Country life -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Love stories
After struggling and wading till I was overheated, though the night
was chilly, I got among some dry brake which were up to my chin; and
looking straight before me, I saw in the gray of the night something
like a huge black mass in the middle of an open tract. I felt sure
it was the big oak, and that I had reached the end of the forest. I
had never seen the tree, but I had heard tell of it, for it was
famous as one of the oldest in the country; and from the talk of
others I knew pretty well how it was shaped. You must surely have
seen it. It is a gnarled tree, topped in its youth by some accident
so that it grew in breadth and thickness; its foliage, shrivelled by
the winter, still clung to it, and it stood up there like a rock
looking to heaven.
I was about to go towards it, thinking I should find the path, which
made a straight line through the woods, when I heard a sound of music
that was something like bagpipes, but so loud you might think it
thunder.
Don't ask me why a thing which ought to have comforted me, by showing
the presence of a human being, did actually frighten me like a child.
I must honestly tell you that in spite of my nineteen years and a
good pair of fists, I had not felt easy after I found I had lost my
way. It was not because wolves do come down sometimes into that
forest from the great woods of Saint-Aoust that I lost heart, nor yet
that I feared any evil-intentioned Christian; but I was chilled
through with the kind of fear that you can't explain to your own
self, because you don't really know the cause of it. The dark night;
the wintry fog; a jumble of noises heard in the woods, with others
coming from the plain; a crowd of foolish stories which you have
heard, and which now start up in your head; and finally the idea of
being all alone far from your own belongings,--there's enough in all
that to upset your mind when you are young, and, indeed, when you are
old.
You can laugh at me if you like; but that music, in that lonely
place, seemed to me devilish. It was too loud and strong to be
natural, and the tune was so sad and strange that it was not like any
other known music on this Christian earth. I quickened my steps;
then I stopped, amazed at another sound. While the music clashed on
one side, a bell chimed on the other; and the two sounds came at me,
as if to prevent me from going forward or back.
I jumped to one side and hid in the brake; and as I did so, there was
a flash of light about four feet from me, and I saw a large black
animal, that I couldn't make out distinctly, spring up and disappear
at a run.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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