The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant Code: A Tale of the Grand MonarchSue, Eugène
History
The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant Code: A Tale of the Grand Monarch
Sue, Eugène
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
These short words, together with the energetic expression of the
blacksmith's countenance, produced upon the vassals an instantaneous
effect. They all rose simultaneously, clenched their fists
threateningly, and some of them stamped angrily with their heels upon
the fragments of the yoke that Tankeru had broken. Desirous that his
guests remain under the sway of the thoughts that the incident had
awakened in their minds, Tankeru said to them:
"I am going upstairs to see whether my daughter is ready with her
toilet. It will not be long before her bridegroom will be here."
Tina, the betrothed of Nominoë, surrounded with her friends and
relatives who joined her grandmother in prinking up the girl, was seated
in their midst in the old dame's bedroom. It would be hard to depict to
oneself a more charming and dainty girl than "Little Tina," as she was
commonly called by her companions. Her blonde hair shone like gold in
the sun; her eyes, bluer than the cornflower, reflected the sweetness of
her angelic disposition. Everything breathed gladness around her, and
yet her delicate features, full of candor and grace, were expressive of
profound sadness. Alas! Her moist eyes, piercing the glass in the leaden
frame of the narrow window in the room, wandered far away, vainly
expecting for a long time to see the nuptial procession at the head of
which her betrothed was to appear. Tina's friends exchanged a few words
in a low voice, while the grandmother held in her hands the nuptial
ribbons--white, signifying the innocence of the bride; red, her beauty;
and black, her sorrow at leaving her family. As the grandmother was
about to tie the symbolic bunting on Tina's head, the girl emerged from
her revery, took the knot of ribbons in her hand, gazed upon it in
silence, and pointing with her finger to the black, said with a
heartrending sigh:
"Grandma, this should be the only color of my nuptial ribbons--black,
like the wings of a crow."
"Still harping on the memory of that presage of evil!" said the
grandmother in a voice of affectionate reproach. "To entertain such sad
thoughts on such a beautiful day is to offend God."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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