Country life -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Love stories
But my brother, having questioned him later, received this reply:
'Huriel, I no longer think of Brulette, and I beg you never to
mention her to me again.' We could get nothing more out of him
except that he was resolved, as soon as he should be received into
the fraternity of bagpipers, to begin his service for a time in his
own country, and prove to his mother that he was able to support her;
after which he intended to take her to live with him in La Marche or
the Bourbonnais, provided I would become his wife. This brought
about a grand explanation between my father, my brother, and myself.
Both tried to make me own that I might be induced to consent. But
Joseph had come back too late for me, and I had made too many
reflections about him. I quietly refused, feeling no longer any
regard for him, and conscious also that he had none for me. I am too
proud a girl to be taken as a remedy for disappointment. I supposed
you had written him to put an end to his hopes."
"No," said Brulette, "I did not, and it is only by the mercy of God
that he has forgotten me. Perhaps it was that he began to know you
better, my Thérence."
"No, no," cried the girl of the woods, resolutely, "If it was not
disappointment at your refusal, it was pique at my cure. He only
cared for me because I had ceased to care for him. If that is his
love, it is not mine, Brulette. All or nothing; yes for life, in all
frankness; or no for life, with all freedom. There's that child
waking up," she continued, interrupting herself, "and I want to take
you to my new abode for a moment; it is in the old castle of Chassin."
"But won't you tell us," said Brulette, who was very much puzzled by
all she heard, "how and why you are in this part of the country?"
"You are in too much of a hurry to know," replied Thérence; "I want
you to see first."
Taking Brulette round the neck with her beautiful bare arm, well
browned by the sun, she led her away without giving her time to take
Charlot, whom she herself caught up like a bundle under her other
arm, although he was now as heavy as a little calf.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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