The Milkmaid of Montfermeil Part 22

"Bless me! so he is, a gentleman who is young."

"Oh! that makes a difference."

"He was very pleasant and friendly with me, and when he learned from me that Pere Calleux spent all the money, he gave me this purse and told me to see that poor Coco has everything he needs. I took it, aunt; did I do wrong?"

"Of course not, my dear; as if you didn't always do right, dear Denise.

Well! you're a good girl too, and you don't let the men talk nonsense to you."

"No, indeed, aunt; but I let that gentleman kiss me."

"Oh! that makes a difference. What did he want to kiss you for?"

"To thank me for agreeing to look after Coco, for he's very fond of him."

"Well, I don't see any harm in all that, my child."

"But Madame Destival did, for she came up to me in a rage and called me----"

"She called you----?"

"Oh! I don't want to repeat the horrid word.--Well! she called me a--a--hussy."

"G.o.d in heaven! my niece, my Denise, a hussy! the virtuousest girl within ten leagues! And you didn't jump at her face?"

"No, aunt; I just said that it was horrible to believe--to think--then I came home with my milk and my cheese."

"You did right, my child, you did right; those folks don't deserve to eat such good things."

Denise did not tell her aunt what Madame Destival had said about her milk and cheese, because Mere Fourcy would be just the woman to go to the business agent and demand satisfaction for such an insult. The girl did not like quarrelling and she wished never to hear Madame Destival's name again. Mere Fourcy went to the village to try to find customers for the milk and cheese. When she was alone, Denise took out the purse and counted its contents in her ap.r.o.n. There were twelve twenty-franc pieces, and six of five francs.

"Two hundred and seventy francs!" exclaimed Denise, throwing up her hands in amazement; "why, that's quite a lot of money. That gentleman must be very rich to give away so much all at once. Perhaps I ought not to have taken it all. But still, as it's for Coco--there's enough to send him to school, to have him learn to read. Yes, but his father don't want him to learn to read. That's a pity, I should like so much to make Coco a gentlemanly, well-taught boy; it would please that gentleman when he comes back--for he'll come to see his little boy; at least, he said he would. Never mind, I'll be very careful of the money; and while I have the time, I think I'll go to the cottage and see if they've done what that gentleman intended they should."

By taking crossroads, one could go in a quarter of an hour from Montfermeil to the home of the Calleux family. Denise walked rapidly along the paths, which were well known to her. She entered the wretched hovel. Coco was seated at a table with old Madeleine. They were dining without Pere Calleux, who, finding himself in funds, preferred the wine-shop to his house.

At sight of Denise, the child gave a joyful cry and ran to her. Denise was so good to him! she always brought him something nice; she often prevented his being beaten; in short, she showed great affection for him; and children love those who love them; it is not always so with men.

"Good-day, little Denise!" said Coco, opening his arms to the girl.

"Take care, good-for-nothing!" said old Madeleine; "you almost upset the table and spilt my soup! I'd have given you a good licking, if you had!"

Denise glanced about the hovel, and saw that the only change that Dalville's money had wrought was the presence of a large new bowl, which was in front of the fire. The child's bed was no softer than before.

"See how fine I am, Denise!" cried the child, exhibiting the trousers and the little brown jacket which replaced the ragged garments that covered him on the preceding day.

"Yes, I see," said Denise, scrutinizing the garments, "but none of these things are new."

"Pardi!" cried old Madeleine, "do you s'pose we was going to have 'em made to order for him? The things are good enough for a brat as plays all the time like him. You'll see in a day or two! they'll soon be full of holes! Ah! he'd wear out clothes made of iron."

"But why didn't you buy him a mattress, Mere Madeleine? I thought that gentleman told you to when he gave you the money."

"Because his father wouldn't have it; he says a boy hadn't ought to be coddled so, because it keeps 'em from getting strong."

"Still, when the money was given for Coco----"

"For Coco? yes, and for us too, my girl; hadn't the parents ought to come before the children?"

"Is Pere Calleux in the field?"

"In the fields! oh, yes! in the fields indeed! He's at Claude's wine-shop. He took all there was left of the money that gentleman give me, and told me he was going to put it into some great undertakin'. Oh, yes! I know all about that; he'll undertake to drink it all up in a day, if it's possible."

"Would you like to have me take Coco away with me till night, Mere Madeleine?"

"No, my girl, no; I'm an old woman, and I don't want to be left alone.

Coco's got to stay with me."

Denise kissed the child, who ran off to play and roll on the ground with his goat; then she returned to the village, asking herself:

"How shall I go to work to do what that gentleman wants done?"

The next day was Sunday. No work in the village. The women paid more attention to their toilet, they donned their prettiest gowns, and in the evening the whole population a.s.sembled on a beautiful greensward shaded by oaks and walnuts. There a wretched violin and a huge tambourine played for the young men and women to dance; they considered the orchestra divine, because it gave the signal for their enjoyment. Denise was the favorite among the young men, and aroused some jealous pangs in the hearts of her companions. The pa.s.sions insinuate themselves everywhere; there are envious and evil-speaking folk in the village as well as in the city; but they are less skilled in disguising their sentiments.

Denise was the prettiest girl in the village and in the country roundabout; that was what all the men said; but all the women did not agree. Denise was no coquette, but she was a woman; and what woman is there who is not conscious of a secret pleasure in the certainty that she is attractive, that she can prevail over her companions? But Denise did not play the coquette with the young men; she did not bestow a smile upon this one, a glance upon that one, a word of hope upon the other; but she laughed and joked and was pleasant to one and all alike; for she was very fond of dancing, and she liked to have everyone invite her to dance.

On the Sunday in question, however, Denise, who had gone to the green with her aunt, as usual, did not seem to enjoy herself so much as she ordinarily did; she laughed less with the young men and seemed not to take any pleasure in dancing. And finally, a thing that had never been seen before, Denise, after four contradances, declared that she was tired and would like to rest a while.

"Is it because you're sick, my child?" Mere Fourcy asked her niece, when she came and seated herself by her side.

"No, aunt, I ain't sick, but I'm tired."

"Tired! you! the greatest dancer in the whole country!"

"Well! I guess one gets tired of everything, aunt. I don't feel in the mood to-day."

"That makes a difference."

"Come on, Mamzelle Denise, come and have a dance," several young men said to the little milkmaid. And one of them pulled her arm until he almost dislocated it, another struck his palm against hers with all his might, and a third, while saluting her, trod on her feet. With such delicate attentions it is customary to pay court to a village belle, who sometimes retorts by a ringing slap on the gallant's face, thereby indicating that he is in her good graces.

But Denise distributed no slaps among the youths who surrounded her; she simply sent them away, saying:

"Let me alone, when I tell you that I don't want to dance."

"Oh, yes, you do! oh, yes! She'll dance--you'll dance--she's joking when she says that."

But Denise held her ground, and when the dancers had taken their leave, she said to her aunt:

"Bless my soul! how stupid they all are!"

"Who, my girl?"