A Woodland Queen ('Reine des Bois') — Volume 1Theuriet, André
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A Woodland Queen ('Reine des Bois') — Volume 1
Theuriet, André
Villages -- France -- Fiction
The slight breath of joyous and renewed life which had animated him on
leaving the Vincart farm, had suddenly evaporated. His anticipations
collapsed in the face of these bristling realities, among which he felt
his isolation more deeply than ever before. He recalled the cordiality
of Reine's reception, and how she had spoken of the difficulties he
should have to encounter. How little he had thought that her forebodings
would come true the very same day! The recollection of the cheerful and
hospitable interior of La Thuiliere contrasted painfully with his cold,
bare Vivey mansion, tenanted solely by hostile domestics. Who were these
people--this Manette Sejournant with her treacherous smile, and this
fellow Claudet, who had, at the very first, subjected him to such
offensive questioning? Why did they seem so ill-disposed toward him? He
felt as if he were completely enveloped in an atmosphere of contradiction
and ill-will. He foresaw what an amount of quiet but steady opposition
he should have to encounter from these subordinates, and he became
alarmed at the prospect of having to display so much energy in order to
establish his authority in the chateau. He, who had pictured to himself
a calm and delightful solitude, wherein he could give himself up entirely
to his studious and contemplative tastes. What a contrast to the
reality!
Rousing himself at last, he proceeded mechanically to arrange his
belongings in the room, formerly inhabited by his cousin de Buxieres.
He had hardly finished when Zelie made her appearance with some plates
and a tablecloth, and began to lay the covers. Seeing the fire had gone
out, the little servant uttered an exclamation of dismay.
"Oh!" cried she, "so the wood didn't flare!"
He gazed at her as if she were talking Hebrew, and it was at least a
minute before he understood that by "flare" she meant kindle.
"Well, well!" she continued, "I'll go and fetch some splinters."
She returned in a few moments, with a basket filled with the large
splinters thrown off by the woodchoppers in straightening the logs: she
piled these up on the andirons, and then, applying her mouth vigorously
to a long hollow tin tube, open at both ends, which she carried with her,
soon succeeded in starting a steady flame.
"Look there!" said she, in a tone implying a certain degree of contempt
for the "city Monsieur" who did not even know how to keep up a fire,
"isn't that clever? Now I must lay the cloth."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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