Fantasy fiction, French -- Translations into English; Paranormal fiction, French -- Translations into English
"'Often and often,' said she, 'I have talked for hours with the golden
broom or the tender blue-eyed forget-me-not, and shared in their
troubles. They all wished to quit the earth and fly about; they all
complained of their being condemned to dry up in the ground, and of being
exposed to wait for days and weeks ere a drop of dew came to refresh
them.'
"And so Raesel used to repeat to me endless conversations of this sort.
It was marvellous! If you only heard her you would be capable of falling
in love with a dogrose, or of feeling a lively sympathy and a profound
sentiment of compassion for a violet, its misfortunes and its silent
sufferings.
"What more can I tell you, ladies? It is painful to leave a subject where
the soul has so many mysterious emanations; there is such a field for
conjecture; but as everything in this world must have an end, so must
even the pleasantest dreams.
"Early in the morning of the third day of my stay a gentle breeze began
to roll away the mist from off the lake. I could see its folds become
larger every second as the wind drove them along, leaving one blue corner
in the sky, and then another; then the tower of a village church, some
green pinnacles on the tops of the mountains, then a row of firs, a
valley, all the time the immense mass of vapour slowly floated past us;
by ten it had left us behind it, and the great cloud on the dry peaks of
the Chasseron still wore a threatening aspect; but a last effort of the
wind gave it a different direction, and it disappeared at last in the
gorges of Saint-Croix.
"Then the mighty nature of the Alps seemed to me to have grown young
again; the heather, the tall pines, the old chestnut-trees dripping with
dew, shone with vigorous health; there was something in the view of them
joyous, smiling, and serious all at once. One felt the hand of God was in
it all--His eternity.
"I went downstairs lost in thought; Raesel was already in the apiary.
Young opened the door and pointed her out to me sitting in the shade of
the wild vine, with her forehead resting on her hands, as if in a doze.
"'Be careful,' said he to me, 'not to awake her; her mind is elsewhere;
she sleeps; she is wandering about; she is happy.'
"The bees were swarming about by thousands, like a flood of gold over a
precipice.
"I looked on at this wonderful sight for some seconds, praying the Lord
would continue His love for the poor child.
"Then turning round--
"'Master Young,' said I, 'it is time to go.'
"He buckled my knapsack on for me himself, and put my stick into my hand.
"Mistress Catherine looked on kindly, and they both accompanied me to the
threshold of the chalet.
"'Farewell!' said Walter, grasping my hand; 'a pleasant journey; and
think of us sometimes!'
"'I can never forget you,' I replied, quite melancholy; 'may your bees
flourish, and may Heaven grant you are as happy as you deserve to be!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account