FullReads

“Here’s to your good health, Father Fouchard.”

“And here’s to yours, my lad.”

Then Goliah unbent and his face assumed an expression of satisfaction; he looked about him like a man pleased with the sight of objects that recalled bygone times. He did not speak of the past, however, nor, for the matter of that, did he speak of the present. The conversation ran on the extremely cold weather, which would interfere with farming operations; there was one good thing to be said for the snow, however: it would kill off the insects. He barely alluded, with a slightly pained expression, to the partially concealed hatred, the affright and scorn, with which he had been received in the other houses of Remilly. Every man owes allegiance to his country, doesn’t he? It is quite clear he should serve his country as well as he knows how. In France, however, no one looked at the matter in that light; there were things about which people had very queer notions. And as the old man listened and looked at that broad, innocent, good-natured face, beaming with frankness and good-will, he said to himself that surely that excellent fellow had had no evil designs in coming there.

“So you are all alone to-day, Father Fouchard?”

“Oh, no; Silvine is out at the barn, feeding the cows. Would you like to see her?”

Goliah laughed. “Well, yes. To be quite frank with you, it was on Silvine’s account that I came.”

Old Fouchard felt as if a great load had been taken off his mind; he went to the door and shouted at the top of his voice:

“Silvine! Silvine! There’s someone here to see you.”

And he went away about his business without further apprehension, since the lass was there to look out for the property. A man must be in a bad way, he reflected, to let a fancy for a girl keep such a hold on him after such a length of time, years and years.

When Silvine entered the room she was not surprised to find herself in presence of Goliah, who remained seated and contemplated her with his broad smile, in which, however, there was a trace of embarrassment. She had been expecting him, and stood stock-still immediately she stepped across the doorsill, nerving herself and bracing all her faculties. Little Charlot came running up and hid among her petticoats, astonished and frightened to see a strange man there. Then succeeded a few seconds of awkward silence.

“And this is the little one, then?” Goliah asked at last in his most dulcet tone.

“Yes,” was Silvine’s curt, stern answer.

Silence again settled down upon the room. He had known there was a child, although he had gone away before the birth of his offspring, but this was the first time he had laid eyes on it. He therefore wished to explain matters, like a young man of sense who is confident he can give good reasons for his conduct.

“Come, Silvine, I know you cherish bitter feelings against me–and yet there is no reason why you should. If I went away, if I have been cause to you of so much suffering, you might have told yourself that perhaps it was because I was not my own master. When a man has masters over him he must obey them, mustn’t he? If they had sent me off on foot to make a journey of a hundred leagues I should have been obliged to go. And, of course, I couldn’t say a word to you about it; you have no idea how bad it made me feel to go away as I did without bidding you good-by. I won’t say to you now that I felt certain I should return to you some day; still, I always fully expected that I should, and, as you see, here I am again–”

She had turned away her head and was looking through the window at the snow that carpeted the courtyard, as if resolved to hear no word he said. Her persistent silence troubled him; he interrupted his explanations to say:

“Do you know you are prettier than ever!”

True enough, she was very beautiful in her pallor, with her magnificent great eyes that illuminated all her face. The heavy coils of raven hair that crowned her head seemed the outward symbol of the inward sorrow that was gnawing at her heart.