them 
 as they were uttered, and by them I can now easily 
 rise to the ideas which they expressed but which then 
 passed over my head. 
 
 " Have you finished? " asked grandfather, with an 
 impertinence that moved me to admiration. 
 
 " Yes, I have finished, I beg pardon for having 
 
292 THE HOUSE 
 
 raised my voice in the presence of this child. He 
 should at least know — you can bear witness to that 
 — that I have always been a respectful son." 
 
 " Oh, you have paid my debts. And you are still 
 paying them." 
 
 " Is that all? And have you not at all times had 
 the support of my filial affection.'' " 
 
 " Of your protection." 
 
 " My protection is extended only to shield you 
 from those who desire your ruin. And can't you un- 
 derstand that in withdrawing this child from my au- 
 thority, disarming him for future conflicts, you are 
 preparing the way for the ruin of us all? " 
 
 Grandfather exclaimed, " Oh ! oh ! " — and went on 
 in his turn: 
 
 " I should like to know what you are blaming me 
 for. I took the boy to walk when he needed it, and 
 instilled into him the love of nature." 
 
 " And not the love of his home." 
 
 " Is it my fault that he prefers my society? I 
 never try to teach, for my part — I don't go about 
 preaching at all times and seasons subordination, 
 tradition, the principles of religion. I simply have 
 respect for life, for liberty if you prefer the word." 
 
 " But liberty is not life. It destroys everything 
 that should be preserved." 
 
 " Oh, don't let us go over that discussion. What 
 has happened to your son happened to mine." 
 
 "To me?" 
 
 " Yes, to you. When you were little another in- 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 293 
 
 fluence was substituted for mine. The magistrate, 
 the nurseryman, the lover of roses — " 
 
 " Your father." 
 
 " Yes ; he gave you a taste for trimmed trees, 
 raked alleys, for laws, human and divine, and what 
 more ! " 
 
 " Why do you lay it up against me that I am like 
 aU our race.'' " 
 
 " I saw you changing under my very eyes. Do 
 you know whether I too did not suiFer to see it ? " 
 
 " Oh, you were always so detached from me, and 
 from — " 
 
 My father did not finish his sentence, and I shall 
 not finish it now, though I am only too fearful of 
 having discovered its meaning. The respect which 
 he then maintained lays its command upon me, even 
 at this distance. They had both laid bare a hidden 
 wound, which had never quite ceased to bleed. They 
 stood there face to face with that memory between 
 them, terrified perhaps with what they were discov- 
 ering in the past, not wishing to go farther before 
 me, when an unexpected relief arrived. 
 
 Mother came in. She had probably heard their 
 voices from her room and had hastened, all a-trem- 
 ble, to prevent the conflict going farther. With 
 her came the household peace. 
 
 " What is the matter? " she asked gently. 
 
 Her mere presence had parted them, and it was 
 impressed upon me that the conversation would have 
 no further interest for any one. 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 "I am here to claim my son," said father. 
 
 "Take him, take him," said grandfather, aban- 
 doning me to my fate. But he could not refrain 
 from adding, defiantly : 
 
 " Take him back if you can." 
 
 " He ought not to be parted from God," said my 
 mother simply, remembering the time I had failed 
 to come to Mass. Then, feeling that this was not 
 the place for me, she pushed me toward them, as a 
 token of reconciliation, with the words: 
 
 " Kiss them, and go down to Aunt Deen." 
 
 I obeyed, and after being negligently or reluc- 
 tantly kissed I rushed down stairs, not caring how 
 the peace was made, thinking only of Nazzarena 
 who was going away. A little later I heard some 
 one in the garden calling me, but I did not answer. 
 
 I flew to the chestnut grove on the edge of the 
 domain, and scrambled upon the wall, near the 
 breach that one of the trees had once made merely 
 by the push of its roots, and which had been closed 
 by a grating. From this point I could see the road 
 to Italy. Only one chance was left to me — would 
 the circus troop go that way? I waited long, but 
 not in vain. 
 
 They are coming, they are coming! First the 
 waggons carrying the tent, the benches, and all the 
 accessories. What wretched horses were drawing 
 them ! I looked about for Nazzarena's black courser, 
 but he was not to be distinguished from the rest of 
 the sorry jades. Then came the roulottes that the 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE £95 
 
 folk lived in. Smoke was rising from one or another 
 of the slender chimneys. They were getting dinner 
 ready for the long journey. On one of the rear 
 balconies an old woman was combing a little girl's 
 hair, the well known parroquet beside them. I was 
 looking, with all my eyes I was looking, for the blond 
 hair of my beloved. 
 
 Ah, I saw her at last! It was she, there, bare- 
 headed — her clear-cut face and golden tint. She 
 was herself driving one of the waggons. A mission of 
 importance had been entrusted to her. She held her 
 whip upright in the air, but she loved animals too 
 much to strike them. She was sitting very straight, 
 holding her head proudly — how lovely were the 
 lines of her throat ! Why had I never noticed that 
 before? I had never really seen her, so to speak — 
 I must see her, I must see her! 
 
 When she emerged from the shadow of the chest- 
 nuts the sun made a golden nimbus through her 
 curly hair, that seemed to blend with the light, so 
 that one could not tell where her curls began or the 
 light ended. Beside her on the seat sat a little boy. 
 They were talking to one another, laughing together. 
 I saw her white teeth, but her glance, her golden 
 glance, would she not turn it toward me? Nazzarena, 
 Nazzarena, don't you feel that I am here, so close 
 to you, perched upon the wall, this wall just above 
 you? 
 
 She laughed, she was passing, she had passed. Now 
 the roof of the roulotte hid her. I had not called 
 
296 THE HOUSE 
 
 her, she had not looked at me. Was it possible that 
 I no longer saw her face, nor her eyes, nor her golden 
 colour? Is it possible that so tremendous a thing 
 lasted only a tiny little minute? 
 
 My heart was bursting in my breast, and I sat 
 there motionless. Why did I not leap from the wall 
 to the road? Why did I not run after her? Was I 
 nailed to my place? Now I knew that she was lost 
 to me; now I knew that she was always lost to me. 
 Like the shepherd leading his flock to the mountain, 
 whose chance word taught me to know desire, so 
 she, only by going away, taught me the pain of 
 love-partings. 
 
 The pain of love-partings is fixed for me in that 
 picture, a little boy astride of the wall of his ances- 
 tral home, and a little girl who in the morning light 
 goes away along the road, goes away without turn- 
 ing her head 
 
 How fast we hold to our memories! Long after, 
 wheu I had become the master, the farmer came to 
 ask permission to cut down that tree which had cov- 
 ered her with its shadow that last time. " Mon- 
 sieur," he urged, " the leaves are rusty, it is all rot- 
 ten inside, it bears no more fruit, it is losing value 
 every day, and before long it won't bring anything." 
 I resisted his entreaties, alleging vague reasons. 
 How make an honest farmer understand that one 
 would preserve a dead chestnut tree merely because 
 a little gipsy passed under it, so many years ago that 
 
THE DOUBLE LIFE 297 
 
 one dares not count them? If there are inexplicable 
 things, this surely is one. 
 
 My man wouldn't give up. " Monsieur, Mon- 
 sieur, one of these fine days it will fall and break 
 down the wall." I opine that a wall may be re- 
 placed. " Monsieur, Monsieur, one of these fine 
 days it will crush some one passing by." Come, 
 that's more serious. A passer-by can't be made over 
 again. Oh, well, let's be reasonable. If it falls, it 
 will crush nothing but my heart. 
 
 I gave the order to cut down the witness of my 
 first love sorrow. I leaned over the hole which its 
 torn-up roots left in the earth, and was not surprised 
 that it occupied so much room. Now the newly- 
 built wall has closed up the breach, and I feel myself 
 more than ever shut up within my property. As 
 one advances in life, it seems that the surrounding 
 walls draw in. 
 
 Nature changes before we do. Nature dies be- 
 fore we do. Little by little we lose all that gave the 
 past its character. Nothing is left to bear witness 
 to the truth of our memories. Little by little other 
 shadows than those of trees descend upon us. And 
 it is hard to believe that one has been — as perhaps 
 every one was once — a boy astride of a wall, not 
 knowing whether he will jump over, to the free life, 
 to the young girl who is laughing, to love, or whether 
 he will go back, like a good boy, to The House. . . . 
 
VI 
 
 lA WALK WITH FATHEE 
 
 During my long convalescence, as I was not per- 
 mitted to read all the time, I had constructed, with 
 the aid of Aunt Deen, who used patiently to put on 
 her glasses, which she was not fond of wearing, in 
 order to be more accurate in the use of her big scis- 
 sors, which sometimes gave an unlucky slip in the 
 cardboard — all sorts of edifices, chateaux, farm- 
 houses, cottages, and even cathedrals. I used to set 
 them up on a great table which had been appropri- 
 ated to me. The whole represented to my mind a 
 town which my lead soldiers were to besiege. These 
 soldiers, some of them a legacy from my brother 
 Bernard, who even as a small child had begun to 
 make a collection of uniforms, others which had been 
 brought to me some Christmas Eve by the war-like 
 Little Jesus, were innumerable; there were whole 
 regiments of them, large and tiny, thin and plump, 
 infantry, cavalry and artillery. Among the cavalry 
 some were of one piece with their horses, others were 
 detachable, a sharp pointed appendix in their rear 
 permitting them to be fixed at will upon the perfo- 
 rated backs of their horses. One evening there was 
 
 298 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 299 
 
 a tragic assault. The detached general (he was one 
 of those provided with an appendix) had been the 
 first to enter the breach, after which he remounted his 
 chestnut charger, which had been by I know not what 
 subterfuge hoisted into the interior. In the excite- 
 ment of victory I set fire to the four corners of the 
 conquered city, and when I sought to check its rav- 
 ages it was too late. In another minute the fire had 
 consumed everything, and all those houses that had 
 cost me so many weeks' work, and upon which I had 
 so prided myself, were only a heap of black ashes. 
 I was severely reprimanded for having so nearly 
 burned the furniture, and yet I just sat there in 
 stupefied amazement at the rapidity of the burning, 
 compared with the time it had taken me to build. 
 
 The abrupt end of my first love affair, that poor 
 little minute in which it was given me to see Nazza- 
 rena in the sunlight — caused me a like amazement, 
 a like discouragement. Day after day I had been 
 building up within myself my love story, so vague 
 at first and then so rich and serious, continually add- 
 ing something to it — a smile, a word, a meeting, 
 and even a bit of scoffing on her part ; now it was ad- 
 miration for her feats of horsewomanship — now 
 that I had merely passed through the Market Square 
 and seen her roulotte. She had filled a larger place 
 in my life than I suspected, and now nothing more 
 happened. This void, so new to me, was harder 
 to bear than real pain. Unavailingly I tried 
 to shake it off, for I could not as yet imagine how 
 
800 THE HOUSE 
 
 much of comfort one may have remembering things. 
 How should I have known that it is possible to live 
 outside of the present moment? All that was left to 
 me of Nazzarena gone, Nazzarena forever lost, it was 
 less the thought of her than an all pervading lassitude 
 caused by her absence — a lassitude which was dear 
 to me, in which I seemed to find her again, and which 
 made me incapable of taking an interest in anything 
 whatever. 
 
 This condition of mind prevented my paying much 
 attention to the changes which were taking place 
 at our house, I accommodated myself to them with- 
 out effort and every one spoke of my yielding dispo- 
 sition. Since the tower scene a certain embarrass- 
 ment had existed between my father and my grand- 
 father, which only my mother's tact rendered en- 
 durable to either. Though I had not been formally 
 forbidden, I ceased to walk out with grandfather 
 or even to go to his room. He would shut himself 
 up a good part of the day to play on his violin. 
 When we assembled at table he made no attempt to 
 come near me, — it was as if he had entirely given 
 up our intimacy. That seemed to me somewhat 
 ungrateful, in view of the important part I had 
 taken in defending him. Meal times became stupid. 
 One held aloof, another was absorbed in thought. I 
 understood that both of them, by a tacit understand- 
 ing, had retired from the municipal campaign. No 
 one dared to speak of the elections, which were close 
 at hand, but the notices posted on the walls 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 301 
 
 which I read on the waj to school, told me how things 
 were. Martinod's name appeared, and even Galu- 
 rin's, but Pour-the-drink and the two artists had 
 been left out. Aunt Deen talked to herself on 
 the staircase of extraordinary events and horrible 
 traitors. In the end Martinod had accomplished his 
 purpose: the candidate whom he dreaded, the only 
 one he dreaded, had refused to run. 
 
 I also understood that grandfather had not gone 
 again to the Cafe of the Navigators, either by way of 
 observing the truce, or to avoid entreaties to which 
 he would doubtless have been inclined to yield. 
 When he heard that father had been called to the 
 bedside of Casenave, who was delirious, he seemed 
 surprised and even moved ; he had therefore not seen 
 that old companion. 
 
 " Casenave ill ! " he exclaimed. " He must have 
 drunk too much." 
 
 At luncheon father announced to us that Cas- 
 enave was dead. 
 
 " I warned him," he said. " He ought to have 
 given up the bottle long ago." 
 
 " He chose for himself," said grandfather. 
 
 He chose for himself! That was enough to ex- 
 cuse and justify all actions, good or bad, and so I 
 understood it. I saw a reply spring to my father's 
 lips, but he repressed it, and merely added: 
 
 " I have warned Tem Bossette. He will come to 
 the same end, if he does not take care. It is already 
 pretty late for him." 
 
302 THE HOUSE 
 
 " All of them drunkards," summed up Aunt Been, 
 ■who liked to deal in generalities. 
 
 Election Sunday came at last. I knew It by the 
 multicoloured posters which decorated the fronts 
 of buildings and the greater affluence of those that 
 I had to wade through on the way to the School 
 Mass. At the house no one had made the slightest 
 allusion to it. After the spiritless luncheon grand- 
 father put on his hat and grasped his cane. 
 
 " Where are you going? " asked Aunt Deen. 
 
 " Into the country." 
 
 " You have voted already ? " 
 
 " Indeed I have not." 
 
 "It's a duty." 
 
 " That's all the same to me." 
 
 " After all, so much the better," my aunt added ; 
 " you would have been capable of voting for those 
 scoundrels." 
 
 She deemed It useless to designate them more 
 definitely. 
 
 He had almost " solicited the suffrages of voters," 
 to quote from the posters, and he didn't even vote. He 
 chose for himself and I could see no reason to object. 
 Every one had a right to do as he chose and to 
 change as he fancied, — otherwise what would be- 
 come of liberty? As he was going out he suddenly 
 turned to me and proposed that I should go with 
 him. 
 
 " Just let me get my cap," I cried, starting up, 
 as If I had totally forgotten the scene In the tower. 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 303 
 
 Father, who was observing us, checked my enthusi- 
 asm by saying: 
 
 " Thank you. To-day I will take him for a walk. 
 I am at leisure." 
 
 He very seldom allowed himself leisure. His pa- 
 tients were more and more absorbing him. His 
 reputation must have extended far and wide, for he 
 was sent for from great distances; his absences, his 
 journeys multiplied. 
 
 " I am no longer my own master," he said to 
 mother. " And life is passing." 
 
 " My dear," she murmured. " I beg of you don't 
 overtire yourself so." 
 
 She was always devising ways of caring for him, 
 of finding means for him to rest. To reassure her 
 he would laugh, drawing himself up to full height, 
 rounding out his chest. He never needed rest. His 
 robust shoulders might have borne up the world; 
 and in fact did he not carry the burden of the house 
 and of our seven futures? By a strange complica- 
 tion of feeling, though inwardly I was always in a 
 state of revolt against him, I never ceased to admire 
 him. I could not imagine him beaten, or com- 
 plaining. Life was for him one perpetual vic- 
 tory. 
 
 I admired him only at a distance. The prospect 
 of this walk with him appalled me, and I remained 
 on the stairs, waiting for some unknown event to 
 interpose an obstacle. 
 
 " Come," he said encouragingly, " run get your 
 
304 THE HOUSE 
 
 cap — make haste. The days are long — we can 
 take a good walk." 
 
 There was no harshness in his sonorous voice, but 
 rather that encouraging tone that always brought 
 hope to his patients. In fact, neither when he took 
 me home from the Cafe of the Navigators, nor in the 
 tower chamber, had he treated me harshly. But his 
 kindness had no softening effect upon me. I was 
 not in the least grateful for it, but still considered 
 him as a ruthless tyrant bent upon keeping me in 
 fetters. As soon as he appeared I ceased to be free. 
 Had he taken me to the wildest, most desolate place 
 in the world, I should stUl have seen walls rising up 
 around me. With grandfather it always seemed 
 to me as if all enclosures disappeared, and the 
 enfranchised earth belonged to every one — or to 
 no one. 
 
 Why did my father impose upon me this long walk 
 with him, the mere prospect of which chilled me? 
 Hadn't Martinod's revelations showed me what his 
 preferences were? He was proud of Bernard and 
 Stephen, he was always thinking of Melanie. I had 
 sometimes seen him looking at her with a strange 
 earnestness, as if he had never seen her before, or as 
 if he were imprinting her upon his memory; as for 
 me, I didn't count. With all the power of my will I 
 was determined to be a misunderstood son, an un- 
 happy, unjustly neglected child. It was necessary 
 that I should play this role, to keep alive the love- 
 sadness in which I found my chief pleasure. 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 305 
 
 Therefore I set out reluctantly, and let him see 
 that I did. He on the contrary made every effort 
 to be gay. Perceiving that he desired to put me at 
 my ease, I became all the more reserved, in a spirit 
 of opposition. 
 
 We were off at last, not with the slow pace of 
 idlers who have no particular point in view, as grand- 
 father and I were in the habit of walking, but with 
 a light, quick step as if to military music. 
 
 " If we walk fast," he said, " we can do it in two 
 or three hours." 
 
 Desiring him to understand that I was not in the 
 least interested in the walk, I did not inquire where 
 we were going. It would surely not be that secluded 
 place where the ferns grew thick, where furze clung 
 to the rocks, where, apart from the rest of the world, 
 far from houses and cultivated fields, I had been in- 
 troduced to wild nature by the soft music of a cas- 
 cade. 
 
 I remember that as we were passing through a 
 village I gave a great kick to a fragment of an old 
 drain tile that lay in the road. In an instant all 
 the dogs were howling at our heels. Somewhat ter- 
 rified by their wide open mouths and the great hub- 
 bub that I had aroused, I drew near to my com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Let them bark," he said reassuringly. " You 
 will see that it is just so in life. As soon as one 
 makes a little noise in the world all the dogs rush 
 upon you. If you turn against them you make your- 
 
306 THE HOUSE 
 
 self ridiculous. The best way is to take no notice, 
 and just let the dogs bark." 
 
 Somehow I knew that he was thinking of Martlnod 
 and the slap he had given him. As soon as we were 
 beyond reach of the dogs I was vexed with my father 
 for having noticed my movement of fear. 
 
 We began to climb a hill by a good mule patL 
 By degrees as we went up into a purer air, he recov- 
 ered his fine spirits. It was a lovely day in late 
 May or early June, warm but with a good breeze. 
 Spring comes slowly in my country, and vegetation 
 starts suddenly into life. It might have begun the 
 day before, or the day before that, so bright were 
 the leaves, so rich the grass, so gay the flowers. We 
 crossed a grove of oaks, beeches and birches; the 
 ruddy brown oaks formed the pillars of an immense 
 vaulted temple, hiding the sky. 
 
 " Ah," said father, pausing for breath, and taking 
 ofF his hat, the better to feel the coolness that fell 
 from the trees, " how good it is to be here, and what 
 a beautiful day ! " 
 
 I wondered at his raptures over so common a thing, 
 which I had so often enjoyed, not considering how 
 seldom he had an opportunity for such enjoyment. 
 But he went on : 
 
 " It is terrible to be so busy ! Not to have time 
 to enjoy the sunshine and the wide spaces, nor to 
 talk with one's sons as often as one would wish. Do 
 you remember the old times, Francis, when I used 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 307 
 
 to tell you about the wars in the Iliad and the return 
 to Ithaca? " 
 
 I had not forgotten, but those epic stories seemed 
 to me to belong to a far-away and outgrown child- 
 hood. They dated from before that convalescence 
 which had changed my heart. They dated from be- 
 fore my walks with grandfather, from before liberty 
 and Nazzarena, from before love. So I cared for 
 them no longer. Hector had fought to guard his 
 home, and Ulysses had braved tempests to return to 
 his, the smoke from which he had seen afar, from the 
 sea ; but I was looking forward to my individual fu- 
 ture, when I should not be dependent upon any per- 
 son or anything. 
 
 We soon made our way through the cover of the 
 trees and reached the top of the hill. It was crowned 
 by the ruins of an ancient fortress, which, to judge 
 by the broken and crumbling fragments of walls, and 
 by the height of the stiU upright and loop-holed 
 towers, must have been of considerable extent. 
 Brambles and ivy were growing among the ruins, 
 which seemed to be standing out against the last 
 assault, that of vegetable growth, greedy to over- 
 whelm them. 
 
 " I do not care much for ruins," observed my 
 father. " They are poetic, but they weaken the 
 desire for action. They remind us of the end of 
 things, and the object of life is to build up. Still, 
 they have their part to play, evoking the memory of 
 
308 THE HOUSE 
 
 a past of conflict and glory. This was once the for- 
 tified chateau of Malpas. It commanded the road 
 to the frontier. What attacks and sieges it has en- 
 dured ! In 1814, when France was assailed by three 
 armies, though it was then entirely dismantled, can- 
 non were set upon the walls to resist the Austrians." 
 
 I might have known that we were going there. The 
 place is celebrated through the entire province. 
 For what it was celebrated I only vaguely knew. 
 Grandfather had never taken me there; he detested 
 places that every one visited, " where," he used to 
 say, " whole families go on Sundays, places full of 
 memories, great men, battles and greasy papers." 
 
 Father grew animated when he talked of battles. 
 Had not he too defended the house against our ene- 
 mies, against Aunt Deen's they, so fiercely bent upon 
 its overthrow? Won to him for a moment, I had 
 almost asked, " And where were you during the war, 
 father? " I knew that he had entered the army and 
 braved the snow with his company during a bitter 
 winter. But the question did not pass my lips. To 
 have asked it would have been to own that I was 
 yielding to his influence, and I braced myself to resist 
 him. I would have given all this forest of oaks, 
 birches and beeches, all those ruins, so picturesque 
 against the sky-line, for the chestnut tree under which 
 Nazzarena had passed. 
 
 He led me to the edge of the terrace that had once 
 been the court of the chateau, the waU of which had 
 been thrown down. From here one dominated the 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER S09 
 
 whole country; there was the lake with its indented 
 shores, its graceful little gulfs, its green promon- 
 tories, the town rising in terraces above it, easy to 
 trace by its open squares and public gardens ; there 
 were the villages of the plain, half hidden in green- 
 ery, like flocks of sheep at rest, those on the hillsides 
 grouped around their sentry-like churches ; and clos- 
 ing in the view, the mountains, here clothed with for- 
 ests, there rocky and bare. The pure afternoon 
 light, shimmering over all, sharpened their outlines. 
 Here and there a slate roof reflected back its arrows 
 of gold. The various crops could be distinguished 
 by their different colours, by the various shades of 
 green, and all the boundaries of the indefinitely di- 
 vided properties, hedges, walls or fences, and the 
 little white cemeteries with their square plots, near 
 the groups of houses, stood out clear. 
 
 Father named over aU the inhabited places, and 
 then the hills and valleys. His way was not in the 
 least like grandfather's. Where grandfather and I 
 would have looked for such traces of nature as we 
 could find still surviving in its pristine sim- 
 plicity between the havoc wrought by plough and 
 axe, the changes brought about by agricultural toil, 
 he, on the contrary, was pointing out the constant 
 intervention of man, the results of the toil of gen- 
 erations. Instead of the free earth, it was the earth 
 disciplined, constrained to serve, obey, produce, — 
 the earth that in the past had been watered by blood, 
 traversed by armed troops, protected by force 
 
310 THE HOUSE 
 
 against the foreigner, as was meet for a frontier prov- 
 ince of France, blessed by prayer. For a very saint, 
 a popular saint who had brought miracles into every- 
 day life, our Saint Fran9ois de Sales had knelt upon 
 this earth and offered it to God. It was feeding 
 the living; it was giving repose to the dead. 
 
 Glorious, fruitful, sacred earth, the eulogy of Its 
 threefold greatness fell from his lips with such lu- 
 cidity that in spite of myself I was moved with him. 
 
 " And the house," he concluded, " don't you see 
 the house? " 
 
 I looked for it without interest, realising that I 
 had lost the habit of looking in that direction. It 
 was, however, easy enough to discover, on the edge 
 of the town, standing alone, and at its back the lovely 
 rural domain by which it joined the country. 
 
 Like the spirals of a soaring bird, father's words 
 had covered the entire country, and now, drawing 
 in its circles, had suddenly dropped down upon our 
 roof. He went on to describe the house in detail, 
 as one describes the features of a countenance. 
 
 It had not all been built at one time. At first 
 there was only the ground floor. 
 
 " You have seen the date on the tablet in the 
 kitchen chimney — 1610." 
 
 " Or 1670," I thought to myself, almost repeat- 
 ing, like grandfather, whose reflection recurred to my 
 mind : " It's a matter of no importance." But I 
 dared not risk this comment openly. 
 
 A century later our ancestors, having improved 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 311 
 
 their fortunes, had added a story and built the tower. 
 Limited in one direction by the town, the property 
 had been extended toward the plain, then covered 
 by woods. Trees had been cut down to make room 
 for the garden, for fields and meadows. It had been 
 a constant and oft repeated struggle against dif- 
 ficulties, against mischance and against other foes. 
 Did father, then, believe in Aunt Deen's they? I 
 had almost smiled, but he did not give me time. Each 
 generation had brought its effort to the common 
 task, and one or another — that of the garde-fran- 
 9ais, that of the grenadier, — its contribution of hon- 
 our; the chain had not been broken. 
 
 I felt a strong desire to object — "How about 
 grandfather.'' " What would he have said to that? 
 
 He answered without my question, with no bitter- 
 ness in his voice, when he went on. Sometimes the 
 chain had been stretched almost to the breaking 
 point, and the house had seen bad days. He pic- 
 tured it ploughing the waves like a strong ship that 
 has an unerring pilot at the helm. His voice, which 
 in the old days had so joyfully related the exploits 
 of heroes, seemed now to rise, with growing exalta- 
 tion, into a sort of hymn to the house. It was the 
 poem of the land, the race, the family, it was the 
 history of our realm, our dynasty. 
 
 Through the years that have fled since then, the 
 memory of that day, far from weakening, has grown 
 more full of meaning to my eyes. My father had 
 measured the length of the road which I had followed 
 
312 THE HOUSE 
 
 in separating myself from him, and was endeavour- 
 ing to recall me, to overtake me, to attach me to 
 himself again. Before resorting to authority he was 
 trying to kindle my imagination, awaken my heart, 
 free them from chimeras and set before them an ob- 
 ject capable of moving them. Only, hemmed in on 
 all sides as he was by the pressure of daily duty, he 
 had felt the need of haste, he had only this one day, 
 a part of which was already gone, only a few fleet- 
 ing hours in which to effect my transformation^ He 
 was hoping to regain his lost son by a single effort, 
 counting upon his incomparable art of winning men, 
 of subduing them to himself. 
 
 Now, so late, I realise that all he was saying to 
 convince me, to awaken in me an emotion which should 
 free me from my bonds, must have been as noble as 
 a Homeric song. Even then I had some inward in- 
 tuition of it. I do not know if ever more eloquent 
 words were uttered than those he spoke to me upon 
 that hilltop, while evening was slowly beginning to 
 paint the sky and breathe peace upon the earth. I 
 can find no other words to express it, — he was pay- 
 ing court to me like a lover who feels that he is not 
 loved, who yet knows that his love alone can be- 
 stow happiness. The affection of a father de- 
 scends, calls to ours to rise to it; but his, by a 
 unique privilege which in no sense lowered its pride, 
 rose to me, enveloped me, implored me. 
 
 Yes, I really believe that my father was implor- 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 313 
 
 ing me, and I remained apparently unmoved while 
 I should have interrupted him with a cry in which 
 my whole being was outpoured. Yet I was not in 
 fact unmoved. There was too much pathos in the 
 tone of his voice not to thrill through my early awak- 
 ened sensibility. But by a singular inconsistency, 
 that in me which was moved by his voice was pre- 
 cisely the very desire, all the desires, that he was 
 trying to eradicate from my heart. That voice was 
 chanting the stones of the house that had been built 
 to triumph over time, the shelter of the roof, the 
 unity of the family, the strength of the race which 
 maintains itself upon the soil, the peace of the dead 
 whom God has in his keeping. And while this can- 
 ticle was thus making melody I was distinctly hear- 
 ing another, sung for me alone by the music of the 
 vagabond wind, the immensity of unknown spaces, 
 the words of the shepherd on his way to the moun- 
 tain; the apple blossoms showered upon my face the 
 first day of my love, and Nazzarena's laugh, and the 
 hopeless shadow of the chestnut tree under which she 
 had passed. 
 
 For one moment my father thought that he had 
 conquered. His piercing eyes, always studying me, 
 discerned my emotion. An impulse of sincerity moved 
 me to turn away without speaking, and he under- 
 stood that I was far from him. His voice ceased. 
 Surprised by the sudden silence I looked at him in 
 my turn, and I saw sadness sweeping over him like 
 
314 THE HOUSE 
 
 a shadow, that heart-breaking shadow that rises 
 from the hollows of the valleys and slowly climbs 
 the mountains as night draws on. 
 
 . . . Father, now I can interpret your sadness. 
 Alone I have once more made the pilgrimage of Mal- 
 pas, and alone there, I could understand you better. 
 You were thinking of your two elder sons, who, burn- 
 ing with sacrifice, would soon be far away, for the 
 service of God and of the fatherland. You were 
 thinking of your dear Melanie, who, drawn by the 
 severe serenity of the cloister, was awaiting the hour 
 of her majority. The main branches of the tree of 
 life that you had planted were detaching themselves 
 from the trunk. You had been counting upon me 
 to continue your work and I was escaping you. By 
 yourself alone you had sustained the tottering house, 
 and the house, overwhelming you with labours and 
 cares, was separating your own from you. It is 
 the penalty of material necessities, — they do not 
 leave time enough for the guardianship of souls. 
 But you were thinking of triumphing over time by 
 the mere power of your virile love for me, and your 
 eloquence. In one walk, one conversation, you had 
 hoped to regain the ground you had lost, without 
 violating the respect due to your father. The heart 
 of a child of fourteen years is an obscure heart, espe- 
 cially when love has entered it too soon. I did feel 
 the importance of what you were teaching me, and 
 yet I was considering how to shake it off. The less 
 
A WALK WITH FATHER 315 
 
 clearly I understood the word liberty, the more it 
 fascinated and drew me. AU the music to which I 
 was listening was the music that it made. . . . 
 
 My father's disappointment found expression in 
 a gesture. Grieved at his inability to win me he 
 suddenly seized me by the two arms as if to lift me 
 from the ground, and prove that he possessed me. 
 
 " Oh, understand me, poor child," he exclaimed. 
 " You must indeed understand me. Your whole fu- 
 ture depends upon it." 
 
 " Father, you hurt," was my only reply, 
 
 I lied, for his grasp had merely surprised me. He 
 tried to make light of it. 
 
 " Oh, come, that's not true ! I didn't hurt you in 
 the least." 
 
 " Yes, you did," I insisted with temper. 
 
 He replied kindly, almost apologetically, " I did 
 not mean to." 
 
 Ah, I might well be proud of myself! That 
 strength which I dreaded had entreated instead of 
 breaking me: it had not conquered me. 
 
 He laid his hand on my head, no doubt to clear 
 my mind of any mistaken interpretation of his 
 former act, and though he did not lean hard upon it, 
 I felt it heavy upon me. A few years earlier, grand- 
 father, by the same imposition of hands, had invested 
 me with the ownership of all nature. 
 
 " Let us go back," said my father. " Let us go 
 back to the house." 
 
316 THE HOUSE 
 
 He said "the house," like me. Until then the 
 expression had been too familiar to make an impres- 
 sion. This time it did impress me. 
 
 On the homeward way we heard the detonations 
 of small cannon, fired in honour of the elections. 
 
 " So soon ! " he said. " The Martinod list is 
 elected." 
 
 The frustration of his public hopes had followed 
 hard upon his paternal disappointment. For a mo- 
 ment he bowed his head, but it was only for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 The church bell of a neighbouring village rang 
 the Angelus. Another replied, and then another, 
 breathing over all the countryside the serenity of 
 evening and of prayer. 
 
 My father stood stiU to listen, and he smiled. 
 Through this peaceful reminder of the Annunciation 
 God was speaking to him, and through it he regained 
 composure. 
 
 " Let's walk fast," he said, " your mother may be 
 anxious over our delay." 
 
 I was thinking within myself : " One of these days 
 I shall go away. One of these days I shall be my 
 own master, like grandfather." 
 
VII 
 
 THK FIRST DEPAETUEE 
 
 A FEW days after this disappointing walk — per- 
 haps even the next day — I went to my mother's 
 room to get a forgotten school book. I was already 
 turning the latch of the door when I heard two 
 voices. One, my mother's, was familiar to my ear, 
 but its tones were almost new to me, by reason of the 
 firmness now mingled with its habitual gentleness; 
 when we were little she had sometimes spoken to us 
 in that tone to require more attention and earnest- 
 ness in our little duties, or our lessons. As for the 
 other, it must have been that of a stranger, even of 
 some one asking for alms, for it came to my ear 
 hushed, veiled, melancholy. What visitor was this 
 whom my mother received in her room and not in 
 the drawing-room? I dared neither go in nor let 
 go of the latch, lest in falling it should betray my 
 presence. Rooted to the spot, at once by timidity 
 and curiosity, I listened to the dialogue going on 
 within. 
 
 "I am sure you are mistaken," my mother was 
 
 saying. " The child is going through a crisis, but 
 
 he is not different from his brothers and sisters; he 
 
 is not estranged from us." 
 
 317 
 
318 THE HOUSE 
 
 " The chasm is deeper than you think, Valentine," 
 replied the other voice. "I feel that I am losing 
 him. If you had seen him at Malpas, how inflexible 
 he was, how he resisted my exhortations, almost my 
 entreaties," 
 
 " He is only a child." 
 
 " Too mature a child. I can not yet be sure what 
 it is that estranges him from us, but I shall find out. 
 Ah, poor dear, there is no use in trying to reassure 
 me; three years ago my father completed his cure 
 by keeping him out of doors, but he did not give 
 back to us the same child that we had entrusted to 
 him : he has changed his heart, and it is in childhood 
 that the heart is formed. This child is no longer 
 ours." 
 
 This child is no longer ours. The statement 
 lifted me up with a sort of vanity. I belonged to 
 no one. I was free. That liberty which grand- 
 father had not been able to command, even in the 
 blood of the days of June, had all of a sudden be- 
 
 come mine 
 
 I had recognised my father's voice, and my parents 
 were talking of me. But why had they so inter- 
 changed their attitudes that I had not at first rec- 
 ognised them? I had always supposed that they 
 could not change. Mother was always anxious about 
 nothing at all — when the wind blew or the thunder 
 growled, even far away, she never failed to light the 
 blessed candle; or her shadow behind her chamber 
 window told us that she was watching for the return 
 
THE FIRST DEPARTURE 319 
 
 of the absent ones. She was never wholly at peace, 
 unless we were all grouped around her, except, in- 
 deed, when praying, for she lived very near to God. 
 It sometimes happened that father would laugh at 
 her for her endless anxieties. During my illness, and 
 longer ago, when the house had been put up for 
 sale, it was he, always he, who kept up her woman's 
 courage, who assured her of the future, reminded 
 her of the constant protection of Providence. I had 
 never imagined them otherwise, and now behold they 
 had changed parts, — it was mother who was up- 
 lifting father in his discouragement. 
 
 I should have been disgusted with myself if I had 
 listened at doors. Urged by self-esteem, mingled 
 with a sense of honour, I should not have hesitated 
 to enter the room but for the next words, which were 
 uttered by my father, and which nailed me to the 
 spot, the latch still in my hand, powerless to go in 
 or to draw back, so greatly was I impressed and 
 captivated. 
 
 " The same thing took place between him and me 
 that long ago took place between me and my father 
 — the same family tragedy." 
 
 "Oh, Michel, what do you mean?" 
 
 " Yes, my father was right when he recalled it the 
 day that I found Francis in his room, the day when 
 Francis took his part against me — unhappy child! 
 When I was little, I, too, had felt the influence of 
 my grandfather. Only it was exercised in the other 
 direction. He had been president of the Chamber 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 at the Court. Returning home at the age of retire- 
 ment, he amused himself with cultivating the garden. 
 It was he who planted the rose-garden. He taught 
 me the importance, the beauty, yes, the beauty of 
 the order to which man may subject not only him- 
 self, but nature. Perhaps it is to him that I owe 
 it that I have been able to direct my life, to domi- 
 nate it. But my father, who was interested only 
 in his music and his utopias, used to laugh at us. 
 * He will turn that child into a geometrician,' he used 
 to say. It is he who has turned my child into a 
 rebel." 
 
 He added, bitterly, " A father, in his own house, 
 should never yield his own authority to any one. To 
 withdraw Francis from that influence which has 
 gained the upper hand of mine, I should not hesi- 
 tate even to send him to boarding school. It would 
 only be anticipating by a year or two the method 
 we adopted for the older children. And in fact our 
 school is hardly advanced enough for him now." 
 
 " It would be one more expense," objected mother. 
 
 " Money is a small thing compared with educa- 
 tion." 
 
 Thus I learned that they were proposing to ar- 
 range my future without consulting me! Boarding 
 school — prison — was to punish me for my inde- 
 pendence. For the moment I was crushed, — then, 
 in my pride I refused to admit that I was crushed. 
 Would not that be to admit the attractions of 
 the house? Since they were considering the possi- 
 
THE FIRST DEPARTURE 321 
 
 bility of sending me away I would get ahead of them, 
 and would myself ask to go. Yes, that should be 
 the punishment I would inflict upon my parents. 
 Upon my parents only? 
 
 But I could not remain there at the door and be 
 surprised — and besides, I was ashamed ! I there- 
 fore finally turned the latch and went in. I went in 
 like an important personage, steeling myself against 
 the emotion which was getting the better of me. 
 
 " I have come for my book," said I, by way of 
 justifying my entrance. 
 
 Father and mother, sitting opposite one another, 
 looked at me and then exchanged a glance. I found 
 my book — which a careful hand had put in order 
 upon the table, seized it hastily and turned to go. 
 
 " Francis," said my mother. 
 
 I turned to her with an expressionless face, put 
 on to keep back the tears. 
 
 " Listen, my child," she said, — and when she 
 
 called me " child " I drew myself up " you must 
 
 always obey your father." 
 
 Obey ! the word was odious to me. " Why, I al- 
 ways listen to him," I said. 
 
 Father fixed me with his piercing eyes that hurt 
 as if I felt the points of their rays. He seemed to 
 hesitate; no doubt he did hesitate between his de- 
 sire to explain and the sense of its uselessness. Re- 
 covering his natural — and by that very fact, au- 
 thoritative — voice, he simply gave me a proof of 
 confidence. 
 
THE HOUSE 
 
 " We were talking of you just now," he said. 
 
 " Yes, of you," repeated mother, somewhat anx- 
 iously. 
 
 Then came a sort of interrogatory: 
 
 "What do you think of heing when you are 
 grown? " asked father. "You think about it some- 
 times, don't you? What sort of life would you pre- 
 fer? You have your own tastes and preferences. 
 Have you chosen your vocation, like your broth- 
 ers?" 
 
 My vocation! Just what I expected! Vocations 
 were often talked about at our house, and how every 
 one ought faithfully to fulfil his own. During my 
 illness, and in the early days of my convalescence, 
 before my walks with grandfather, I had often 
 thought, and even announced, that when I was grown 
 up I would be a doctor, too. I could not imagine a 
 finer career. I had talked in the kitchen with the 
 peasants who came for the doctor, their faces all 
 drawn with pain, and on the staircase I had met the 
 train of patients who came for consultation with 
 dolorous faces, and went away cheered. Though I 
 had ceased to talk about it it was understood at our 
 house that I was to be ray father's successor. 
 
 " I don't know," I replied, turning away. 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a surprised and disap- 
 pointed tone. " I thought you wanted to be a doc- 
 tor." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " I replied, suddenly making up my mind 
 in a spirit of opposition. 
 
THE FIRST DEPARTURE 
 
 He said nothing more of this hope which had been 
 dear to him, but went on: 
 
 " Oh, well, you have plenty of time to choose. 
 Lawyer, perhaps? There are noble causes to de- 
 fend. Or architect? Building houses, restoring old 
 ones, constructing schools and churches — we have 
 no good architects about here; there is a vacancy 
 for one." 
 
 Thus by turns he extolled the various professions 
 which might keep me in my native town. As he 
 spoke the dastardly thought came to me of separat- 
 ing myself entirely from the house, of achieving the 
 conquest of my own liberty. I sought about in my 
 mind for a calling which would oblige me to leave 
 home. In our part of the country there were no 
 mines nor any metallurgical establishments. 
 
 " I want to be an engineer," I said, 
 
 I had but just made the discovery, and knew but 
 vaguely the nature of the profession. There had 
 been some talk about it in the family for Stephen. 
 
 " Really ? " said my father, without pursuing the 
 subject, " We will talk about it another time." 
 
 " Only," I said, hanging my head and averting 
 my eyes, somewhat surprised to find how one thing 
 followed another, " only I should need another prep- 
 aration than that of this school." 
 
 "Your school isn't sufficient?" 
 
 " Oh, the teachers are good feUows," I replied con- 
 temptuously, "but as for lessons, they are far from 
 brilliant." 
 
324. THE HOUSE 
 
 Father said " ah ! " and was silent. Raising my 
 eyes I saw how surprised he was, and that was as 
 joyful to me as a victory. Perhaps there was also 
 in his countenance another expression than one of 
 surprise. I was giving him an opportunity to get 
 rid of me, as I was pleased to think was his wish; 
 why did he not make the most of it? He turned to 
 mother, who seemed grieved. 
 
 " This requires reflection," he said. 
 
 How could one, at such an early age, find pleasure 
 in tormenting those who loved him.'' Perhaps the 
 picture in my Bible representing the return of the 
 Prodigal Son had taught me the inexhaustible re- 
 sources of paternal love. My father seemed to me 
 so strong that I could have no fear of hurting him. 
 All through life it is those upon whom one most de- 
 pends whom one uses and misuses without mercy, not 
 so much as thinking that they may be weary, since 
 they never complain. And counting on their energy 
 and health one always persuades oneself that there 
 will be plenty of time to make it up to them, in case 
 of need. 
 
 And yet I had discerned my father's sorrow as I 
 stood at the door, and the altered tone of his voice 
 had revealed to me its depth. I am asking myself 
 now if that very confession of sorrow, far from 
 touching me did not lessen him in my eyes, accus- 
 tomed as I had been to consider him an invincible 
 hero — whether it did not change for me that pic- 
 
THE FIRST DEPARTURE 
 
 ture of him which he had imprinted upon me from 
 my earliest intelligence. 
 
 The long vacation did not bring its usual gaiety 
 and diversions, that year. Melanie's departure for 
 the convent, and that of Stephen, young as he was, 
 for the Seminary had been finally decided upon. 
 They were merely waiting for the month of October ; 
 then father would take his daughter to Paris and 
 at the same time would place me in the school where 
 my two elder brothers had finished their preparatory 
 studies — for I had gained my point — and mother 
 would go to Lyons with Stephen. This knowledge 
 cast over our games and our gatherings a shade of 
 sadness, which those concerned tried in vain to clear 
 away. Aunt Deen, who was growing a little heavier, 
 climbed the stairs more slowly, blew her nose noisily, 
 prayed very loud and with a certain impetuosity 
 which must have shaken the saints in Paradise, and 
 murmured Thy will he done in a tone that could 
 hardly pass for one of submission. Grandfather 
 shut himself up ill his tower, playing his violin with 
 hands that trembled, adding other notes than those 
 of the score, went out for his walk at nightfall with- 
 out a word to any one, and seemed to be living in ig- 
 norance and indifference concerning all that was go- 
 ing on in the family. When he met me he would 
 simply make the remark, accompanied with his little 
 laugh. 
 
326 THE HOUSE 
 
 " Ah, there you are ! " while he never spoke to 
 either of my brothers or sisters as he passed them. 
 But his laugh did not ring true; my ear was quick 
 to perceive that our separation weighed upon him. 
 I would gladly have rushed to him if he had not had 
 an air of thinking lightly of all the vexations in the 
 world. The shadow of my father was always between 
 us. I had had no orders to avoid him; our aliena- 
 tion was by tacit consent. We had never dared to 
 confess to any complicity. One day, however, he 
 added : 
 
 "So, you are going to Paris?" 
 " Yes, grandfather, when schools open." 
 " You are in luck. One feels more free in Paris 
 than anywhere else. You wiU see." 
 
 Was he jesting again.'' For me Paris meant 
 boarding school, prison. And besides, had he not 
 often told me that large cities are baneful, that real 
 happiness was to be found only in the fields? But 
 grandfather cared little enough for logic. 
 
 My approaching departure — that departure 
 which I had proudly demanded, and which inspired 
 within me a secret repulsion against which I hard- 
 ened myself, made but small stir in the house — a 
 fact that greatly irritated my self-love — being lost 
 in that of Melanie and my brothers, as a small boat 
 is lost in the wake of a great vessel. Bernard, who 
 had graduated from Saint-Cyr with a high grade 
 that put him in the marine infantry, would go to 
 Toulon, whence he would shortly embark for Ton- 
 
THE FIRST DEPARTURE 327 
 
 kin. Now his first word, on his return home had 
 been — I heard him say it to Aunt Deen, who had 
 hastened, breathless, to open the door, 
 
 " You can't imagine the pleasure with which I ring 
 this bell." 
 
 Then why did he ask to go to China? Melanie 
 and Stephen, too, exchanged mystifying confidences. 
 
 " Do you really want to go ? " Stephen asked his 
 sister. " We are so happy here. As for me, there 
 are days when I am not sure." 
 
 Melanie, with illumined eyes, replied: 
 
 " I must, indeed, since God calls me," adding, al- 
 most gaily, 
 
 " But I shall carry a lot of handkerchiefs, a dozen 
 at least, for I feel sure that I shall cry all the tears 
 that are in me." 
 
 Why, oh why, then, that craze to go away when 
 they said they were so happy at home.'' And I, too, 
 why was I suffering in advance at the thought of leav- 
 ing the house, since I had discovered that I was niis- 
 understood and forlorn, and since I was determined 
 to go.'' 
 
 One evening toward the end of August our friend 
 Abbe Heurtevant came to see us, with a lenten face, 
 so long and dolorous that we all expected to hear of 
 some catastrophe. Mother hastily spoke for us all. 
 
 " Monsieur I'Abbe, for the love of God what has 
 happened.'' " 
 
 " Ah, madame, Monseigneur is dead ! " 
 
328 THE HOUSE 
 
 I was the only one, except grandfather, who sup- 
 posed him to be speaking of his ecclesiastical su- 
 perior. But all the others understood, and bewailed 
 the death of the Count de Chambord, who was known 
 to have had an affection of the stomach for several 
 days, or rather, as our abbe declared, to have been 
 poisoned by strawberries. Aunt Deen burst out in 
 tumultuous despair, my sisters endeavouring to con- 
 sole her, and father uttered a short obituary address 
 which to me seemed lacking in heart. 
 
 " It is a misfortune for France, which he would 
 have governed wisely. Monseigneur the Count of 
 Paris succeeds him: the two princes had become 
 reconciled, and that was the crown of a noble life. 
 But what is the matter with you, Abbe? " 
 
 The abbe appeared to be even more inconsolable 
 than Aunt Deen. Grandfather, who since the aifair 
 of the electoral lists had said less and less concerning 
 his political opinions, could not control his tongue on 
 this occasion: 
 
 " Why, don't you see that his prophecies are chok- 
 ing him? He is thinking of the Abbey of Orval and 
 of Sister Rose-Colombe. No hope now of hoisting 
 his ' young prince ' to the throne. There he is, dead 
 from eating too much fruit. And the new Pretender 
 isn't much younger than the old one." 
 
 " Father, I beg ! " protested father. 
 
 The abbe, crushed and crumpled in the depths of 
 an easy chair, suddenly started up, drew up the long 
 lines of his body till one might have thought he had 
 
THE FIRST DKPAKTURE 329 
 
 climbed upon something in order to orate, and in a 
 thundering voice made confession of his faith : 
 
 "The King is dead. Long live the King! And 
 the lilies will bloom again ! " 
 
 " They will bloom again," repeated Aunt Deen, 
 with conviction. 
 
 His public life checked, father was evidently trans- 
 ferring his ambition to our future: he was fulfilling 
 himself in us. I alone withdrew myself from his so- 
 licitude, my suspicions having been aroused by Mar- 
 tinod's insinuations. It was not difficult for me to 
 accumulate causes of vexation. Thus I refused to 
 consider my departure — that departure which was 
 my own doing — as any less important than that of 
 Bernard for the colonies, Stephen for the Seminary, 
 or Melanie for the convent in the rue du Bac where 
 the Sisters of Charity pass the time of their noviti- 
 ate. Melanie's going away especially wronged me, 
 because it coincided with my own. The people who 
 came to visit my mother on account of my sister's 
 " holocaust " as Mile Tapinois called it, exasperated 
 me; they never alluded to me, no one condoled with 
 my parents for losing me, no one noticed me, and yet' 
 I was going away, too. Even grandfather made not 
 the slightest effort to keep me at home — nor so 
 much as expressed any regret. 
 
 The day of separation came, a grey, rainy day, 
 in harmony with the sadness that hung over the 
 house. The laughing Louise followed, weeping. 
 
330 THE HOUSE 
 
 every step of Melanie, who clung closely to mother. 
 Every one said insignificant nothings — no one had 
 any appropriate words, and the time was slipping 
 away. We must start for the station. We had be- 
 gun to think of it long before the time, and mother 
 added to her other anxieties her fear that we should 
 be too late. 
 
 Neither grandfather nor Aunt Deen was to be of 
 the escorting party. The former dreaded emotional 
 exhibitions, and Aunt Deen excused herself to 
 Melanie ; she simply could not weep silently, and she 
 preferred to remain in solitude where she could give 
 way to her grief without making a disturbance ; hav- 
 ing said which she began loudly to bewail herself. 
 
 I went up to the tower chamber with my sister. 
 
 " Till we meet again, grandfather," murmured 
 Melanie. 
 
 " Adieu, rather, little girl." 
 
 " No, grandfather ; till we meet again in heaven, 
 where we are all going." 
 
 He made a vague gesture which said only too 
 plainly, " I won't spoil your illusions," adding, 
 
 " You are carrying out your own idea. You are 
 right. Till we meet again, then, in the valley of 
 Jehoshaphat." 
 
 He showed himself no more moved over me. 
 
 " Well, well, my boy ; may Paris be good to you ! " 
 
 We went out together, last of all. Melanie kissed 
 old Mariette, who murmured, " Can it be possible ! " 
 and stepped across the threshold. Twice she turned 
 
THE FIRST T3EPARTURE 331 
 
 again toward the house, and the second time she made 
 the sign of the cross. We could hear Aunt Deen's 
 cries -from her closed room. 
 
 We were too early at the station, and had to drag 
 out the time in the waiting-room and on the plat- 
 form. Father busied himself with the tickets and 
 the baggage. A few family friends who had come to 
 bid us good-bye joined us with doleful faces and 
 words of sympathy. Thus we had to endure Mile 
 Tapinois, — whom I could never think of except in 
 her night dress with a candle in her hand, since I had 
 recognised her in the aged dove in " Scenes of Ani- 
 mal Life " — and Abbe Heurtevant, who since the 
 death of his monarch had grown bent, and could 
 predict nothing but misfortune. Nothing could 
 take place in our town without the whole population 
 mixing in. Marriage, departure or death, the pub- 
 lic claimed its share. Mother was politely thanking 
 all these people whose presence so distressed her — 
 she would fain have been alone with her daughter, 
 and I could see that she was enduring martyrdom. 
 The last moments of our being together were flying. 
 Louise,' Nicola and James clung to Melanie — Ber- 
 nard was trying to brighten the conversation, but 
 his pleasantries fell wide of the mark. As for Ste- 
 phen, absorbed, he was doubtless thinking that it 
 would soon be his turn, or perhaps he was pray- 
 ing. 
 
 When the moment came, mother wanted to be the 
 last to say good-bye ; she clasped her daughter to her 
 
332 THE HOUSE 
 
 breast without a word, then, relinquishing her hold 
 she whispered low, 
 
 " My child, I bless thee." 
 
 I was beside her, waiting for my turn to say 
 good-bye. I used to imagine to myself a parent's 
 blessing as a solemn act, such as I had seen it in pic- 
 tures; but here it was given in the twinkling of an 
 eye, and without so much as the lifting of a hand. 
 
 But for the demonstrations of Mile Tapinois, the 
 abbe and several other persons who made a point of 
 uttering memorable words, one might have thought 
 that ours was just any ordinary going away. The 
 train started. Having got in last, I was nearest 
 the door. My father invited me to give that place 
 to my sister. The invitation wounded me, for it 
 sounded too much like an order. Of course I ought 
 to have thought first of getting out of the way. 
 
 Melanie extended her head from the window with 
 no heed to the falling rain. She waved her arm — 
 then as the train roimded a curve she turned back 
 to the compartment with red eyes, but only to hasten 
 to the other window. I knew that she was looking 
 for the house, which was visible from that side. After 
 that she sat down covering her face with her hands. 
 As she remained thus, without moving, father gently 
 took her in his arms. 
 
 " You know, my child, if it makes you too un- 
 happy, I shall take you home again." 
 
 She raised her head, tears raining down her cheeks, 
 and with a heart-broken smile replied. 
 
THE FIRST DEPARTURE 333 
 
 " Oh, father, it is truly my vocation. Only I have 
 been so happy at home, — and never again to see our 
 mother, nor the house — it is hard ! " 
 
 " And for us ? " said my father. 
 
 He turned away his head. Perhaps if I had bet- 
 ter appreciated his grief, I should have suffered less, 
 in my comer, from thinking myself forgotten. But 
 as he controlled himself, I was free to torment myself 
 to my heart's content. My sister was going away 
 to carry out her own idea, as grandfather had said, 
 whereas I was being sent to prison, I quite forgot 
 that I had myself asked to be sent. But had I not 
 been a prisoner already, at our house? And in my 
 rebellion, working myself up with the thought of 
 Nazzarena on the high road, the sun shining through 
 her hair and her teeth parted in her smile, I repeated 
 to myself the phrase which chimed with the movement 
 of the train, 
 
 " I want to be free ! I want to be free ! " 
 
BOOK IV 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 
 
 I WAS being prepared for liberty by years of se- 
 clusion, the history of which, after so many petty 
 rebellions, I shall not set down here. I never became 
 wonted to that boarding school to which I had de- 
 manded to be sent in a moment of pride which for 
 nothing in the world would I have disavowed. Yet 
 I passed for a good scholar, whose only fault was 
 a little reserve or dissimulation, 
 
 I suffered frightfully during the first absence 
 from home. I used to cry in the dormitory, my head 
 smothered in the covers, until I fell asleep, enwrapped 
 in my sorrow. But I never uttered a word of com- 
 plaint. 
 
 My parents no doubt thought that I had accepted 
 my new life without difficulty. My father wrote to 
 me regularly and at length: no doubt this cor- 
 respondence made an addition to his burdens for 
 which I was not in the least obliged to him. Self 
 love urged me to repel all his advances. Knowing 
 nothing of Martinod's insinuations, how should he 
 have guessed that I saw on every side injustice to my- 
 self, marks of preference for my brothers ? I system- 
 atically distorted phrases, sentiments, thoughts. 
 
 337 
 
338 THE HOUSE 
 
 If, In his virile love, he avoided expressions of af- 
 fection, for fear of softening me, I accused him of 
 harshness. If on the other hand he gave way to his 
 fondness for me, it was simply to deceive me, and 
 impose aU the more upon me an authority which I 
 exaggerated to the point of imagining that it was 
 everywhere about me, an imagined persecution which 
 became unsupportable. I usually wrote to my 
 mother, and he never remarked upon the fact. Yet 
 he noticed it, and several of his letters showed that 
 he did. " I know," he once wrote, " that you do not 
 care to confide In your father." And mother, who 
 had also noticed it, missed no opportunity of writ- 
 ing about him, emphasising his kindness of heart 
 above all his other merits, reminding me of instances 
 of it, which exasperated me. If he had become 
 aware of my purposed and tenacious hostility, he 
 had no suspicion of Its cause; and so the chasm 
 which in the beginning a single step might easily 
 have crossed, grew ever wider between us. 
 
 This tension of my mind inspired in me a great 
 ardour for work. I achieved brilliant successes with 
 perfect indifference, successes which contributed to 
 deceive my family, who found in them a proof that 
 I had accepted my new discipline. A good pupU, 
 as my bulletins had it, could not but be a fine child 
 and the joy of his family. Aunt Deen sent me ex- 
 travagant compliments in bad handwriting, setting 
 all down to the account of my filial affection. From 
 grandfather I never heard. 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 339 
 
 But what were these positive results in compari- 
 son with the inward experiences that were going on 
 in me? Little by little I relinquished all religious 
 practices, building up for myself a sort of mysti- 
 cism in which I formed a habit of taking refuge. 
 Imagination substituted for my walks in the forest 
 and other wild retreats, and even for my meetings 
 with Nazzarena, a sort of abstract notion of nature 
 and of love in which I found intense joy. I invented 
 elusive landscapes and ideal passions. I was at the 
 age in which one most easily lives in metaphysical 
 chimeras, when ideas are mistaken for affections, 
 and the sensibilities have no need of the spring-board 
 of reality to leap into action. In my dreams I was 
 my own master, until such time as life should make 
 me independent. I had discovered the independence 
 of the brain, and that it can supply all that is lack- 
 ing. And to crown all, I threw myself into music 
 as into an element which takes one's own shape ; plas- 
 tic and so to say liquid, it lent itself to all my long- 
 ings with a docility which filled me with wonder. I 
 had come upon the FreiscTwitz and Ewryanthe, that 
 forest where the alleys reach beyond sight. It was 
 more beautiful and especially more vast than the one 
 which long ago had awakened me to the latent life 
 of things. By it I scaled mountains higher and more 
 inaccessible than that to which the shepherd had been 
 leading his flock. And sometimes the sharp' pain of 
 the notes that I drew from my instrument brought 
 back to me the unforgettable lamentation of the 
 
340 THE HOUSE 
 
 nightingale in love with the rose: All night long I 
 wear out my throat for her, hut she sleeps and hears 
 me not. For her? I did not know her name, I could 
 not perceive her face, but that she existed I had not 
 the slightest doubt. But — strange phenomenon — 
 she was no longer Nazzarena: fidelity itself was but 
 one more chain to break. 
 
 With the help of music and of my thoughts I built 
 for myself a palace into which no visitor was ad- 
 mitted: they thought me present, and simply absent- 
 minded, when in fact I had retreated to my solitude, 
 the only place where I was actually myself. This 
 faculty of concentration set me apart from friend- 
 ship. No schoolfellow was admitted to my friend- 
 ship ; so that my family, against which I was in re- 
 bellion, by itself alone represented to me all humanity. 
 
 Thus all the seeds dropped during my convales- 
 cence were germinating in me after the lapse of a 
 few years. I was free within myself, and no one sus- 
 pected it. My parents were satisfied with my con- 
 duct and my place in school. I had the reputation 
 of being quiet, obedient and easy to manage, and 
 under the shelter of that reputation I let myself glide 
 peacefully into a happy state in which I recognised 
 no other law than my own and which was pretty near 
 to anarchy. I made sacrifices to contingencies, but 
 they courted for little in comparison with my inward 
 
 joys- 
 
 When I went home for vacations my coldness and 
 indifference surprised and saddened my family. Un- 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 341 
 
 able to understand them, they attributed them to hu- 
 mility, to the reserve which was characteristic of 
 me, and they multiplied efforts to bring me back 
 to natural ways — only to make me all the more dis- 
 tant. The laugh of Louise, who was now the flower 
 of the house, was as powerless to thaw me out as the 
 martial exhortations .of Bernard, at home on leave, 
 which simply exasperated me. As for the two 
 younger children, Nicola and Jamie, I inspired in 
 them a sort of fear, so that they avoided me. After 
 having alienated them, there was nothing for me but 
 to be vexed at their bad dispositions, which I was not 
 slow to do. 
 
 Aunt Deen, seeking for a flattering explanation of 
 my changed humour, discovered this: 
 
 " He is so superior ! " 
 
 When my father got hold of me, with a little time 
 to spare, he tried all means to resume the conver- 
 sation that we had had on the hill of Malpas, that 
 election day. With a secret disquietude which I felt, 
 and which in a spirit of opposition only anchored me 
 the more firmly in my attitude, he saw that I had 
 closed my eyes to all that pertained to the field of 
 observation, whether it were history, the past, tra- 
 dition, laws, manners and customs, or practical every- 
 day life, and confined myself to abstract reading, 
 philosophy, mathematics, or threw myself still more 
 absorbingly into music — an ambiguous and unde- 
 fined regime, the mirages of which he dreaded for me. 
 Deeply affected by the departure of Melanie and 
 
342 THE HOUSE 
 
 Stephen and the approaching absence of Bernard, 
 who was at home merely for a few months before set- 
 ting out for his destination in Tonkin, where the war 
 seemed hkely to be unending, he had hoped to talk 
 intimately with me, to win me back, to guide me. I 
 would listen to him courteously, hardly replying, 
 and he could not misunderstand my silence and my 
 distant manner. He never wearied in pointing out 
 to me the superiority which in every profession, in 
 all the course of human existence, is conferred by a 
 clear vision of realities. How much intelligence, 
 tact, even diplomacy, he must have expended in that 
 eifort to win me back which I constantly evaded, I 
 now realise as I recall it all. 
 
 Nicola and James, now grown beyond babyhood, 
 used to accompany us in these walks which were such 
 a bore to me, and which recalled others, that I had 
 loved ; they were interested in his conversation, which 
 almost became a monologue, and in after years I 
 discovered in them the impress of these teachings by 
 which they had unconsciously profited, while I was 
 determinedly refractory to them. Sometimes I 
 would hear in his voice — suddenly grown imperious 
 — the echo of that which on that memorable day had 
 thrilled me to the marrow, and I almost expected to 
 hear him say, as then. But understand me, poor child. 
 You must indeed understand me — your future is at 
 stake — then the excited voice would calm itself, or 
 would be silent. My father had recognised the use- 
 lessness of his effort. 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 343 
 
 I was able also effectively to evade the solicitations 
 of my mother, who sought my confidence and was 
 troubled by my indifference to religion. 
 
 " You don't pray enough," she would say to me. 
 " You don't know how necessary it is. It is the most 
 real thing in the world." 
 
 I had, however, been clever enough to resume re- 
 lations with grandfather without awakening sus- 
 picion. We used to practise together, though he 
 trembled a little and his violin seemed tremulous. 
 Or we would discuss a sonata or a symphony for 
 hours together. Thus I had watched him admir- 
 ingly years ago, in the Cafe des Navigateurs, getting 
 off into a corner with Gallus. If any member of the 
 family imdertook to join in our conversation we 
 would gaze at him in a superior manner, as at a pro- 
 fane person incapable of an intelligent opinion. 
 Music could have meaning only for us ; it belonged 
 to us ; and through it we resumed our former inti- 
 macy. 
 
 I had entered upon my eighteenth year when the 
 event occurred which was to decide my future life. 
 The baccalaureates had covered me with honour, 
 and for a year past I had been preparing for the 
 Central School, with no particular drawing toward 
 it, and even with perfect indifference. A certain 
 taste for natural sciences, purposely abandoned, had 
 for a time given my father the false hope that I should 
 return to the plans of my childhood, and could even 
 be his successor some day. But I had chosen the 
 
344 THE HOUSE 
 
 calling of engineer because it would take me away 
 from home, and permit me to be my own master. 
 
 When the time came for us to return home the 
 first figure that we never failed to see on the plat- 
 form at the station was that of our father, who had 
 hastened to meet us. His face would be actually il- 
 luminated with paternal love. I used to greet him 
 as if I had left him the day before, but he would not 
 let himself be put ofF so, and would always open his 
 arms to me as if he were finding me after I had long 
 been lost. These effusions in public appeared to me 
 very vulgar, and I evaded them most artfully. 
 
 It was the end of July. Examinations over, I 
 had come home for the vacation. Having thor- 
 oughly irritated me by clasping me to his breast, my 
 father had me get into a carriage, my valise at our 
 feet, and we took the road to the house, which was 
 at the other end of the town, and on its outskirts, 
 as I have elsewhere described. 
 
 We were crossing the Market Square when a group 
 of the lower sort of people cast hostile glances at us, 
 accompanied by low growls ; then some one cried, 
 
 " Down with Rambert." 
 
 I turned in amazement to my father, who had made 
 no reply, and was even smiling at those who insulted 
 him ; — oh, not that smile that I had already seen 
 upon his lips when preparing for a conflict, but a 
 smile almost of sympath}"^, of commiseration. Why 
 this sudden unpopularity? They might refuse to 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 845 
 
 elect him, but they had respected, and above all, 
 feared him. The coachman had already whipped up 
 his horse, a few hoots pursued us. I could not but 
 ask what it all meant. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," he said. '' Some poor creatures. 
 I will tell you about it." 
 
 The household rushed to the steps to meet us. It 
 was the usual proceeding, at the return of each ab- 
 sent one. Grandfather alone did not stir, and I heard 
 his violin giving forth its plaintive melody from the 
 tower chamber. Father told of the manifestations 
 of which we had been victims. 
 
 " Oh, the wretches ! " exclaimed Aunt Deen, who 
 by reason of rheumatism in the leg limped a little, 
 but whom years had robbed of none of her warlike 
 virtue. " They came all the way here a while ago ; 
 they or some others. Fortunately the gate was 
 closed." 
 
 She had barricaded us against " them," our enemies. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " murmured mother — " if only 
 nothing happens to you, Michel ! " 
 
 Father explained the recent incident. The mu- 
 nicipality which had been elected three years pre- 
 viously had given orders for important aqueducts 
 to be built to bring water to the public fountains. 
 These works had been awarded to a somewhat un- 
 scrupulous and even disreputable contractor, who 
 had been put forward by important political influ- 
 ences. It appeared that within a few days father 
 had discovered two or three cases of typhus, both 
 
346 THE HOUSE 
 
 in the Hospital and in the working people's quarter, 
 and he attributed them to the water recently intro- 
 duced into the city, which must have been either con- 
 taminated or ill trapped. If he had been correct 
 in his diagnosis of the origin of the disease he dreaded 
 an epidemic. He had therefore at once laid before 
 the mayor a request for the immediate closing of the 
 suspected fountains, and had asked for a decree en- 
 joining the use of boiled water only, with other pre- 
 cautionary measures. Whereupon the mayor, who 
 was a grocer by the name of Baboulin, being advised 
 by his deputy, Martinod, had refused the request 
 out of deference to public sentiment. Our town, 
 built like an amphitheatre above the lake, was a 
 chosen summer resort of a large colony of strangers. 
 If there should be any talk of contagion the season's 
 business would be ruined at a stroke. And besides, 
 it would have been an avowal of the Inadequacy of 
 those famous Improvements of which, according to 
 custom, much had been made to add to the fame of 
 the town. The quarrel had leaked out, and the pub- 
 lic had violently taken the side against the prophet 
 of evil. 
 
 I listened to the story with the indulgence of a 
 traveller whose duty it is to share politely In the In- 
 terests of his hosts. This was provincial gossip, 
 quick to be bom, soon to die ; and I had come from 
 Paris. Our friend Abb^ Heurtevant dropped In at 
 nightfall to lend strength to them. Since the de- 
 cease of the Count de Chambord he had predicted 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 347 
 
 nothing but plagues, wars, cyclones and catastrophes 
 of all sorts. He was In his element now, and scented 
 from afar an odour of cholera which would re-estab- 
 lish his blemished reputation and punish the Re- 
 public. 
 
 " I hear," he said to my father, " that they are 
 going to give you a tin pan serenade to-night." 
 
 " A serenade," repeated Aunt Deen. " I should 
 like to see them! I'll empty a boiler of boiling wa- 
 ter on their heads, since they won't have boiled wa- 
 ter to drink." 
 
 " Very well," said my father. « I'll wait." 
 
 After dinner, mother, who was anxious, asked us 
 to recite prayers in common. I hesitated to join 
 in these invocations which I deemed puerile, and I 
 only did repeat them with my lips, without heart, 
 merely, I said to myself, to avoid sowing discord the 
 first day. As for grandfather, he had valiantly 
 mounted to his tower to direct his telescope upon I 
 know not what planet. 
 
 About nine o'clock we heard a formidable clamour, 
 but it was far away. For a time it neither drew 
 nearer nor became more distant. The crowd that 
 made it must be marking time. We distinctly dis- 
 tinguished a sort of refrain of two notes, the mean- 
 ing of which we could not grasp. Suddenly the bell 
 rang at the gate. 
 
 " There they are ! " exclaimed Aunt Deen. 
 
 But no ; under the gas j et only one shadow was 
 distinguishable, and that a small one. Aunt Deen 
 
348 THE HOUSE 
 
 and motKer were of opinion that the gate should be 
 opened only for a good reason. 
 
 " Probably some one is sick," observed my father ; 
 and he himself went to the gate. He recognised in 
 the nocturnal visitor Mimi Pachoux, who had fur- 
 tively hastened thither to tell us: 
 
 " It appears, Doctor, that there are other cases ; 
 and they are assaulting the mayor's office." 
 
 " Oh, truly? What is it that they are shouting? " 
 
 " Resign ! Resign ! " 
 
 " Very well, good friend. I am going." 
 
 When this dialogue was reported to Aunt Deen 
 she wanted to reward our labourer's devotion, but 
 father checked her. 
 
 " Oh, don't be in a hurry, aunt. He ran away 
 from me these last days. He simply anticipates the 
 popular movement, when he is perfectly sure of its 
 direction." 
 
 Then turning to me he asked, " Will you go with 
 me? It will be a change from your studies." 
 
 It was one of those fine moonless nights of July 
 when the stars seem to hang low from the dark dome 
 of heaven, like suspended lamps. We reached the 
 square of the City HaJl, which was black with people, 
 all the air resounding with the one cry, 
 
 " Resign ! Resign ! " 
 
 We were at the back of the crowd, which was stamp- 
 ing and vociferating before the fast-closed municipal 
 building. There were groups of citizens gathered 
 from the caf^s, into which the news had doubtless 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 349 
 
 spread, and there were also many family groups, with 
 children in their arms, the women more excited than 
 the men, some of them demanding that the mayor 
 should be ducked in the fountain. To say truth, 
 such an act would have required considerable good 
 will. To my mind, all those Chinese shadows 
 gesticulating in the uncertain light appeared su- 
 premely ridiculous. Absorbed in my own interior 
 life, I took not the slightest interest in their goings 
 on. 
 
 Suddenly a light shone forth from a room of the 
 City Hall which opened upon a balcony. Mayor 
 Baboulin had decided to reassure his constituency. 
 But it was in vain that he essayed to make himself 
 heard; epithets of all sorts were flying through the 
 air at him, prisoner, traitor, knave, and others less 
 elegant but even more sonorous. 
 
 Another man appeared beside him. My old friend 
 Deputy Martinod, trusting to his popularity and 
 his gifts of speech, came forward. But the hulla- 
 baloos continued, while vituperations even more fa- 
 miliar and off^ensive were showered upon him. In 
 the gaslight I recognised near me the inseparable 
 Gallus and Merinos conscientiously reviling their 
 old friend. 
 
 " You see," S£ud my father, making no attempt 
 to moderate his voice, " what to expect of the popu- 
 lace. Yesterday they were hurrahing for them; to- 
 day they insult them." 
 
 I confess that I was surprised to hear him express 
 
350 THE HOUSE 
 
 himself so freely, in that strong, ringing voice which 
 always so disturbed grandfather. Only a few hours 
 ago, as we were driving from the station, hadn't the 
 populace hooted at him, too? What if they should 
 begin again? We were not behind the shelter of 
 walls nor under the protection of the police. Just 
 at that moment one of the demonstrators turned, 
 crimson-faced and open-mouthed. A light was re- 
 flected full upon him; it was Tem Bossette, in 
 person, facing us, full and overflowing like a wine- 
 bottle, gesticulating even more vigorously than the 
 others. The moment he saw us he cried aloud: 
 
 " Long live Rambert ! " 
 
 All around him uprose a great tumult, and to my 
 stupefaction every one w£is crying, " Long live Ram- 
 bert ! " at the top of his lungs. Father touched me 
 on the shoulder, whispering, 
 
 " Let's get out of this : we've had enough ! " 
 
 A little more and our retreat would have been cut 
 off, and we should have been obliged to submit to 
 the unexpected ovation. Rapidly, before they could 
 get into line to accompany us, we gained a cross 
 street and hastened to the house, where the family 
 were awaiting us. The shadow at the window 
 told us of the disquietude which our absence had 
 caused. Father gaily related what had happened, 
 describing Tem's intervention. 
 
 " Good fellow ! " exclaimed Aunt Deen approv- 
 ingly. 
 
 To which father replied : 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 351 
 
 " Oh, he is a worse case than Mimi. The last few 
 days he hasn't even said good morning to me." 
 
 " What business is it of his ? " asked grandfather, 
 who was troubled about the epidemic. " He is in 
 no danger. He has never been a hard drinker." 
 
 " Hark ! " exclaimed mother — so quick to be fear- 
 ful for us. 
 
 The expected clamour was certainly approaching; 
 the sounds were growing more distinct ; in a moment 
 they would be intelligible. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " she added ; " what is going to 
 happen next ! " 
 
 Father laughingly reassured her: 
 
 " This time, Valentine, they are cheering. It's 
 more than I asked for. This afternoon I was only 
 fit for a ducking; this evening I am a saviour." 
 
 How little he cared for public favour! He wore 
 his battle smile, and I thought it very contemptuous. 
 In the mysticism in which I had taken refuge I held 
 myself aloof from all mankind ; but so long as I was 
 not obliged to associate with them I was quite willing 
 to grant them all the virtues, even that of consist- 
 ency. The crowd was already defiling before the 
 gate, singing, 
 
 It's Ramhert, Eambert, Eambert, 
 It's Bambert that we need! 
 
 Was there then only one Rambert? Grandfather, 
 for whom no one was calling, slipped away, I alone 
 observing his movement of retreat ; he was probably 
 
362 THE HOUSE 
 
 going back to his tower, returning quietly to his tele- 
 scope; the planet that he had been observing had 
 not yet sunk below the horizon. 
 
 I would fain have followed him, but father asked 
 me to look out. I looked, without interest, at the 
 confused mass whose surges were beating against the 
 gate and the wall of enclosure. It might have been 
 a long, enormous serpent, a long, enormous mole- 
 cricket whose body filled the breadth of the street, 
 and whose tail must have stretched far away, beyond 
 the turn of the road. 
 
 Suddenly the gate gave way, and the great beast, 
 like the gipsies long ago, invaded the short avenue 
 and the flower borders. In a moment it was assault- 
 ing the house. Aunt Deen, at my side, was torn be- 
 tween the joys of popularity and the instinctive de- 
 fence of our garden. 
 
 By way of checking the onrush of the multitude 
 father opened the window. He was saluted with a 
 tempest of applause, but easily commanded silence, 
 his voice ringing out like a deep-toned church beU : 
 
 " My friends," he said, " we shall do all we can 
 to check the progress of this scourge. Count upon 
 me, go back home, and above all, invoke the help of 
 God." 
 
 Invoke the help of God! But it was he whom 
 they looked upon as Providence! In all that mani- 
 festation my mother had been the only one who had 
 thought of praying. Aunt Deen was drinking in her 
 nephew's words, but their eloquence touched me not 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 353 
 
 at all. I could have wished him to utter a few noble 
 sentiments in praise of science, which alone was capa- 
 ble of dealing with epidemics and preventing con- 
 tagions ; but of science my father had said never a 
 word. At that moment I noticed how large a num- 
 ber of good women were in the crowd, some of them 
 brandishing their babies at arms' length, as if of- 
 fering them to my father. No doubt he had been 
 talking for the good women. 
 
 Nevertheless he had gained his point. Little by 
 little the crowd was calming down and gradually 
 dribbling away. They passed out of the gate, and 
 the lovely summer night, but now torn with shout- 
 ings, slowly gained its empire over the last lingerers 
 in the garden, over the roads and the fields, and gave 
 them back to silence. 
 
 Events began to hurry one upon another, the very 
 next morning. The municipal council, responsible 
 for the defective work upon the aqueducts, resigned 
 under general obloquy and contempt. 
 
 " There are your electors ! " said our father at 
 table. " First rejoicing in the triumph of the mayor 
 and council over conservatism, and now demanding 
 the disgrace of those very men and dragging them 
 in the mud with shame." 
 
 In a flash I saw myself again in the Cafe des Navi- 
 gateurs a few years before, drinking champagne with 
 Martinod and his heelers, in honour of grandfather's 
 candidacy, and far from revolting me, the memory 
 
364. THE HOUSE 
 
 touched my heart. Then, a child, I had quaffed a 
 sort of delicious recklessness, something like that love- 
 languor that Nazzarena, passing out of my life, had 
 left with me, listening to those fine theories which 
 were not very clear to me but were preparing me 
 for liberty nevertheless. 
 
 The excitement increased in the town with the in- 
 crease in the number of deaths, which, however, were 
 still few. The exact figures which my father gave 
 by no means corresponded with those that were 
 printed in the newspapers, or flew from lip to lip. 
 He had forbidden us to go into the town, grand- 
 father approving: 
 
 " One never knows how those things get caught — 
 a mere nothing is enough. It's quite enough to have 
 so many sick persons coming here." 
 
 I had found grandfather aging, when I came home. 
 He was nearly eighty, of course, but he had so 
 long kept his air of youth, the alert step due to his 
 long walks, and even his bright eyes, their sarcastic 
 gKnt only emphasised by the gathering wrinkles. 
 Now he was growing bent, and his gaze seemed 
 dimmed. Still he clung to life, and perhaps all the 
 more as he felt his strength failing. 
 
 The most absurd and contradictory rumours were 
 flying about everywhere, and political passions had 
 free course. An individual had been caught putting 
 poison into the river ; — a priest, said the anti-cleri- 
 cals; a free mason, said the others. A frightful 
 mania of suspicion began to run wild. An unlucky 
 
THE EPIDEMIC 355 
 
 fellow with a pimpled face just missed of being strung 
 up, on the pretext of spreading contagion, and was 
 only saved by my father's intervention: 
 
 " Pimples on the face are the only ones that mean 
 nothing!" he had shouted, just in time. 
 
 He brought home to us all these incidents and ru- 
 mours, for we went nowhere; he even carefully dis- 
 infected himself on returning from his rounds. 
 
 Next, the villages below the water-works thought 
 the contagion had reached them, and were struck 
 with panic, their inhabitants crowding to the town. 
 We could see them passing with their carts, their cat- 
 tle, their furniture, like fugitives before the face of 
 war. Brawls arose from attempts to keep them out. 
 
 Then suddenly the epidemic, which until then had 
 been under control, its ravages greatly exaggerated, 
 took on a disturbing character, whether in conse- 
 quence of the crowded state of the town and the lack 
 of hygiene, or because the air had really become 
 tainted. The general terror became itself a danger. 
 Pestilence and famine were said to be upon us. Abbe 
 Heurtevant, who, all devotion to the sufferers, yet 
 seemed to breathe In a sort of consolation from the 
 atmosphere of catastrophe, seeing in all this the ful- 
 filment of his prophecies, and who could not but 
 discern signs of divine intervention, was formally ac- 
 cused of sorcery, and was obliged to run to earth 
 in his own room for several days, lest evil should be- 
 fall him. Mile Tapinois had given the signal for 
 departure, abandoning her work-rooms, which mother 
 
356 THE HOUSE 
 
 took up without comment. The hotels were emptied, 
 and all the people who could fly from town fled. 
 
 The lack of organisation increased the evil. The 
 municipality had resigned and the prefect was tak- 
 ing the waters in Germany. The electors were 
 convoked on a ,call of urgency. Then came a 
 rush for father. Every day there was a crowd before 
 the gate crying, Long live Ra/mbert! or It's Rambert 
 we must have. Aunt Deen was never surfeited with 
 this refrain, which was music to her ears. Only he 
 — there was no one but Michel. 
 
 I did not see and I cannot describe the despairing 
 town, the shops closed for fear of pillage, the inhabi- 
 tants torn by party enmity, haunted by all sorts of 
 suspicion, clinging to every superstition, ravaged by 
 bitterness and poverty, and given over to terror. 
 But I did see with my own eyes, at our very feet, 
 there under our very windows, the town entreating one 
 man, submitting to him, grovelling before him, whom 
 formerly they would have none of. The multitude 
 dragged itself in the dust, moaned, uttered howls of 
 desire like an infuriated dog. And not comprehend- 
 ing its distress I despised it. 
 
 My father had lost his authority over me, not 
 from having abused it, notwithstanding that I had 
 imagined tyranny in some of his acts, but perhaps — 
 who can say ? — for not having exerted it, that even- 
 ing when he brought me back from the Cafe des Nav- 
 igateurs, that day when in the tower chamber I had 
 braved him in defence of grandfather. He had no 
 
THE EPIDEMIC S57 
 
 suspicion either of my first experience of love, which 
 had played havoc in my heart, nor of the intensity 
 of those aspirations after liberty which had been 
 slowly infiltrated into it by all those walks and con- 
 versations. 
 
 Yet he had felt my detachment from the house, 
 and had trusted to clemency to bring me back. And 
 that clemency had belittled him in my eyes. His 
 prestige had been made up of his never-failing vic- 
 tories, and had I not heard him in mother's room, ut- 
 tering the laments of one conquered? By his pain 
 I had measured my own importance. The greater 
 price he set upon the reconquest of myself, the 
 stronger I felt to resist him. Perhaps he would have 
 kept his empire over me had he not showed such an 
 excess of paternal solicitude. Would it be danger- 
 ous for a sovereign to take too much pains in train- 
 ing his heir and fitting him to succeed to the throne ? 
 Must one put more confidence in words and acts than 
 in the influence which one tries to exert over minds? 
 Each generation difi^ers from the former in the ex- 
 pression of its ideas if not in the ideas themselves. 
 It thinks to create all things anew: life will teach it 
 that nothing is created, and that everything goes on 
 by the same processes. 
 
 Now, in the time of danger, that authority from 
 which I had withdrawn myself imposed itself upon 
 every one else. My father had been in charge of 
 the medical service. Now, elected almost unani- 
 mously, he was entrusted with the town. 
 
n 
 
 THE ALPETTE 
 
 OuE father and mother held a council of war, in 
 which the resolution was taken that we should be 
 sent away. The family owned, on the uplands of one 
 of the high valleys, a chalet which we called the 
 Alpette, standing by itself in a clearing in the pines. 
 In favourable seasons we used to spend a month of 
 the long vacation there. A dilapidated stagecoach 
 used to climb to the nearest village in four or five 
 hours. It was not easy to get supplies up there, and 
 we should have to be content with frugal and modest 
 fare; but the air was redolent of balsam, and we 
 should be beyond all danger of contagion. 
 
 " The epidemic is spreading," father told us. 
 " You will all go to-morrow morning except your 
 mother, who will not leave me." 
 
 Perhaps he had resolved to remain alone, but had 
 encountered her refusal. 
 
 " That's an excellent idea," said grandfather ap- 
 provingly. " We are good for nothing here, but 
 rather, in the way." 
 
 " Well ! I for one shall not go," declared Aunt 
 Deen, shaking her head. " I am a part of the build- 
 
 ing." 
 
 358 
 
THE ALPETTE 359 
 
 Father urged that she had her brother to take care 
 of, but this argument was by no means favourably 
 received. 
 
 " He can take care of himself well enough. He is 
 perfectly well. And besides, Louise wUl look after 
 him." 
 
 Louise urged her desire to stay. We thought she 
 was joking, for she said it laughingly, but she firmly 
 insisted. Couldn't she be of service, visiting the sick, 
 nursing them even.'' Wasn't every willing person 
 needed.' Between her and Aunt Deen a debate arose, 
 the unselfishness of which was at the time unperceived 
 by me ; but Aunt Deen insisted so hard that she car- 
 ried her point. 
 
 Encouraged by this example, I signified to my par- 
 ents my fixed intention not to leave town, but to play 
 my part in it also. This was by way of affirming my 
 personahty — my personality of barely eighteen 
 years ! — much more than as a boast of courage. 
 The idea of death, either my own or that of the 
 others, had not occurred to me. I did not appre- 
 hend the slightest danger. No doubt father was the 
 most exposed, both by his profession and his func- 
 tions, but to me he seemed immortal. I was simply 
 thinking of gaining a little importance. 
 
 Father listened to me patiently, and then replied 
 that if I had begun to study medicine, as he had 
 hoped, he should not have hesitated to make use of 
 me, notwithstanding his affection and his fears; 
 it would have been a right which I might have 
 
360 THE HOUSE 
 
 claimed ; but that having taken another course, I had 
 no good reason for remaining in a vitiated atmos- 
 phere, where I could be of no use, at the risk of suc- 
 cumbing to the disease any day. He thanked me 
 for my offer, but could not accept it. The moun- 
 tain air would be good for my health, which would 
 improve up there: I was somewhat delicate, I should 
 return stronger. 
 
 The calm refusal simply exasperated me. I dis- 
 cerned in it a contempt that was not to be endured, 
 and I persisted in claiming the post as if my honour 
 was involved. 
 
 " I regret infinitely, father, my inability to yield 
 in this matter, but I judge that I ought to stay, and 
 I shall stay." 
 
 The words came grandly. He fixed me with his 
 piercing eyes, and did not even raise his voice : 
 
 " I rule in my house, before ruling in the town, my 
 boy. I give you this order: You will go to-morrow 
 with your grandfather, Louise and the two younger 
 children. I am In charge of the whole city: we shall 
 see whether my son will be the first to disobey." 
 
 He turned away. So peremptorily had he spoken 
 that a sense of the impossibility of resistance took 
 possession of me. He had been humouring me this 
 long time; he had thought from my reserve that I 
 was indifferent if not hostile, and he cherished the 
 hope of regaining my confidence. Now he sud- 
 denly abandoned all methods of conciliation and put 
 me back in the ranks like a mere soldier, not like a 
 
THE ALPETTE 361 
 
 future chief. Without caring the least in the world 
 about taking active service among the hospital staff, 
 I champed my bit with rage, as if I had been sub- 
 jected to the most cniel abuse. Grandfather, de- 
 lighted with this outcome, consoled me good-na- 
 turedly. 
 
 "Oho! what do you care? He has a craze for 
 giving orders. We shall be very well off up there." 
 
 Our preparations filled the afternoon. Grand- 
 father himself brought down from the tower his 
 barometer, violin, pipes and almanacs. The re- 
 peated journeys put him out of breath, but he would 
 stop for no one. The rest of the packing was of no 
 interest to him, but concerned Aunt Deen, to whom 
 he had long ago given over the care of his clothes and 
 linen. At nightfall Abbe Huertevant came for a 
 visit. Father was at the hospital, or the mayor's 
 office, and mother at the workrooms where bed cloth- 
 ing for the sick poor was being made. Grandfather, 
 with new found resolution, refused to have the door 
 opened, and inquired from the window whether our 
 friend had been disinfected. 
 
 Nothing would do but for the abb^ to pass through 
 the disinfecting room that had been set up in the 
 house, after which he was welcomed with gladness, 
 and grandfather even offered him his copy of the 
 prophecies of Michel Nostradamus. M. Huertevant 
 accepted the gift with small enthusiasm ; he was ac- 
 quainted with the Centuries and found them obscure 
 and contradictory. 
 
362 THE HOUSE 
 
 "Yes, you prefer Sister Rose-Colombe and the 
 Abbey of Orval. And what catastrophes have you 
 to report, Abbe? " 
 
 "In the first place, your labourer Tem Bossette 
 died this morning of the pestilence." 
 
 "Ah!" said grandfather, quickly adding, as if 
 finding an excuse for not grieving, " he was a drunk- 
 ard." 
 
 " Poor Tem ! " sighed Aunt Deen. " Had he con- 
 fessed.'' " 
 
 " He had no time — the complaint seized him like 
 a thunderclap." 
 
 "An alcoholic," observed grandfather. 
 
 My aunt went on questioning our guest about per- 
 sons of our acquaintance: 
 
 "How about Beatrix .J" And Mimi Pachoux? " 
 
 " Don't be uneasy about your Mimi, mademoiselle ; 
 he is helping to bury the dead, and is even superin- 
 tending the entire force of gravediggers. His zeal 
 is magnificent; he multiplies himself, he is at every 
 funeral. As for The Hanged, I think he is down 
 with the fever." 
 
 " I will go and see him," said Aunt Deen simply, 
 whereupon her brother looked at her with surprise, 
 and some disapprobation. 
 
 But the abbe, with incomparable ease, had already 
 passed from special misfortunes to general calami- 
 ties. The contagion would be sure to spread, it 
 would not be checked until it had reached Paris. It 
 would decimate the capital, that sink of all iniqui- 
 
THE ALPETTE 363 
 
 ties, and would constrain politicians to reflect. It 
 would be as good as a war, in the matter of moral 
 renovation. And the lilies would bloom again. 
 
 " They will bloom again," Aunt Deen did not fail 
 to repeat gravely. 
 
 The description of these approaching misfortunes 
 aflFected grandfather, who changed the subject of 
 conversation. 
 
 " I say. Abbe, if you will come to the Alpette to 
 see us, we will give you some Satan bolets, and even 
 if you don't bring too much bad news, some negro 
 head bolets, which are at least eatable and of a savoury 
 flavour. Or rather, no ! don't put yourself out to 
 come. There is no disinfecting apparatus up there, 
 and you would be capable of contaminating us all." 
 
 The next morning a two-horse brake, ordered es- 
 pecially for us, came to take us and our parcels. 
 Father superintended the embarkation, and hastened 
 it, for he was being called upon from all quarters 
 at once. At the house, whenever any difficulty arose 
 he had always been immediately sought for, all call- 
 ing in one voice. Monsieur Michel! Where is Mon- 
 sieur Michel! In these days, all through the city, 
 the rallying cry was. Monsieur Rambert! or more 
 briefly, the doctor, or th£ mayor. 
 
 " Oho ! " said grandfather lightly, " he has enough 
 to give orders to now." 
 
 Grandfather climbed into the vehicle first, with his 
 instruments, which he would not let go, though the 
 
364 THE HOUSE 
 
 violin case was much in the way. Like little Jamie, 
 he had all the gaiety of a school boy on vacation. 
 Never had he seemed so to feel the attractions of 
 the Alpette. Louise, on the contrary, and Nicola, 
 imitating her sister, whom she admired, manifested 
 an emotion which for my part I deemed excessive. 
 They clung to our parents with tears, as if it were 
 a case of prolonged absence. 
 
 " Come, children," said father, " make haste and 
 have no fears." 
 
 My own adieus to him were of marked coldness, 
 because of the scene of the previous day. He had 
 constrained me to obedience, and had wounded my 
 pride ; I could not forget it so soon ; dignity obliged 
 me to assume an offended air. 
 
 The smallest details of that departure, upon which 
 my memory has dwelt so much, vainly seeking some- 
 thing to mitigate its bitterness, stand out before me 
 with a distinctness which time has never blurred. 
 Every one was more or less impatient, the horses be- 
 cause of the flies that tormented them, the coachman 
 out of compassion for his cattle, grandfather and 
 Jamie in their haste to enjoy the pleasures of the 
 journey, Louise and Nicola in their sadness over 
 going away, Aunt Deen because she dreaded the tu- 
 mult of her feelings, and I, to get rid of the uneasiness 
 that was overcoming me. Mother was trying to 
 keep calm. Father alone did so, naturally. When 
 my turn came to get in, last of all, he seemed to 
 hesitate for a brief moment as if he would have de- 
 
THE ALPETTE 365 
 
 tained me, spoken to me. I do not precisely know 
 what it was that showed me this, but I am sure of it. 
 And once in my seat I felt an unreasoning desire to 
 get out again. Was it an instinctive longing for 
 reconciliation.'' How I long to feel sure that it was ! 
 But the feeling was too vague for me to be sure of 
 it now. Taking my place on the same seat with 
 grandfather, I gave expression to my inward feeling 
 by an act of ill humour, seizing hold of the violin 
 ease, which chafed my knees, and laying it roughly in 
 the bottom of the carriage. 
 
 " Be careful ! It's delicate," observed grand- 
 father protestingly. 
 
 I can still see the vibrating light in the air, and 
 the shining of the road in the sunlight. 
 
 "All right?" asked the coachman, clambering to 
 his seat. 
 
 " Forward ! " ordered father. 
 
 And mother added the prayer that she always ut- 
 tered at each parting. 
 
 "God be with you!" 
 
 Our heavy vehicle was already in motion, and these 
 were the last words that we heard. Forward, and 
 God be with you; they mingle, become one, always 
 accompany one another in my memory, and when- 
 ever to this day I set out upon a journey, it seems 
 to me that I hear them. 
 
 At the turn of the road, down below the entrance 
 gate, I saw the three figures stjinding out in the 
 glaring day, Aunt Deen somewhat massive; my 
 
366 THE HOUSE 
 
 mother's, more delicate, and the tall, proud figure of 
 my father, lifting up his head. Why did I not call 
 put? The one word, " Father! " would have pleased 
 him, and he would have understood. His figure re- 
 vealed such force, so rich a vitality, so dominant an 
 authority, that it was of course of no use to humili- 
 ate oneself to give him satisfaction. I should always 
 have time enough if I wanted to do so, — later, later. 
 Grandfather was fumbling about my legs to rescue 
 his violin case and I had to help him. We passed 
 under the chestnut tree that had overshadowed — 
 just one moment — the departing Nazzarena, Naz- 
 zarena laughing and showing her teeth. And the 
 house was lost behind us. 
 
 I was not slow to forget this uncomfortable part- 
 ing in the enchantment of my new life in the chalet 
 of the Alpette. For the first time I was absolute 
 master of my days. Grandfather exercised not the 
 slightest oversight. He liked to sit for hours to- 
 gether on a bench on the pleasantest side of the 
 house, warming himself in the sun and smoking his 
 pipe. He took no walks except in the immediate 
 neighbourhood, going with difficulty even to the pine 
 woods, for his legs had become weak and could not 
 carry him far. Once in the woods, he would devote 
 himself to his favourite pursuit, which had not 
 changed, the hunt after mushrooms. He especially 
 pursued and not without success the negro head 
 bolet, which grows well in the shadow of the pines. 
 
THE ALPETTE 367 
 
 Jamie and his inseparable Nicola used to go with 
 him, and stoop for him to retrieve the game which 
 he pointed out to them. He preferred their child- 
 hood to my youth, and I was not jealous of them. 
 He never tried to establish with them the intimacy 
 that had formerly existed between him and me. He 
 shrank from all fatigue, from any conversation 
 which would have led to discussions, explanations, 
 was contented with trifling facts not open to debate. 
 For my part, I preferred my solitude. 
 
 Whether from sisterly affection or because she had 
 received instructions to this effect, Louise busied her- 
 self with us even to obsession ; she would have cut 
 herself in two to be at the same time with me and 
 with the two little ones. When she had become con- 
 vinced of the peaceful, commonplace character of 
 grandfather's conversation, she turned all the more 
 to me, hoping to be my confidant, and to gain a little 
 influence over me. She was only two years my 
 senior, and her conduct filled me with wonder, for 
 nothing down in the town had given any indication 
 that altitude would so totally change her. Pretty, 
 lively, care-free, I had deemed her rather volatile and 
 even a bit capricious — and had been not the less 
 pleased with her for that. At times she would rush 
 at her piano with intense zeal, and again she would 
 not touch it for weeks. She filled the house with her 
 laughter, her charming spirits, her quick movements. 
 " She won't be one to interfere with me," I had 
 thought in the carriage. And now, behold her sud- 
 
368 THE HOUSE 
 
 denly changed into something like the head of a com- 
 munity or a family boarding house, thoughtful and 
 kindly, but exacting, even arbitrary. One must be 
 punctual at meals, explain his absences, guard his 
 words before the children, not turn either principles 
 or people into ridicule. Had her responsibilities 
 changed her and turned her head? She assumed the 
 place of our parents in matters of conscience, but 
 I gave her to understand that boys didn't obey girls, 
 and that any directions she might have received did 
 not concern me. She insisted, and almost from^ the 
 outset we were in a state of tension which was almost 
 conflict. 
 
 It was the Sunday after our arrival. The vil- 
 lage was two kilometres distant, and only one mass — 
 high mass — was celebrated. Louise informed us of 
 the fact, and at what she judged the proper mo- 
 ment she called to us to set out. Grandfather, who 
 never went to church, raised a disinterested objec- 
 tion. 
 
 " Public places are the most unhealthy. Beware 
 of the epidemic." 
 
 " There has not been a single case of typhus in 
 the whole valley," said Louise triumphantly. 
 
 " Very well," said grandfather, jBlling his morning 
 pipe. 
 
 I then informed my sister that I had planned to 
 take a walk and regretted that I could not escort her. 
 She looked at me in astonishment, such astonishment 
 that I can still see the surprise in her limpid eyes. 
 
THE ALPETTE 369 
 
 " What, you are not going to mass, Francis? 
 There is only one." 
 
 " No," I replied with my most assured manner. 
 
 " It isn't possible ! " 
 
 Her eyes, those limpid eyes, at once filled with 
 tears, and I remembered the first mass that I had 
 missed. Pride forbade me to yield, pride and also 
 that new, vague belief which my imagination had 
 built up. Louise pushed Nicola and Jamie before 
 her, and turned to me, her book of hours in her hand, 
 stiU hoping to move me. 
 
 " I beg you, come with us." 
 
 If she had added, " to please me," perhaps I would 
 have yielded, so alarmed did she appear. She no 
 doubt would have deemed that plea unworthy of its 
 purpose. This time I refused still more emphatic- 
 ally. 
 
 " I shall be obliged to write to mamma," she urged 
 as a last argument. 
 
 " As you please." 
 
 She did not, however, carry out her threat. Her 
 sense of delicacy warned her not to add to our par- 
 ents' anxieties in the midst of their battle with the 
 pestilence. On the contrary, she doubled her atten- 
 tion to me, trying to win me to her, to gain my 
 friendship, my confidence. With innate art she be- 
 came an improvised mother of the family, ever try- 
 ing to bring us together, to group us, warring against 
 the isolation in which I delighted. 
 
 When a letter came she would call us together and 
 
370 THE HOUSE 
 
 read it aloud to us. We received letters from home 
 very regularly, and they forwarded Melanie's to us 
 from the hospital in London, where she was caring 
 for the sick; Bernard's from his expedition in Ton- 
 kin; Stephen's, who was completing his theological 
 studies in Rome. Through her the absent ones vis- 
 ited us, and if it had depended only upon her we 
 should have carried on at the Alpette the same life 
 as at home. It was precisely that which revolted 
 me, and I rose in rebellion against the twenty-year- 
 old will which, with unlooked for tenacity, went 
 counter to mine. 
 
 To place myself beyond her influence I formed the 
 habit of leaving our chalet with a book the first thing 
 in the morning, returning only for meals. Uneasy 
 about me, she would remain upon the doorstep until 
 I had disappeared, and very often, at my return, I 
 would find her in the same place, as if she had never 
 lost sight of me. Her interest extended even to my 
 reading. The library at the Alpette contained only 
 a few books, some odd volumes of BufFon and 
 Lacepede, a " Dictionary of Conversation " in fifty 
 volumes, a copy of " Jocelyn," and a few less impor- 
 tant works. Even the Dictionary did not terrify me 
 and I would resolutely carry with me the volumes 
 containing biographical notices, or systems of philo- 
 sophy. I found myself at ease in the boldest or the 
 most obscure of their conceptions. I understood 
 them before I had completed their demonstration, 
 whether they put the universe in subjection to the 
 
THE ALPETTE 371 
 
 ego, or whether they put man in subjection to the 
 universe left to itself. Still, I was inclined to believe 
 that everything depended upon our intelligence, and 
 that it alone, by its sole power breathed existence 
 into things, the laws of which were fixed by it. I 
 have never since been able to regain such facility 
 in moving in the abstract, nor such pleasure and 
 pride. 
 
 When wearied by these adventures in metaphysics, 
 I would refresh myself with the poetry of " Jocelyn." 
 It harmonised so perfectly with the nature that sur- 
 rounded me that it seemed to become its natural ex- 
 pression and I ceased to think of distinguishing be- 
 tween them. How many times, under the pines, 
 have I repeated lines which from that time have been 
 fixed in my memory : 
 
 I went from tree to tree and loved them all; 
 
 I took from them a sense of tears and wept; 
 
 Believing thus, so strong the deep heart's call. 
 
 That answering thrills through all their rough bark swept. 
 
 So greatly did I long to feel pervading everything 
 around me, in the soul of the trees or the spirit of 
 the earth, the love which I refused to receive from the 
 family. When I reached the top of some hill, it 
 was in the apostrophe 
 
 Oh, mountain tops, pure air and floods of light! 
 
 that my rapture found expression. The serenity of 
 the night spoke to me of peace, love, eternity. I 
 dreamed of Laurence, and had no difficulty in pic- 
 
372 THE HOUSE 
 
 turing him to myself, such a model of precision did 
 his portrait seem to me: 
 
 Never the hand of Grod on fifteen years 
 Had marked a soul more lovely or more hmnan. 
 
 What more was wanting to feed a love which, hav- 
 ing no object, created its image for itself? 
 
 Another book, however, was destined to enter still 
 more deeply into my sensibility, corresponding as it 
 did with that condition of independence and enfran- 
 chisement to which I deemed myself to have attained. 
 Into the pile of almanacs brought thither by grand- 
 father had slipped that copy of the " Confessions " 
 which had puzzled me as a child, and which I had 
 taken for a manual of piety. The innocent Limp- 
 ing Messenger of Berne and Vevey came leading by 
 the hand that Jean-Jacques whom, long before I 
 knew him, I had heard spoken of as if he were still 
 living and we might meet him anywhere in our walks. 
 I had read in school only short fragments of his writ- 
 ings in which I had found nothing personal. I fell 
 upon the narrative of that troubled life, which at 
 first disgusted me. The theft of the ribbon in the 
 house of Mme de Vercellis and the cowardly accusa- 
 tion that followed, certain physiological details 
 which I could ill understand, the title of maman be- 
 stowed upon Mme de Warens, produced upon me the 
 effect of immodest confidences, and all alone as I was 
 in the forest, or lying in the grass on the top of the 
 mountain, I felt myself blushing to the ears. My 
 
THE ALPETTE 373 
 
 deepest nature resisted, but by an insensible decline 
 I came even to admire the man who could humiliate 
 himself by such avowals ; not perceiving their pride 
 I felt giddied by their truth. 
 
 After that the volume never left me. Louise, dis- 
 turbed by this preoccupation, tried to wield some cen- 
 sorship. One evening as I came in from gazing at 
 the stars — those in the South, which I most easily 
 recognised — I found her under the lamp looking into 
 the " Confessions." She did not see me and I 
 watched her; she suddenly closed the book, and per- 
 ceiving me, her indignation burst forth: 
 
 " You have no right to read this book." 
 
 " I read what I please." 
 
 She appealed to grandfather, who declined all re- 
 sponsibility. 
 
 " Oh, every one is free. And at least Jean- 
 Jacques is sincere." 
 
 The love passages excited me, and what rendered 
 them more precious and more seductive to me was 
 the writer's lovely way of praising at once the peace 
 of the country and the happiness of bucolic life. In 
 the peace that environed me I felt more plainly the 
 movements of my own heart. I was at the feet of 
 Mme Basile withoiit daring so much as to touch her 
 dress. A slight movement of her finger, — hand 
 lightly pressed agamst my lips, mere the only favours 
 I ever received from her, amd the memory of these 
 slight favours transports me as I think of them. I 
 would try to represent to myself the gentle air of 
 
374 THE HOUSE 
 
 those fair women whom no heart could resist, and — 
 shall I be believed? — I found a personal application 
 in a lament which touched my hardly completed and 
 already disquieted eighteen years. Tormented with, 
 the desire to love without ever finding its satisfaction, 
 I saw myself drawing nigh to the gates of old age and 
 dying without having lived. When I climbed high 
 enough to see the lake, far away at the foot of the 
 hills, I would repeat the simple aspiration. All I de- 
 sire is a sure friend, a loving wife, a cow and a little 
 boat, and my growing exaltation of sentiment seemed 
 endowed with innocence. I could have wept for love 
 while eating strawberries smothered in sweet cream. 
 Thus the period through which I was passing was 
 very closely linked with that of my convalescence, 
 of which it became in a sort the completion. Alone 
 by myself I resumed the walks which a few years be- 
 fore I had taken with grandfather. His friend Jean- 
 Jacques was with me in his stead. These were not 
 the same places, but in natural aspects there was 
 small difference between them. They had the same 
 glamour of wildness, that flutter of vegetation 
 stirred by the slightest breath, the sparkle of waters ; 
 and the greater altitude even added a more exhila- 
 rating air, farther distances, less accessible to the 
 works of man, a new exaltation. In the mountains 
 the holdings are without walls or gates. No en- 
 closure mars the beauty of the land, and individual 
 ownership is not apparent, — that ownership which, 
 as I knew from grandfather's teachings, corrupts the 
 
THE ALPETTE 375 
 
 heart of man and fills it with greed, jealousy and 
 cupidity. On the mountains field and forest belong 
 to every one and to no one, like the sun and the 
 air, like health. The upper pastures, whither the 
 shepherd who in one sentence had revealed longing 
 to me, was leading his sheep, — now I was treading 
 their short grass. Mountain climbing thrilled me 
 with an ardour for conquest, and with each height 
 gained I hoped to meet her whom I was awaiting but 
 who continually evaded me. She was not Nazza- 
 rena, whom I had loved and whom now my dreams 
 disdained; who seemed to me too young, too simple. 
 I thought rather of the unknown lady of the pavilion, 
 or still more of her who had appeared before me on 
 the road, all in white with a hat trimmed with cher- 
 ries, and a flower-like face, she whose parasol made 
 an aureola about her, and whom I had called Helen 
 since I knew that her beauty was like that of the im- 
 mortal goddesses. 
 
 I was alone, deliciously alone, and In love,- with no 
 beloved one. I was perfectly happy, and never real- 
 ised that I was torturing my sister Louise, whose 
 affection I misunderstood. I was free. 
 
 By reason of the difficulty of procuring provisions 
 our table was the most frugal in the world. We lived 
 upon eggs, potatoes, cheese, and on Sundays had 
 the luxury of a fowl. Grandfather was never tired 
 of extolling the excellencies of this fare, and the bene- 
 fits of pastoral life. It was easy for me to persuade 
 
376 THE HOUSE 
 
 myself of the excellence of our mode of living. I took 
 less and less interest in the news from town that 
 reached us by the diligence. Once or twice, to give 
 us fuller intelligence, they sent up the farmer him- 
 self, so that in our hermitage we knew the number 
 of deaths and the ravages of the pestilence. The 
 Hanged, who was dead, had made a most edifying end, 
 Aunt Deen being with him to the last. GaUus and 
 Merinos were safe and sound. 
 
 " They are always in luck," observed grandfather. 
 
 The farmer shook his head as if to say that the 
 last word hadn't been said yet, and that the ravages 
 of the epidemic were not over. Of Martinod he 
 knew nothing; he was still in hiding. Our friend 
 Abbe Heurtevant had resisted but he was xindermined ; 
 however he still had life enough to predict catastro- 
 phes. 
 
 " May we go back ? " Louise would ask each time. 
 This astonished grandfather and me, for we were 
 in no hurry. 
 
 " Not yet. Miss ; Master Michael has said like 
 this, that the moment hasn't come yet." 
 
 A lazaretto had been set up for doubtful cases, 
 the two hospitals were crowded, those who went in or 
 out of the city were examined. A series of edicts 
 had been issued by the mayor, ordering the most mi- 
 nute precautions. 
 
 " It's awful," concluded the farmer, who was giv- 
 ing these details. 
 
 Grandfather declared that we were perfectly com- 
 
THE ALPETTE 377 
 
 fortable at the Alpette, but Louise was chafing with 
 impatience. 
 
 Little by little the days grew shorter. After the 
 month of August, which was very warm, September 
 came, with fresher breezes, and September passed. 
 The oals and birches in the forest were changing 
 colour among the changeless pines, the oaks turning 
 red and the birches golden. The dried tufts of 
 bushes on the rocks took on a scarlet tint. I was 
 sometimes overtaken by the darkness which rose rap- 
 idly from the hollow of the valley, and losing my 
 way was forced to seek the aid of a shepherd in some 
 hamlet whose twinkling lights shone out and guided 
 me. 
 
 At last we were informed that the pestilence was 
 abating, and we might soon leave the Alpette. I 
 heard the news without pleasure, intoxicated with 
 liberty as I had become during my long period of idle- 
 ness. Still, we were to remain a few days longer. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE END OF A KEIGN 
 
 All night a high wind had been blowing, but by 
 morning it had fallen. October was coming in badly. 
 After breakfast I went out to see what damage the 
 storm had wrought. Autumn had come suddenly. 
 In the woods the oak leaves and beech leaves, leaves 
 red and golden, torn from the trees where they had 
 been glowing like flowers, rustled under my tread, and 
 as in old times when I was little and used to steal out 
 to gather forbidden nuts and crack them afterwards 
 on the fire dogs, I let my feet drag, delighting in their 
 crisp and plaintive chime. 
 
 Returning at nightfall I saw a cart standing 
 before the door of the chalet. The headlight was not 
 lighted and it was growing dark, so that I did not 
 perceive till I was close by that it was our farmer's 
 cart. The horse had not been taken out, but no one 
 was watching it, though some one had taken the pre- 
 caution to put a blanket over its back. 
 
 " Well, Stephen," said I, entering the kitchen where 
 the farmer was warming himself, for it was already 
 cold on the mountains, "what brings you here?" 
 
 We always called him by his first name, as is the 
 
 custom in our country, although he was already old. 
 
 378 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 3T9 
 
 His hands were outstretched toward the stove, but 
 he turned his wrinkled, shaven face toward me, the 
 lamp, that moment lighted, revealing it clearly to me. 
 
 His light eyes, faded through long service in all 
 weathers, seemed not to see me clearly. 
 
 "Ah, Master Francis," he murmured low, as he 
 rose. 
 
 I can not tell why, but the meaningless exclama- 
 tion gave me a painful impression. 
 
 " You haven't come for us ? " I asked. 
 
 He was about to reply when we were joined by my 
 sister Louise, who had been told of his arrival. She 
 greeted him in a friendly way and asked what news 
 he brought from town. He seemed in no haste to 
 reply. 
 
 " The news is," he said at last, " that Madame 
 wants you." 
 
 " Madame ? " asked Louise. 
 
 "Very well," I observed, "and how soon.''" 
 
 " To be sure it is too late for you to go down to- 
 night. The beast is tired and it is already dark. 
 To-morrow morning, very early." 
 
 Why such haste.? We should hardly have time for 
 our packing. I was about to protest, but the farmer 
 slipped away — he must put out the horse, and get 
 the cart under cover. During his absence I pro- 
 tested against so hurried a departure. In fact the 
 prospect of quitting this place filled me with sad- 
 ness, and I again lived through the sense of desolation 
 which had come over me in the wood, strewn with the 
 
380 THE HOUSE 
 
 dead leaves. Louise paid no attention and I saw 
 that she was crying. Was she so sorry to go? 
 
 " I am afraid," she said to me. 
 
 Afraid of what.'' Grandfather, being informed of 
 our recall, showed as little enthusiasm as I. 
 
 "We weren't so badly off here," he said. "We 
 could do as we chose." 
 
 As if he hadn't always done as he chose! But 
 what was Louise afraid of? By degrees she told us. 
 For the farmer to be sent for us, there must be some 
 one sick at our house, some one gravely iU. He had 
 said " Madame has sent for you." Then it wasn't 
 mamma, it could be no one but father. This was 
 what she conjectured, as she confessed to us. 
 
 We tried to smile at her fears, comparing her to 
 Abbe Heurtevant who carried thunder about with him 
 and set it off at the least provocation ; but by degrees 
 her fear became ours. We waited feverishly for the 
 return of the farmer whom we at once questioned. 
 It was Louise who spoke. 
 
 "Father is sick, isn't he, Stephen?" 
 
 "Ah, Miss, it's a great misfortune." 
 
 " Has he taken the disease? " 
 
 " It isn't the disease that he has taken ; it's a chill 
 and fever." 
 
 Poor Louise burst into tears, calling upon our 
 father as if he could hear her. We had to comfort 
 her, not without blaming her for giving way, the 
 farmer himself joining in. 
 
 "The young lady is mistaken. Master Michael 
 
THE END or A REIGN 381 
 
 is strong. There's many a one has had chills and 
 fever who is fat and healthy to-day." 
 
 The thought never occurred to me that there could 
 be any real danger. My self absorption prevented 
 my thinking so. What an absurd presentiment that 
 poor Louise was torturing herself with ! I could see 
 my father there, before the entrance, just as the Car- 
 riage started. His panama, slightly tilted, cast 
 a shadow over half his face. The other, in full sun- 
 light, was radiant with life. He was giving brief 
 orders and hastening us into the vehicle because he 
 was waited for at the mayor's office. How well he 
 could command, and how every one hastened to obey 
 him ! I was the only one who thought of withdraw- 
 ing myself from his power, his ascendency. He held 
 himself upright like an oak in the forest, one of those 
 tall fine oaks that never shed their leaves till the new 
 ones come, that the tempest can never shake, that 
 seem to stand all the straighter and grow tougher 
 by resistance. I could hear his voice ringing 
 out, his voice saying Forward! as in battle. I 
 could not admit that that strength could be over- 
 come. I had counted upon that strength. I must 
 needs count upon it, because later, when I judged 
 best, and had achieved my liberty I wanted to go 
 back, of my own free will, and show my father a lit- 
 tle love. 
 
 Yet I recalled to mind the day when I had heard 
 him utter in mother's room a lament over me: 
 " That child is no longer ours. . . ." 
 
382 THE HOUSE 
 
 But I would not dwell on that. No, no, I must 
 exaggerate nothing. Mother had recalled us be- 
 cause the abating epidemic no longer threatened dan- 
 ger, and because father, being ill, would be glad to 
 see us; she had sent for us for these reasons and 
 for none other. . . . 
 
 We went down early next morning, Louise and 
 I in the farmer's cart, grandfather and the children 
 a little later by the diligence which after all was 
 more comfortable. I turned around many times to 
 imprint upon my memory the picture of that valley, 
 where in solitude I had met so many emotions cre- 
 ated by myself, as it were a sort of happiness in 
 which the others had no part. Seated beside me 
 Louise never spoke except to lean toward our old 
 Stephen and ask him gently, 
 
 " Couldn't you go a little faster? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss, we'll try. BIquette is a little like 
 me, she's not very young." 
 
 He let his whip play around the mare's flanks, with- 
 out actually touching her. As we drew nearer to 
 the town my sister's anxiety increased, and at last 
 affected me. She repeated her contagious " I'm 
 afraid," and only the fine October sunshine, warming 
 us on our seat, helped me to repel so absurd a pre- 
 sentiment. 
 
 We reached the gate at last. No one was wait- 
 ing for us. How many times had I found father 
 at that place, gazing down the road, and as soon as 
 he saw us hailing us with word and gesture, with all 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 383 
 
 the paternal gladness of his heart! I looked up at 
 the window. The usual shadow was not there, be- 
 hind the curtain, and for the first time I knew that 
 sorrow threatened us all. 
 
 Mother, as soon as she was informed of our arrival, 
 came down to meet us. Louise threw herself into 
 her arms without a word. By a natural intuition 
 those kindred souls understood one another. I re- 
 mained apart, determined not to understand, refus- 
 ing to admit even the possibility of a calamity which 
 would leave me no time to play, at my own conven- 
 ience, the drama of the return of the prodigal son. 
 Mother came to me: 
 
 " He talks of you most of all," she said. " In his 
 delirium he was calling for you." 
 
 I was thunderstruck at this pre-eminence. Why 
 did he talk most of me? Why was I his chief pre- 
 occupation, and — my mind leaping forward, even 
 while awestricken at the sacrilegious thought, — per- 
 haps his last? 
 
 " Mamma," I cried, " it isn't possible ! " 
 
 But I at once regretted the involuntary exclama- 
 tion. My mother was the living proof that there 
 was no danger, at least not yet. Of course I re- 
 marked the circles round her eyes and her white 
 cheeks, the tokens of nights of watching. But though 
 weariness was evident in her every feature, it was as 
 if it did not exist: one felt a higher will dominating 
 it, or utilising it so long as might be necessary. And 
 by a strange phenomenon, there was now in her man- 
 
384 THE HOUSE 
 
 ner of speaking, and of treating us, something — I 
 could not say what, but I knew it was there — some- 
 thing of my father's authority. Visibly, without 
 knowing it, she was replacing him. But if there had 
 been any danger she would have shown her woman's 
 weakness, she who was so quick to be anxious, and 
 often about nothing at aU, she so prompt to hear the 
 approaching thunderstorm and light the blessed can- 
 dle for our safety ! I did not even see the holy hght 
 that always when night came down kept watch in 
 her eyes like the little altar lamp in the sanctuary. 
 No, no, if there had been any danger she would have 
 asked for our help, and I would have sustained her 
 with my youthful strength. 
 
 " Is what possible.'' " she replied to my question — 
 thus completely reassuring me. She made no other 
 reply, as if she hadn't quite heard, but quite simply, 
 in a gentle voice which endeavoured not to give pain, 
 she went on to tell us what had taken place in our 
 long absence. 
 
 " He is resting just now. Your Aimt Deen is with 
 him. She has holped me much in nursing him. I'll 
 take you to his room presently. You can not imag- 
 ine the effort which these last months have required 
 of him. That is the cause of his illness, after he had 
 overcome the pestilence, when his task was finished. 
 Until then, I had never been able to get him to spare 
 himself. Day and night he would be sent for, ap-, 
 pealed to, as if there were no one but he. The whole 
 town waited on his orders, begged for his help. His 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 385 
 
 commands were the only ones that inspired confidence, 
 but the demands were more than human strength 
 could endure, and he did in fact go beyond human 
 strength. They never gave him a moment's respite 
 — they thought him stronger than the stones that 
 bear up the house, but even stones will break under 
 too heavy a burden. One evening, just six days ago, 
 he came home with a heavy chill. And almost im- 
 mediately fever appeared. Oh, if he had not so over- 
 taxed himself ! " 
 
 She checked herself without completing her 
 thought, — or did she not foUow it out when she 
 added after a moment's reflection, 
 
 " I have notified Stephen, in Rome. Last even- 
 ing he telegraphed me that he was setting out. I am 
 glad that his Superior has permitted him to leave — 
 it is a very long journey: we must give him almost 
 twenty-four hours. I write every day to Bernard 
 who is so far away. And Melanie is praying for 
 us." 
 
 Thus she was gathering the family around its head. 
 I asked, 
 
 " Why does not Melanie come ? " 
 
 " The Sisters of Charity never go back to their 
 homes." 
 
 " They nurse strangers and may not nurse their 
 father!" 
 
 " It is the rule, Francis." 
 
 Since it was the rule she had no recriminations to 
 make ; she bowed to it, accepted it, while I, — as soon 
 
386 THE HOUSE 
 
 as it became the rule, my first impulse was to rebel. 
 Timorous as she was when he was there, now with un- 
 faltering presence of mind she was preparing all 
 that would be needed in case of misfortune, without 
 ever ceasing to bend aU her energies to ward it off. 
 I felt shame for not having shared her anxieties and 
 for having sought to separate myself from the com- 
 munity of sorrow. 
 
 " The fever has diminished," she went on, going 
 over all the encouraging symptoms for our sakes 
 and her own. " The first days he was delirious much 
 of the time. He has been more calm since yester- 
 day. He himself keeps track of the progress of his 
 disease. I see, but he says nothing about it. This 
 morning he asked for a priest. Abbe Heurtevant, 
 whom he cured, came." 
 
 He himself keeps track of the progress of his dis- 
 ease, and he asked for a priest; the poor woman did 
 not connect the two, so natural did it seem to her to 
 ask the help of God. But I — how could I not con- 
 nect then*? And for the third time I distinctly felt 
 the danger. 
 
 We heard Aunt Deen's step at the head of the 
 stairs ; it was growing heavy. She called Valentine! 
 in a subdued voice and we aU hastened to the stair- 
 case. 
 
 " Oh, he is doing well," she explained, " but he is 
 awake, and he always asks for you if you are not 
 there." 
 
 " You may go with me," mother said to Louise, 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 387 
 
 then turning to me she added that she would call me 
 next; it wasn't well for too many to enter the room 
 at once, lest our presence should agitate the suf- 
 ferer. 
 
 As soon as we were alone Aunt Deen, who must 
 greatly have held herself in during her hours of 
 watching, exploded: 
 
 " Ah, my boy, if you knew ! ' They ' have killed 
 him — killed him without mercy! The whole town 
 was infected and had no hope except in him. I have 
 seen it, I tell you, those people with their dirty pus- 
 tules all over their bodies. They would be crying like 
 lost souls, and when your father entered the hospital 
 they would be silent because he had ordered it, but 
 they would hold out their arms to him. How many he 
 has cured! It's he who saved them all, he and no 
 one else. And the fountains closed, and the water 
 analysed, and the clothing of the dead burned, and 
 the lazaretto set up, aU sorts of hygienic measures. 
 Indeed, the very best there are. You should have 
 seen how he commanded everything! Monsieur 
 Mayor, it's impossible ! ' It must be done by to- 
 morrow.' But for him there wouldn't be a person 
 in the streets to-day. And now, now, it's as much 
 as ever if any one comes to ask how he is ! The ru- 
 mour has spread that he has caught the typhus, — 
 the last one. They are afraid and they abandon 
 him — the wretches ! " 
 
 Thus she pictured the general cowardice and in- 
 gratitude. My father stood out above this disor^ 
 
388 THE HOUSE 
 
 derly crowd. But Aunt Deen had begun on another 
 subject. 
 
 " Your mother is admirable. She has not gone to 
 bed once since his illness. And she keeps calm. You 
 have seen how calm she is. For my part I can't un- 
 derstand her." 
 
 As she had just left the room above I tried to get 
 at the truth of the case. 
 
 "Well, Aunt, is. he—" 
 
 But I could not go on, and she caught up my in- 
 quiry, the impiety of which had burned my lips, as 
 if I had spoken against the Holy Ark. 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! God will protect us ! What 
 would become of us, my poor child, what would be- 
 come of us ! A man such as there are not two of in 
 the world ! " 
 
 Just then Louise, coming softly down, joined us, 
 all in tears. Father was expecting me. 
 
 At the door of his room I paused, heavy of heart. 
 By that oppression I saw clearly that he was the 
 essential actor in the inner drama of my childhood 
 and youth, my short but already so important life. 
 I had lived by him but I was living in opposition to 
 him. From the day when I had withdrawn myself 
 from his influence, through all the exaltation which 
 had transported me and yet left me in a state of un- 
 easiness, I had felt myself free, but out of my frame. 
 In what condition should I find him? I was afraid, 
 and that is why I paused for a time before opening 
 the door. On leaving home, after having seen him 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 389 
 
 cheered by the whole town, I had carried away with 
 me the picture of my father leaning against the 
 house, assured victor over the pestilence as long ago 
 he had been victor over those dreaded mole-crickets, 
 cheerfully bearing the burden of a city in distress, 
 counting upon the future as on the past, in a word, 
 immortal, — one to whom in his authority I could 
 therefore give pain without scruple, — and now, in 
 a second, I should see him — how? He was there, 
 on the other side of that door, motionless, laid low, 
 humiliated, no longer leading every one like a flock, 
 fighting on his own account against the insidious 
 disease that was consuming him. I felt a sort of 
 terror of this inevitable contrast, mingled, I have to 
 confess, with a personal horror of the sight of hu- 
 miliation. 
 
 Well, there was neither humiliation nor contrast. 
 I went in and saw him. Stretched at full length upon 
 the bed he seemed even taller than when standing — 
 that was indisputable. His head was lying back 
 upon the bolster and I was especially struck with 
 the forehead, that broad forehead luminous with the 
 light that sifted through the curtains. The un- 
 wonted thinness only emphasised the nobility of the 
 features. There was no trace either of anxiety or 
 fear, and as for suffering, if its mark was there it 
 had brought with it no inferiority. His eyes were 
 closed, but at times he opened them wide, almost 
 startlingly. When had I thus seen them take on 
 the imprint of the things at which he was gazing? 
 
390 THE HOUSE 
 
 Before Melanie's last farewell they used so to fix them- 
 selves upon my sister, upon my sister who was to go 
 away for always, and whom he would never see again. 
 
 His whole attitude, his whole expression was gath- 
 ering itself together, or rather was fixing itself in 
 its highest character : he had not ceased to command. 
 And my first word, my only word, was a consent to 
 his command. 
 
 " Father," I said, standing beside the bed. 
 
 I did not utter the word in the sense of filial piety, 
 but because his ascendency subjugated me, overawed 
 me. Yes, in this dimly lighted chamber, heavy with 
 the odour of medicines, suffering and fever, that com- 
 plex odour which is as it were the advance herald 
 of death, I mechanically came back into subordina- 
 tion, as a soldier about to desert returns to his place 
 in the ranks under the eye of his chief. I was aware 
 of this change in myself. That mysticism in which 
 I had so revelled and which isolated me from all the 
 universe, melted away like clouds before the first 
 rays of dawn. I recognised my dependence, and all 
 the truth of my childish thoughts when they used 
 to begin by making the tour of the house, and the 
 antiquity and the justice of the power still held in 
 those weakening hands, which clasped with pale rigid 
 fingers a little crucifix which at first I had not ob- 
 served. 
 
 I thought I had spoken aloud, but he could not 
 have heard me, for he did not turn toward me. I 
 could hear his low voice — that voice that I remem- 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 391 
 
 bered so ringing — whispering as if he were, recit- 
 ing a litanj. 
 
 " What is he saying? " I asked softly of my 
 mother, who drew near. 
 
 " Your names," she murmured. " Listen ! " 
 
 Yes, one after another he was naming us all. Those 
 of the three elder had already passed his lips : he pro- 
 nounced that of Louise. It was my turn, but he 
 passed it and named Nicola, then James. The omis- 
 sion hurt me cruelly, but I had hardly had time to 
 feel it when I heard my name, last of all, detached 
 and set apart. Suddenly I remembered Martinod's 
 odious insinuations as to his preference for one of 
 my brothers; and I understood that no one of us 
 was the favourite, but that just because of the anxi- 
 ety I had given I had been the object of a special 
 solicitude. The irresistible desire swept over me to 
 reveal to him, in a word, the change that had sud- 
 denly taken place in me. He used to dwell with such 
 interest and even such respect upon our vocation — 
 believing that it would be the basis of our whole life 
 — I had systematically put aside mine, to make sure 
 of my liberty. Now, with full conviction, I had re- 
 covered it. Taking a step forward I said firmly: 
 
 " Father, I am here. It is I. Upon the moun- 
 tain I reflected. Don't you know? I want to be a 
 doctor, like you." 
 
 On the mountain? That was not true, but did 
 not piety command me to conceal the cause of my 
 change of mind? He did not show the joy that I 
 
392 THE HOUSE 
 
 expected — perhaps he could no longer show joy over 
 anything. Perhaps another work, the last, that of 
 detachment, was going on in him. He lifted to me 
 his almost terrifying eyes. 
 
 " Francis," he repeated. 
 
 He tried to raise his hand to lay it upon my head. 
 Though I leaned low over him he could not do it, 
 and his arm feU back. I kneeled, that he might do 
 it with less effort. He did not even try, as I had 
 hoped, but in that low voice in which he had named 
 us one by one, he said distinctly: 
 
 " Your turn has come." 
 
 My mother, who was a little behind, drew near to 
 ask me the same question that I had asked her: 
 
 " What is he saying? " 
 
 I made an instinctive movement as if to say that 
 I did not precisely know — yet I had clearly heard 
 him, and after a moment of hesitation, the expres- 
 sion ceased to be mysterious to me. I could see in 
 it an evidence of confidence in the past. My father 
 had not admitted my treachery, my enfranchise- 
 ment, he had been sure that I would return to him; 
 he counted upon me. But in its form as from be- 
 yond the tomb the utterance had a still deeper sig^ 
 nificance, which completely overcame me ; my father 
 was tendering to my weakness the royal crown of the 
 family, inviting me to wear it after him, because I 
 should be, at home, his successor, his heir. I had 
 never thought of that. 
 
 Did my mother understand the emotion which 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 
 
 bowed and shattered me? She reminded me that I 
 needed food after my long journey in the cold air, 
 and went with me to the door. 
 
 " Valentine," murmured the sick man. 
 
 " I am not leaving you, dear." And she turned 
 from me to hurry back to him. 
 
 I did not leave the room, but remained and wit- 
 nessed a scene which almost without words, appar- 
 ently obscure and far away, was only all the more 
 clear to me. 
 
 My father began by saying: 
 
 " Listen ! " He was looking at no one at the mo- 
 ment; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling above him. 
 He made no haste to speak, he was gathering him- 
 self together. An indescribable anguish swept over 
 me. I divined that my presence had shaken him, and 
 that he was collecting his thoughts as to the future 
 of the family. What he had to say to my mother 
 was doubtless his last wish on the subject. Had 
 I not a right to hear, since my turn had come? 
 
 Perhaps my mother, too, understood. She was at 
 the bedside, leaning over, and the sheet which hung 
 out against her knee shook slightly. I am sure I 
 saw it shake — was it the trembling of her knee? 
 And then I saw nothing except one face. 
 
 My father was still silent. I could hear the mo- 
 notonous moan of the fountain in the court. Mother 
 urged him tenderly: 
 
 " My love, my dear love . . ." 
 
 His mind was entirely lucid. He had himself fol- 
 
394 THE HOUSE 
 
 lowed the progress of Ms disease, he knew precisely 
 how he was. At her words he seemed to emerge from 
 the thoughts in which he was plunged; he turned his 
 head slightly and looked at my mother with his al- 
 most awe-inspiring gaze, which penetrated deeply 
 into her heart. 
 
 " Valentine," he repeated, simply. 
 
 " You had something to say to me? " 
 
 With infinite gentleness he murmured : " Oh, no, 
 Valentine. I have nothing to say to you." 
 
 I am sure that he had meant to confide to her the 
 future of the house, and one gaze had been enough 
 to silence him. That gaze alone had told him that 
 there was no need. She who was there, close beside 
 him, was she not his flesh and his heart? All those 
 years together, day by day, without one difference 
 of opinion, one cloud, had made them indissolubly 
 one. What could one utterance add to aU that? 
 Was ever greater evidence of love given to wife than 
 that silence, that confidence, that peace! . . . 
 
 After those high moments I was overpowered by 
 the human cowardice which finds a sort of solace 
 in absence from the scene of calamity. I left the 
 room. Grandfather was getting down from the dili- 
 gence with Nicola, already a big girl, growing seri- 
 ous, and Jamie, lighter minded, whose twelve years 
 were not yet troubled by any presentiment. Grand- 
 father was anxiously superintending the trans- 
 portation of his violin case and his almanacs; his 
 
THET^lSnO OF A KEIGN 396 
 
 collection of pipes was not to be entrusted to any 
 hands but his own. Aunt Deen attended in person 
 to the heavy luggage. Notwithstanding her years 
 and declining strength, she still took upon herself a 
 servant's duties. Physical effort alone could relieve 
 her mind; with her, sorrow expressed itself in in- 
 creased activity. 
 
 Once in the house, grandfather wandered about 
 like a soul in pain. He hovered around the sick room 
 without venturing to enter. He dared not ask ques- 
 tions, and in his uncertainty he made his moan to 
 any one whom he saw: 
 
 " I am getting old. I am old." 
 
 They saw one another, but I was not present. It 
 was not necessary to be present to realise what it 
 must have been, and that the son, inevitably, sup- 
 ported and comforted the father. If life does not 
 draw from a religious heart the fervour of a con- 
 stant upward progress, one must always remain what 
 one has been. For some the burden, for others the 
 looking on. And even the approach of death does 
 not change things. 
 
 As evening drew on, grandfather, who was drag- 
 ging himself from room to room, bemoaning himself, 
 timidly proposed that we should take a walk. 
 
 " That's a good idea," said Aunt Deen, who un- 
 derstood him. " There are two or three errands at 
 the chemist's and the grocer's." 
 
 He manifested a childish joy at being made useful 
 and I did not refuse to go with him. After the soli- 
 
396 THE HOUSE 
 
 tude of the mountain, with its silent nights, we found 
 a secret pleasure in the lighted streets and the com- 
 ing and going of people. The epidemic had been 
 completely checked ; the sanitary measures which had 
 been ordered left not the slightest danger to be 
 feared. Awakened from its nightmare, the town was 
 giving itself over to transports of joy^ the reaction 
 from terror. I had seen it in its consternation rush- 
 ing with loud cries to seek salvation in one man, and 
 I found it now in all the heyday and thoughtlessness 
 of a festival. The autumn softness floated like a per- 
 fume over all. The shops were lighted up. The 
 pavements were crowded with people and the cafes 
 overflowed to the very street. The women were in 
 light dresses which they had not been able to wear 
 all summer, and j aunty in their fresh costumes trans- 
 formed the season into a belated spring. After so 
 much mourning life was sweet, and funerals were rele- 
 gated to the background. 
 
 I was the son of their saviour. I expected tokens 
 of popular favour, and behold people avoided us, as 
 I was not slow to see. The sight of that old man 
 and that youth forced upon them the thought of their 
 benefactor, and recalled the evil days through which 
 they had passed. Evidently no one wanted to think 
 of them. We should have liked to talk over all the 
 troubles, but no one gave us an opportunity. 
 
 Finally, some one spoke to us. It was Martinod, 
 Martinod with his pursed-up mouth and sleek beard 
 who, without giving me time to shake him off, began 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 
 
 to talk of my father admiringly, eloquently, enthusi- 
 astically, awarding him full and entire justice, cele- 
 brating his courage, his organising ability, his med- 
 ical skill, his marvellous art of directing men. I had 
 resolved, on seeing him, to turn my back upon him 
 with contempt, and here I was, full of gratitude, 
 drinking in his words — forgetting his calumnies, his 
 base manoeuvres, his secret plots, which had so nearly 
 destroyed the unity of our family. I ought to have 
 been seeking upon his face the mark imprinted by 
 my father's hand, and here I was listening to his 
 brazen encomiums. I was still too simple minded to 
 imagine what he was designing. 
 
 GaUus and Merinos, who next met us, were quite 
 ready to descant upon themselves and the cruel trials 
 from which they had fortunately emerged. We tried 
 to speak of poor Cassenave and the unlucky Galurin, 
 but they changed the subject by informing us that 
 one of them was composing a Funeral March and 
 the other a Ikunse Macabre, in commemoration of the 
 historic typhus. I have never learned that either 
 was finished. 
 
 When we returned home, somewhat cheered up by 
 the change, we met Mariette at the door, full of in- 
 dignant wrath. She had served us for more than 
 twenty years, and never thought of controlling her- 
 self in our presence. The little doctor who had 
 long ago visited me in my attack of pleurisy had 
 attempted to slip a gold piece into her hand, begging 
 her to give his name and address to the patients 
 
398 THE HOUSE 
 
 who continued to crowd to our house, and with an 
 emphatic gesture she had thrown his gold at his 
 head. 
 
 " The wretched creature ! " exclaimed Aunt Deen, 
 who had witnessed the incident from the staircase. 
 " Ah! they are all just alike! " 
 
 And I ceased to deny the existence of those who 
 surrounded us, " they," and knew that calamity was 
 impending over us. 
 
 A little later in the evening, just before the dinner 
 hour, as the bell rang I went myself to the door, 
 thinking that it might be my brother Stephen, ar- 
 riving from Rome, whence he had been recalled the 
 previous evening. I saw before me in the shadow, 
 for the vestibule lamp but feebly lighted the door- 
 step, one of our poor people, old Yes- Yes, with 
 his ever-nodding head. I knew that he was stiU 
 alive, though Zeeze Million had carried her dreams 
 of fortune with her to the grave. Why did he come 
 on another day than Saturday, the regular day of 
 the poor? 
 
 " Wait," I said. " I'll go for some money." 
 
 But he caught my arm almost familiarly. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he began, " that's not it." 
 
 "What then.?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, he cured me, you understand. So it's 
 to learn, yes, to learn how he is." 
 
 Full of gratitude he had come for information. I 
 spoke more gently, as I replied: 
 
 " Always the same, friend." 
 
THE END OF A REIGN 399 
 
 " Ah, ah ! yes, yes, so much the worse." 
 I wondered why he did not go. Did he after all, 
 hope for a little money ? Suddenly, like a stammerer 
 who has succeeded in getting hold of his words, and 
 makes the most of it, he thrust his face close to mine, 
 exclaiming: 
 
 "He — he — he was a man! Yes, yes." 
 And he at once disappeared in tBe darkness. I 
 gazed into the shadows which had swallowed him 
 up, and then suddenly closed the door ; — but too late, 
 for it seemed to me that some one had come in, an 
 invisible some one who took his way up the stairs, 
 through the passage, to the room. I tried to cry out, 
 but my lips uttered no sound ; and I thought to my- 
 self that if I had cried out they would have thought 
 me crazy. I stood there paralysed, knowing that 
 some one had come into the house before me, and 
 that I could not drive out him who was there, before 
 me, who would not go out, who was noiselessly going 
 up the stairs, his actual presence unsuspected by all 
 but me. 
 
 Now I understood the true, the irreparable mean- 
 ing of what I had vaguely seen without admitting 
 that I saw it. That poor stammering creature had 
 said " He was a man," speaking of my father in the 
 past tense, speaking of my father as if my father 
 was no longer living. Then that invisible presence 
 which had come in by the open door was Death. For 
 the first time it seemed to me an active thing, for 
 the first time Death seemed to me — there is no other 
 
400 THE HOUSE 
 
 word ■ — ■ dime. Until that moment I had attached no 
 importance to its acts. And in my horror and im- 
 potence, I stood there, my arms hanging helpless at 
 my sides. 
 
 Long ago, when we had been in danger of losing 
 the house, I had been bom into the unknown sense 
 of grief; now I was born into the sense of death. 
 And I felt all the cruelty of the parting, before it 
 had come to pass. 
 
 As in that long ago time, I fled into the garden 
 and threw myself upon the grass. The night was 
 there before me; the earth was cold and seemed to 
 repel me. The wind which had risen was wrenching 
 the branches of the chestnut trees, and they groaned, 
 uttering lamentations. Especially one of them, the 
 one of the breach in the wall, never ceased moaning, 
 and I thought to see it fall. I recalled to mind some 
 that I had seen in the forest of the Alpette after a 
 storm, prone upon the ground, at such length that 
 the eye was astonished on measuring them from root 
 to tip. And I recalled, too, that picture in my Bible 
 of the tail cedars of Lebanon lying on the ground — 
 those that were destined to be used in building the 
 Temple in Jerusalem. 
 
 The beams of the roof seemed to be complaining, 
 like the trees, and I expected to see the house fall 
 into a heap. What would there be to wonder 
 at, if the house did fall, since my father was dying? 
 
IV 
 
 THE HEIE 
 
 SoBEOws like these have their own modesty, and 
 I throw a veil over mine. . . . 
 
 I resume my story at the time when we resumed 
 our ordinary life. The first meal by ourselves con- 
 secrated its permanence, after the comings and go- 
 ings of relatives and friends were over, with all the 
 confusion inseparable from a house of mourning. 
 My brother Stephen, who had hastened from Rome, 
 had gone back to complete his theological studies. 
 Melanie was doubtless finding expression for her own 
 grief by more complete devotion to all the sorrows 
 of the hospital, and Bernard, far away, had acknowl- 
 edged the blow by a brief cablegram in which we could 
 measure his affection. We others, who remained, 
 could now count one another like the wounded after 
 defeat. 
 
 The bell rang and we must go to the dining- 
 room. Grandfather came in from his walk; he was 
 bent and broken, he leant upon his cane, bemoaning 
 himself about something, I can not tell what. Some- 
 thing had gone wrong, he himself could not quite un- 
 derstand. 
 
 " Ah ! " he sighed, all out of breath. " I thought 
 
 I should never get back to the house." 
 
 401 
 
403 THE HOUSE 
 
 He spoke as we used to speak when we were lit- 
 tle. But had we ever left off saying The House? I 
 saw him so old and weak and hardly realised that 
 it was he who used to take me into the woods and on 
 the lake, in those days when both of us used to sally 
 forth in all tranquillity for the conquest of liberty. 
 In my transformation, going to the other extreme, 
 I gazed upon him now with an excessive pity which 
 bordered upon contempt. 
 
 Yes, when the soldiers are on the ramparts the 
 town may question and discuss, may they not.? It 
 questions and discusses the utility of arms and forti- 
 fications, their destruction appearing a slight thing. 
 But what if there are no soldiers and the enemy is at 
 the gates? 
 
 Thus in the old days we could talk of our desires 
 and our dreams, of the commonwealth of the future, 
 and above all, of our dear liberty. We could, then, 
 and now we can no more, for there is no one defend- 
 ing us, and we are face to face with life, with our 
 own destinies. He is no longer here, grandfather, 
 who used to mount guard on the ramparts for the 
 whole family. 
 
 Aunt Deen was putting finishing touches to the 
 table. She was very old to im.pose so much labour 
 upon herself, never stopping to rest from morning 
 till night. 
 
 " Don't, aunt, it is not your work." 
 But she protested and muttered and began to weep 
 aloud. 
 
THE HEIR 403 
 
 " You mustn't prevent my working. I feel it less 
 when I am working." 
 
 Didn't I know, too, that there was now no one in 
 the kitchen but Mariette, because things were changed 
 with us? Each of us must do his part, and Aunt 
 Deen, as usual, began first. 
 
 Louise was no longer gay, as she used to be. She 
 came in, leading her sister Nicola, as if to protect 
 her. Why did I look more lovingly at their fair hair.? 
 Was I already thinking of the new uncertainties of 
 their future? Jamie, left mostly to himself these 
 latter days, had not been good, and my mother was re- 
 proving him. He probably thought that she would 
 never think of scolding him, and all astonishment, he 
 obeyed. And now we must take our seats around the 
 table. 
 
 Mother had taken her old place in the middle, and 
 I found in her manner, in her voice gentle as always, 
 an indescribable new authority, inexplicable and yet 
 to be felt. She turned to grandfather, who came 
 next. 
 
 " It is for you to take his place," she said indicat- 
 ing my father's chair, opposite to hers. 
 
 " Oh, not I! " exclaimed grandfather with agita- 
 tion. " Valentine, I can't take that place. I am 
 nothing now but an old beast." 
 
 She urged, but in vain; nothing would induce him 
 to yield. Then my mother turned to me with that 
 expression, at once calm and frightened, which she 
 had worn ever since — since she became a widow. 
 
404 THE HOUSE 
 
 " It must be you," she said. 
 
 Without a word I seated myself in my father's 
 place and for a few moments I found it impossible 
 to speak. Why this emotion for so simple and nat- 
 ural a thing? So simple and so natural indeed was 
 the transmission of authority. 
 
 I have compared the house to a kingdom, and the 
 succession of heads of the family to a dynasty. And 
 now this dynasty had come to me. My mother was 
 exercising the regency, and I was wearing the crown. 
 And now I learned at the same time its weight and 
 its honour. As before this I had been bom into sor- 
 row and into death, I was now born into the sense 
 of my responsibility in life. Indeed I do not know 
 whether I can compare the feeling that took posses- 
 sion of me with any other emotion. It pierced my 
 heart with that sharp and cruel dart which is gen- 
 erally attributed to love. And from my wound 
 sprang up, as it were, a gush of red blood, the sense 
 of exaltation which was to colour all my life — blood 
 which, far from subtracting from life's forces, would 
 add to the eternal defences of our race. 
 
 Thus, before I had attained the age of man, I en- 
 tered, by anticipation, upon the great struggle which 
 without fail forms a part of every human existence, 
 the struggle between liberty and acceptance, between 
 the horror of servitude and the sacrifices which are 
 the price of permanence. A delightful but danger- 
 ous teacher had early revealed to me the miraculous 
 charm of nature, of that very love and pride with 
 
THE HEIR 405 
 
 which we think to bring the earth into subjection, 
 but this too sweet and enervating charm would never 
 again entirely possess me. My life was henceforth 
 fixed to an iron ring: it would no longer depend 
 upon my own fancy. Toward the mirages of hap- 
 piness I should henceforth reach out only fettered 
 hands. But these fetters are those which every man 
 must one day assume, whether he actually mounts a 
 throne or whether his empire is only over an acre or 
 a name. Like a king I was responsible for the de- 
 cadence or the prosperity of the kingdom — The 
 House. 
 
 A few days later, since I must begin my medical 
 studies, I also was obliged to go away, for a time. 
 This parting tore my heart: in the zeal of my new 
 part, I would fain have believed my presence neces- 
 sary to my mother, who must be quite crushed by 
 the loss of him who was her life. Her calmness, 
 however, surprised me, and also the clearness of her 
 judgment, and that mysterious new authority that 
 every one felt. At the time of the funeral Martinod 
 had begged for the honour of making a speech, re- 
 minding all present of my father's devotion to the 
 public weal, but she had refused. I could not un- 
 derstand her repelling a repentant enemy, and would 
 willingly have given a contrary opinion. But not long 
 afterward we learned that Martinod, hoping to cap- 
 ture the Mayor's office, had counted upon thus mak- 
 ing use of the dead to regain his lost popularity. 
 
406 THE HOUSE 
 
 Aunt Deen's they had not laid aside their arms. 
 They would never lay them aside. But the hearth- 
 stone had its watchful guardians, neither to be duped 
 nor lulled to sleep. 
 
 But there would be loneliness there, with only Nic- 
 ola and Jamie. Grandfather would hardly count, for 
 he was failing from day to day. He who had al- 
 ways had such horror of enclosures now asked almost 
 every evening if the doors were locked and bolted. 
 What did he fear? Once, arousing from a doze, he 
 earnestly called for his father. Aunt Deen took him 
 up almost roughly: 
 
 " You know very well that he has been dead these 
 thirty years ! " 
 
 To our stupefaction he quickly rephed, 
 
 " No, no, not him, the other." 
 
 " What other? What do you mean? " 
 
 " The one who was there a little while ago," he said, 
 pointing in the direction of the consulting room. 
 
 Then we understood that there was a confusion of 
 generations in his brain. He felt that he had lost 
 his support, and very naturally our father had be- 
 come his. 
 
 Much affected by his confusion of mind, I became 
 more just to him. Together we had lost the em- 
 pire of liberty. 
 
 The evening before my departure I went to my 
 mother's room. I had expected to lend her cou]> 
 age for our parting, and behold I was weaker and 
 more agitated than she. 
 
THE HEIR 407 
 
 " I shall come back," I said positively, " and 1 shall 
 try to follow him." 
 
 We never spoke of him otherwise, among our- 
 selves. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " your turn has come." 
 
 Then she had heard and understood. And as, my 
 head on her shoulder, I expressed my sorrow at leav- 
 ing her in her trouble, she comforted me. 
 
 " Listen ; we must not be sad." 
 
 Was it she who spoke thus? I raised my head 
 in surprise and looked at her; her face, ravaged by 
 trials, chiselled by the sorrow of the most ardent 
 love, was almost colourless. All its expression 
 centred in her eyes, so gentle, so pure, so limpid. 
 She was changed and aged. And yet there was in 
 her an indescribable firmness which she imparted to 
 all around her, no one knew how. 
 
 " Don't be surprised," she said. " That first 
 night I was so overwhelmed with despair that I 
 prayed God to take me. I cried unto Him and He 
 heard me. He sustained me, but in another way. I 
 had not believed enough. Now I believe as we ought 
 to believe. We are not parted, don't you see ? — 
 We are going forward to meet again." 
 
 A Book of Hours was lying on the work 
 table beside her. I mechanically took it up. It 
 opened of itself to a page which she must have read 
 often. 
 
 " Read it aloud," she said. 
 
408 THE HOUSE 
 
 It was the prayer of the dying, to be recited 
 during the approach of death: 
 
 " Leave this world. Christian souly in the name of 
 God the Father Almighty who created thee; in the 
 name of Jesus Christ, Son of the living God who suf- 
 fered for thee; in the name of Angels and Archangels, 
 of Thrones and Dominations; in the name of Prkir 
 cipalities and Powers, of Cherubim and Seraphim; 
 in the name of the Patriarchs and Prophets, and of 
 the Holy Apostles and Evangelists; in the name of 
 the Holy Martyrs and Confessors, in the name of 
 the holy Monks and Solitaries, in the name of the 
 holy Virgins, amd of all the Saints of God. May thy 
 dwelling be this day in peace and thy habitation in 
 the Holy Places! . . ." 
 
 All heaven assembled to receive the Soul to whom 
 the portals of Life were opened. 
 
 We are not parted; we are going forward to meet 
 again; I understood the meaning of her words. 
 
 In the silence that followed my reading, once more 
 I heard the monotonous lament of the fountain in the 
 court, and I recalled my father's confidence when, 
 about to speak, confidence had closed his lips. What 
 could he have said to my mother which she would not 
 know from him? She was still living with him. She 
 would finish his work, and then she would go to join 
 him. It was so simple ; and this was why she was 
 so at peace. 
 
TUJi HJEIK 409 
 
 Her calmness communicated itself to Aunt Deen, 
 always at work, and ever on the lookout for the most 
 humiliating duties, polishing floors or black- 
 ing shoes, as if she would punish herself for having 
 outlived her nephew. And when mother gently took 
 her to task for her excessive devotion, she would pro- 
 test with tears, as if begging a favour. 
 
 As at evening one sees the village lights come out, 
 one by one, along the slopes, so I could see the lights 
 of our house shining out even beyond our own hori- 
 zon, to the ends of the world, and even beyond the 
 world. They were shining for the absent as well as 
 for the present, for Melanle at the bedside of the 
 poor, for Stephen at Rome, and for Bernard, soldier 
 of the outposts in his far distant colony. And they 
 were shining still higher. 
 
 And it seemed to me that the walls whose re- 
 strictions I had deplored during my years of youth, 
 during my mad search for liberty, were opening of 
 themselves to let me pass out. They no longer kept 
 me a prisoner. How should they keep me a prisoner? 
 Wherever I might henceforth go, I should carry with 
 me a bit of earth, a bit of my earth, as if I had been 
 made of its dust, as God made the first man. 
 
 That evening, the eve of my departure, my faith 
 in The House became faith in The Eternal House 
 where the dead live again in peace. . . . 
 
 April, 1908— -December, 1913. 
 
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