Letters from my Windmill Part 12

--Mamette, my coat!... I want to accompany him to the square.

Naturally, Mamette was quietly worried that it was a bit too cold now for him to go out, but she didn't let on; except, as she was helping him into his Spanish smoking jacket with mother of pearl b.u.t.tons, I heard the dear old soul gently saying:

--You won't be out too long, will you?

--Ah, ha! I don't know, you'll have to wait and see ... he answered, a touch mischievously.

With that, they exchanged looks and laughed, and the little blues joined in, a mood caught even by the canaries--in their chirping way.... Between ourselves, I think they had all been a bit intoxicated by the smell of the cherries.

... Night fell as the grandfather and I went out. His little blue followed us at a distance to help him home, but he never noticed her, and he was proud fit to burst, to walk on my arm like a man. Mamette, beaming, saw it from her doorstep and nodded her head as she looked in a way that seemed to say: "Well, well, he's my very own, dear, little man!... and he still has some go in him."

PROSE BALLADS

When I opened my door this morning, I was surprised by a great carpet of h.o.a.r-frost around the windmill. Gra.s.s sparkled and crackled like shattered gla.s.s; the whole hillside tinkled and twinkled.... For a day, my beloved Provence was dressed up as a northern land. It was here, amongst these ice-fringed pines, and clumps of lavender in crystal bouquets, that I wrote both these Germanic-style fantasies, prompted by the white frost gleaming at me and great _V_'s of storks from Heinrich Heine's land made their way in a clear sky to the Camargue screaming, "It's cold ... it's cold ... it's cold."

I

DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN

The little Dauphin is sick; the truth is he's dying.... In every church in the Kingdom, the blessed Sacrament is displayed night and day, and huge candles burn all the time for the recovery of the royal Child. The roads around the old residence are miserable and silent, the clocks don't chime, and the coaches go at walking pace.... Around the palace, through the railings, the curious bourgeoisie are watching some gold-draped, potbellied Swiss who are talking, self-importantly, in the courtyards.

The whole castle is troubled.... Chamberlains, and major-domos, scurry up and down the marble stairways.... The galleries are filled with silk-clad pages, and courtesans flitting from group to group seeking some whisper of news.... On the grand stairs, the weeping ladies-in-waiting hold themselves respectfully, and delicately wipe their eyes with finely embroidered handkerchiefs.

In the orangery, there were numerous gatherings of enrobed doctors.

They can be seen through the windows adjusting their long, black sleeves and carefully rearranging their wigs.... The Dauphin's governor and his equerry are pacing about in front of the door, awaiting the doctors' prognostications. Some kitchen boys walk past them, without bowing. The equerry swears like a trooper; while the governor recites some verses by Horace.... Meanwhile, a long, plaintive whinny was heard from down in the stables. It was the young Dauphin's chestnut, now forgotten by its grooms, calling mournfully over its empty manger.

And the King? Where is His Majesty the King?... The King is all alone in a room, at the far side of the castle.... Royal Highnesses don't like to be seen crying.... It is another thing altogether with the Queen.... Sitting by the bedside of the little Dauphin, her beautiful face is bathed in tears, as she sobs out loud, in front of everybody, just as any commoner would.

In his lace-covered sick-bed, the little Dauphin, whiter than the cus.h.i.+ons he lies on, has his eyes closed and looks fast asleep. But he is not. The little Dauphin turns towards his mother and seeing her in tears, says:

--Madame, why are you crying? Do you really think that I am dying?

The queen tries to answer, but the sobbing chokes her words.

--Don't upset yourself, madame. You are forgetting that I am the Dauphin and Dauphins can't die just like that....

The Queen's sobs intensify and the little Dauphin begins to feel afraid.

--Hang on, he says, I don't want death to come and take me, and I know just how to stop him from getting to me.... Have forty very strong soldiers mount guard around my bed!... Have a hundred big cannons ready under our window, tapers lit and fuses primed, day and night! And it's hard luck death if he dares to come near me!...

To please the Royal child, the Queen gives the order. Soon, big cannons are heard rolling in the courtyard, and forty tall German mercenaries, halberds at the ready, come and position themselves around the bed chamber. The little Dauphin claps his hands when he sees the old soldiers and their grey moustaches. He recognises one of them and calls out:

--Lorrain! Lorrain!

The soldier steps forward towards the bed:

--I really do like you, my dear Lorrain.... Have you brought your big sword.... If death comes for me, you will be sure to kill him, won't you?

Lorrain replied:

--Yes, Sire....

And two big tears run slowly down his tanned cheeks.

Just then, the Chaplain comes towards the young Dauphin and whispers to him for some time, showing him a crucifix. The little Dauphin listens, and looks astounded, and then, suddenly stops him:

--I can understand what you are telling me, Monsieur priest, but couldn't my little friend, Beppo die in my place, for which service we could give him a lot of money?...

The Chaplain continues the whispering and the little Dauphin looks more and more astonished.

As soon as the Chaplain finishes, the little Dauphin gives a huge sigh and says:

--Everything you tell me is so sad, Monsieur Priest, but if there's one thing that consoles me, it's that up there amongst the stars in paradise, I will still be the Dauphin.... I am sure that the Good Lord is my cousin and won't forget to treat me according to my rank.

Then, turning towards his mother, he adds:

--Have my best clothes brought to me; my white ermine doublet and my velvet court shoes. I want to make myself nice for the angels and enter paradise dressed as a Dauphin should.

For a third time, the Chaplain leans towards the little Dauphin and whispers to him for some time.... In the middle of his discourse, the Royal child interrupts him angrily:

--Well then, he cries, it's completely pointless being the Dauphin!

The little Dauphin has heard enough, and he turns towards the wall sobbing bitterly.

II

THE SUB-PREFECT TAKES A DAY OFF.

The Sub-Prefect was on his rounds. He was being carried majestically in the official barouche, complete with coachman and lackey, to the Combe-aux-Fee's Regional selection meeting. The Sub-Prefect had put on his best embroidered clothes; his opera hat, his skin-tight silver striped breeches, and his dress-sword with mother of pearl handle for this important day.... He was looking ruefully down at his knees, on which lies a large, embossed-leather, briefcase.

The Sub-Prefect was thinking about the speech which he must soon give before the residents of Combe-aux-Fees:

--Gentlemen and const.i.tuents....

But he might just as well have twiddled with his blond whiskers and repeated it twenty times for all the good it did:

--Gentlemen and const.i.tuents.... But nothing more of the speech would come.

Nothing more of the speech would come.... It was getting really warm in the barouche!... Under the Midi sun, the road to Combe-aux-Fees s.h.i.+mmers until it fades into the distance.... The very air burns you ... and, at the roadside, thousands of cicadas are calling to each other, from one white, dust-covered elm to another.... Suddenly, the Sub-Prefect started. Down at the foot of a hill, he noticed a small wood of green oaks which seemed to beckon him.