Camille Debans

“ Firmin does not notice the evil slur in the old man’s suggestion. As soon as he dashes forth, all seek to evade him.
Catherine, blushing a little in spite of herself, leaves the open glade and gains the forest. In two or three long strides Firmin might overtake her, but she is too quick for him, because she darts first to the right and then to the left so skilfully that the great fellow, each time going as straight as an arrow, overleaps her by several feet and so loses her, much to the amusement of the others.
“What a goose!” grumbles that beast of an Andoche. ”

“ Every moment those bloody fingers seem burning into my flesh. That is my just punishment. It will follow me wherever I go. I cannot escape. The blood of my innocent husband will be forever on my head. My hands will wear the crimson stain so long as I live. My cheek will always bear the marks of bloody fingers. My poor Savin’s legacy to me is a legacy of blood!”
She paused in a paroxysm of passion.
“And now, Bruno, you understand why I bid you to marry our little Sidonie. She will make you happy. ”

“ No one claimed the dead cattle. The controversy was alone confined to the living. The sun in a final burst of glory flashed a brilliant farewell to this section of the earth as Madame Barrau, excited to hatred and anger and imagining all kinds and degrees of troubles to be hers, went on her way with downcast eyes. Once, however, she glanced at the parting orb, whose lustrous rays recalled to her mind Bruno’s look of joy when he beheld her beside the couch.
If Catherine had allowed herself to remember only Savin’s generosity instead of harboring wicked thoughts ”

“ But rather than go with him she fell to the ground, sobbing.
“Catherine, my girl, come,” urged Savin, more gently. “Do not be a baby; come willingly. People are mocking at us.”
Did the young woman believe her husband would weaken? Or did she think it dramatic to make a scene? Who knows? At all events, she raised her hand to strike her husband on the face, when he, foreseeing the intention, arrested the blow. His movement was so rapid that he did not realize what strength he exerted in seizing her fingers. Held as firmly as though she were in a vice, Catherine uttered a little cry of pain. ”

“ Sidonie clasped Mother Mathurine with gracious joy.
By the side of Monsieur Eugène old Jeannille sat as though transfixed, with her eyes sharply directed at the lame girl. One by one the stars began to blossom in the heavens. Night was come. Nature had fallen asleep and the beautiful silver lights were keeping guard on high.
With renewed thanks to his kind benefactor Bruno, assisted by Mother Mathurine, Jean, and Sidonie, started for home. Sidonie’s face beamed with pleasure as the young man leaned his right arm on her shoulder. Happy Sidonie! ”

“ But Sidonie knew no fear. Covered with her mantle, a narrow cap on her head, and sabots on her feet, the brave girl fared forth and soon disappeared among the forest trees. Jeannille Marselon watched her little red skirt until she was lost to view.
“Vaumarin,” she softly murmured. The place was seven good miles away, and the roads were bad. Up hill and down dale for seven miles the little maid must go and come back again, over the mountainous roads. What love, what devotion impelled her! It was to save the man she adored. If it were in his power Jean Manant would save Bruno. ”

“ Though they were speaking in muffled tones, they were thoroughly aroused and the energy of mad passion controlled their words.
“If only you could have loved me, fair tigress,” said Firmin in a whisper, overcome by her imperial beauty.
“I do not love people who are the laughing-stock of the village. Everybody is making fun of you. Were you less a coward Savin would have paid for his insults from you before this. Bruno would have found a way to have punished him.”
Bruno! Catherine well knew how to touch Firmin’s jealousy. ”

“ Through these they plunge and go tearing along the highway, the earth seeming to tremble beneath their feet. The little booths by the wayside are far from safe. A part of Andoche’s jacket is carried away impaled upon the horn of a bull which has dashed against the wall of the cabaret. Consternation fills the hearts of the villagers. All who have dear ones abroad on the road or in the fields are pale with anguish. Children, too, are missing, and the suspense is heart-breaking. What will be the sequel? They hardly dare look out to see if the storm and fury have at all abated. ”

“ Not a drop of rain has fallen since the famous day of the raspberry fête, and each morning the sun has risen in the east with more scorching radiance.
The large hamlet of St. Benoit, perfectly suited to such a fair, is crowded in spite of its size. As the sun climbs above the horizon, the cattle accumulate in greater numbers. The peasants are in the best of good spirits, and talk is heard and laughter rings on all sides. ”

“ Not an instant too soon some one rushes out of a neighboring cottage and, clasping the young girl in his arms, prepares to shield her from the oncoming cattle. His presence of mind is remarkable; but no time is left for escape, for the herd is upon him. He makes one more effective move—he hurls the little maid into a clump of rushes, where she falls heavily, but beyond the pale of danger. He rolls under the trampling hoofs, and the whole battalion of beasts passes over the body of one who has attempted the impossible. ”

“ Rain falling upon dry dead leaves makes a gentle swish, alike soothing and grateful; the wind, with its soughing monotone, is companionable; but the snow, with its mysterious white stillness, suggests a phantom—silent, lone, and solitary.
Shivering and shuddering little Sidonie sped on through the forest. Ere long she became aware that she was approaching Vaumarin. What mattered it to her that her garments were drenched, her feet sore and bleeding, and her hands almost frozen? She was nearly there. It was for Bruno’s sake that she had ventured forth. ”

“ But when he heard the young woman proposing to kill Savin he could scarcely trust his ears, and we already have seen with what fear he fled from her. Like most of the peasants, Bruno was a very good marksman. He could handle a gun with considerable skill, and the idea had occurred to Catherine to address him just as she would have made the same proposition, under similar circumstances, to Firmin, Fadard, or even to Andoche, if the latter ever had had a thought for anything but the bottle. But Bruno was desperately in love with her and professedly willing to die for her sake. ”

“ A welcome is always certain and the latch-string is never within.
Without ceremony, therefore, L’Ours enters the cottage, and advancing to a couch gently places his burden on the counterpane. A crowd of curious people has followed and now enters in procession. Bruno’s eyes and cheeks are ghastly with blood and his lips are set and colorless. As he lies motionless upon the bed Jean Manant (L’Ours) begins to feel his hands and limbs with anxious haste. ”

“ A revulsive paroxysm of grief and remorse made her moan piteously.
“Who knows but that he may be dying with no one near to help him?”
How terrible is remorse! Catherine, during those moments of suspense, suffered untold anguish, and when at last she could endure it no longer, she snatched up her wrap and rushed out into the night. The clock tinkled four as she closed the door behind her. Possessed with the one idea of finding her husband, she hurried on, but just as she entered the wood she heard a loud reverberating report. ”

“ This stampede surpasses anything in the way of a calamity ever known in the annals of St. Benoit.
At length, a man armed with a cudgel strides forth as if to encounter the foe. Each advancing bull is driven into the ring by the man Andoche calls “the Bear.” He is a singular-looking figure as he stands there, with his unkempt beard and hair fluttering in the breeze.
Rushing to the spot where Bruno has fallen, L’Ours (“the Bear”) takes a guarded attitude and then strikes out in every direction, beating down the cattle right and left. ”

“ Barrau blushed. The thrust struck home.
“Enough! Enough!” said he, rudely; “I am the master here, at least. And any honest woman should not make such a remark.”
“Indeed! I am a worthless jade, am I? A coquette? A good-for-nothing?”
Savin made an impatient gesture.
“Say it,” she went on; “do not hesitate.”
As though to prevent further disagreement, Savin started to go, but his anger forced him to stop and say: “Ah, well, yes. Yes, then! A woman who compromises herself in the presence of evil tongues has no self-respect.”
“Take care!” cried Catherine, advancing toward him in anger. ”

“ A more lonely, dreary spot on earth could not be found. The rock is situated some three miles from any human habitation, in the midst of a dense and gloomy forest. All the paths leading to it are lined with deep ravines, some of them of frightful depth and filled with a mass of tangled roots and projecting bowlders. Just at the foot of Balance Rock an avalanche of stones has fallen, and these from time to time tumble headlong over the precipice with a thunderous crash. In awful confusion lie the rocks, forming such weird shapes as in the night are enough to fill with dread the bravest heart. ”

“ Catherine hurriedly dressed herself, determined to seek her husband and end her apprehensive suspense. As she crossed the threshold the air made her shiver and she turned back, and while searching for her shawl she regained a share of her wonted composure.
“After all,” she reflected aloud, “I am foolish. If Firmin, as is probable, becomes frightened and runs home, I shall only get deeper into trouble. At this hour all is settled, one way or the other, but Savin probably is quite safe and uninjured. Firmin is too much of a coward to carry out his threat. ”

“ Both stop to watch the game—the first like a man who cannot be induced to enter into any such frivolous pastime; the other like a man incapable of doing so by reason of his poor physique.
“Good-morning, Andoche,” salutes Catherine as she passes the deformed little man, who smiles with a wry, disagreeable face.
“Good-morning, Madame Catherine,” he returns, with a look of malice in his eyes. Then turning to the other he remarks, “You will see how she will manage to invite you to join in.”
Bruno, running at a swift pace, passes before the newcomers. ”

“ Everybody knows Madame Catherine’s love of coquetry. It is not that she cares for you—oh, no! but she hates her husband. If Barrau at any time since the raspberry fête had but asked forgiveness, she would have turned her back on you fast enough, you may be sure.”
In spite of Firmin’s rising indignation, Andoche continues: “And if she were not so often twitted by the village girls of being at odds with Savin, she might now, even, overlook the humiliation she endured that day. But Rosalie and Félicité are always mocking her on the subject, and it only adds fuel to the flame. ”

“ Catherine and Sidonie, the little cripple, remain, but the others file slowly out into the yard. As she is leaving an old peasant woman is motioned to remain. She is a nonentity, but a woman who will follow Monsieur Eugène’s directions to the letter without a quiver of the eyelids or the lips. Nothing astonishes her, for she is like an iceberg—immovable and unfathomable. In the village there are people who declare she never speaks. ”

“ A burst of laughter greeted his gallantry.
“I am indeed honored, Monsieur,” remarked Jenny coquettishly, “but I cannot dance without my father’s permission. Go and ask him.”
“Ah, Madcap, you are joking. Come.”
But she would not listen. She disappeared in the crowd; while the chagrined Fadard addressed another girl, who in a similar way answered: “Go and ask my brother, Monsieur Fadard.”
Fadard by this time was furious. Not only was he deprived of a partner, but he evidently was unpopular among the village girls. He resolved to make one more attempt, and turning to Rosalie he asked for a dance. ”

“ But Bruno did not wish to retreat under another’s protection like a coward.
“No, thank you,” he said: “I will remain.”
“So be it,” returned “the Bear.” “Man is a free agent.”
And the shaggy-haired, strongly built man shambled away without asking if Andoche intended to renew the fight, which was far from Andoche’s wish. He had received a lesson. The women, however, continued to score and revile Catherine. Said one old gossip: “Well, that fool of a Savin has no more than he deserves. When a man marries he ought not to choose a girl who is neither a peasant nor a lady.” ”

“ Stronger men than he have been vanquished by a bad cold—a sudden fever.”
And in imagination she sees him, pale and emaciated, reduced by sickness to a shadow—in a proper condition to be humiliated. At this very moment Barrau appears at the gate, and his powerful step resounds on the gravel. Patachaud dances about him with canine glee. Graceful, young, and vigorous, with broad shoulders and magnificent physique, the gamekeeper advances, opens the door, and enters.
His presence arouses Catherine from her sullen revery. ”