Abbe Mouret's Transgression: Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A week later there was another expedition to the park. They had planned
to extend their rambles beyond the orchard, striking out to the left
through the meadows watered by the four streams. They would travel
several miles over the thick grass, and they might live on fish, if they
happened to lose themselves.

'I will take my knife,' said Albine, holding up a broad-bladed peasant's
knife.

She crammed all kinds of things into her pockets, string, bread,
matches, a small bottle of wine, some rags, a comb, and some needles.
Serge took a rug, but by the time they had passed the lime-trees and
reached the ruins of the chateau, he found it such an encumbrance that
he hid it beneath a piece of fallen wall.

The sun was hotter than before, Albine had delayed their departure by
her extensive preparations. Thus in the heat of the morning they stepped
along side by side, almost quietly. They actually managed to take twenty
paces at a time without pushing one another or laughing. They began to
talk.

'I never can wake up,' began Albine. 'I slept so soundly last night. Did
you?'

'Yes, indeed, very soundly,' replied Serge.

'What does it mean when you dream of a bird that talks to you?' the girl
resumed.

'I don't know. What did your bird say to you?'

'Oh, I have forgotten. But it said all kinds of things, and many of them
sounded very comical. Stop, look at that big poppy over there. You
sha'n't get it, you sha'n't get it!'

And then she sprang forward; but Serge, thanks to his long legs,
outstripped her and plucked the poppy, which he waved about
victoriously. She stood there with lips compressed, saying nothing, but
feeling a strong inclination to cry. Serge threw down the flower.
Nothing else occurred to him. Then, to make his peace with her, he
asked: 'Would you like me to carry you as I did the other day?'

'No, no.'

She pouted a little, but she had not gone another thirty steps, when she
turned round smiling. A bramble had caught hold of her dress.

'I thought it was you who were treading on my dress purposely. It won't
let me go. Come and unfasten me.'

When she was released, they walked on again, side by side, very quietly.
Albine pretended that it was much more amusing to stroll along in this
fashion, like steady grown-up folks. They had just reached the meadows.
Far away, in front of them, stretched grassy expanses scarce broken here
and there by the tender foliage of willows. The grass looked soft and
downy, like velvet. It was a deep green, subsiding in the distance into
lighter tints, and on the horizon assuming a bright yellow glow beneath
the flaring sun. The clumps of willows right over yonder seemed like
pure gold, bathed in the tremulous brilliance of the sunshine. Dancing
dust tipped the blades of grass with quivering light, and as the gentle
breezes swept over the free expanse, moire-like reflections appeared on
the caressed and quivering herbage. In the nearer fields a multitude of
little white daisies, now in swarms, now straggling, and now in groups,
like holiday makers at some public rejoicing, brightly peopled the dark
grass. Buttercups showed themselves, gay like little brass bells which
the touch of a fly's wing would set tinkling. Here and there big lonely
poppies raised fiery cups, and others, gathered together further away,
spread out like vats purple with lees of wine. Big cornflowers balanced
aloft their light blue caps which looked as if they would fly away at
every breath of air. Then under foot there were patches of woolly
feather-grass and fragrant meadow-sweet, sheets of fescue, dog's-tail,
creeping-bent, and meadow grass. Sainfoin reared its long fine
filaments; clover unfurled its clear green leaves, plantains brandished
forests of spears, lucerne spread out in soft beds of green satin
broidered with purple flowers. And all these were seen, to right, to
left, in front, everywhere, rolling over the level soil, showing like
the mossy surface of a stagnant sea, asleep beneath the sky which ever
seemed to expand. Here and there, in the vast expanse, the vegetation
was of a limpid blue, as though it reflected the colour of the heavens.

Albine and Serge stepped along over the meadow-lands, with the grass
reaching to their knees. It was like wading through a pool. Now and
then, indeed, they found themselves caught by a current in which a
stream of bending stalks seemed to flow away between their legs. Then
there were placid-looking, slumbering lakes, basins of short grass,
which scarcely reached their ankles. As they walked along together,
their joy found expression not in wild gambols, as in the orchard a week
before, but rather in loitering, with their feet caught among the supple
arms of the herbage, tasting as it were the caresses of a pure stream
which calmed the exuberance of their youth. Albine turned aside and
slipped into a lofty patch of vegetation which reached to her chin. Only
her head appeared. For a moment or two she stood there in silence. Then
she called to Serge: 'Come here, it is just like a bath. It is as if one
had green water all over one.'

Then she gave a jump and scampered off without waiting for him, and they
both walked along the margin of the first stream which barred their
onward course. It was a shallow tranquil brook between banks of wild
cress. It flowed on so placidly and gently that its surface reflected
like a mirror the smallest reed that grew beside it. Albine and Serge
followed this stream, whose onward motion was slower than their own, for
a long time before they came across a tree that flung a long shadow upon
the idle waters. As far as their eyes could reach they saw the bare
brook stretch out and slumber in the sunlight like a blue serpent half
uncoiled. At last they reached a clump of three willows. Two had their
roots in the stream; the third was set a little backward. Their trunks,
rotten and crumbling with age, were crowned with the bright foliage of
youth. The shadow they cast was so slight as scarcely to be perceptible
upon the sunlit bank. Yet here the water, which, both above and below,
was so unruffled, showed a transient quiver, a rippling of its surface,
as though it were surprised to find even this light veil cast over it.
Between the three willows the meadow-land sloped down to the stream, and
some crimson poppies had sprung up in the crevices of the decaying old
trunks. The foliage of the willows looked like a tent of greenery fixed
upon three stakes by the water's edge, beside a rolling prairie.

'This is the place,' cried Albine, 'this is the place;' and she glided
beneath the willows.

Serge sat down by her side, his feet almost in the water. He glanced
round him, and murmured: 'You know everything, you know all the best
spots. One might almost think this was an island, ten feet square, right
in the middle of the sea.'

'Yes, indeed, we are quite at home,' she replied, as she gleefully
drummed the grass with her fists. 'It is altogether our own, and we are
going to do everything ourselves.' Then, as if struck by a brilliant
idea, she sprang towards him, and, with her face close to his, asked him
joyously: 'Will you be my husband? I will be your wife.'

He was delighted at the notion, and replied that he would gladly be her
husband, laughing even more loudly than she had done herself. Then
Albine suddenly became grave, and assumed the anxious air of a
housewife.

'You know,' she said, 'that it is I who will have to give the orders. We
will have breakfast as soon as you have laid the table.'

She gave him her orders in an imperious fashion. He had to stow all the
various articles which she extracted from her pockets into a hole in one
of the willows, which bole she called the cupboard. The rags supplied
the household linen, while the comb represented the toilette
necessaries. The needles and string were to be used for mending the
explorers' clothes. Provision for the inner man consisted of the little
bottle of wine and a few crusts which she had saved from yesterday. She
had, to be sure, some matches, by the aid of which she intended to cook
the fish they were going to catch.

When Serge had finished laying the table, the bottle of wine in the
centre, and three crusts grouped round it, he hazarded the observation
that the fare seemed to be scanty. But Albine shrugged her shoulders
with feminine superiority. And wading into the water, she said in a
severe tone, 'I will catch the fish; you can watch me.'

For half an hour she strenuously exerted herself in trying to catch some
of the little fishes with her hands. She had gathered up her petticoats
and fastened them together with a piece of string. And she advanced
quietly into the water, taking the greatest care not to disturb it. When
she was quite close to some tiny fish, that lay lurking between a couple
of pebbles, she thrust down her bare arm, made a wild grasp, and brought
her hand up again with nothing in it but sand and gravel. Serge then
broke out into noisy laughter which brought her back to the bank,
indignant. She told him that he had no business to laugh at her.

'But,' he ended by asking, 'how are we going to cook your fish when you
have caught it? There is no wood about.'

That put the finishing touch to her discouragement. However, the fish in
that stream didn't seem to be good for much; so she came out of the
water and ran through the long grass to get her feet dry.

'See,' she suddenly exclaimed, 'here is some pimpernel. It is very nice.
Now we shall have a feast.'

Serge was ordered to gather a quantity of the pimpernel and place it on
the table. They ate it with their crusts. Albine declared that it was
much better than nuts. She assumed the position of mistress of the
establishment, and cut Serge's bread for him, for she would not trust
him with the knife. At last she made him store away in the 'cupboard'
the few drops of wine that remained at the bottom of the bottle. He was
also ordered to sweep the grass. Then Albine lay down at full length.

'We are going to sleep now, you know. You must lie down by my side.'

He did as he was ordered. They lay there stiffly staring into the air,
and saying that they were asleep, and that it was very nice. After a
while, however, they drew slightly away from one another, averting their
heads as if they felt some discomfort. And at last breaking the silence
which had fallen between them, Serge exclaimed: 'I love you very much.'

It was love such as it is without any sensual feeling; that instinctive
love which wakens in the bosom of a little man ten years old at the
sight of some white-robed baby-girl. The meadow-lands, spreading around
them all open and free, dissipated the slight fear each felt of the
other. They knew that they lay there, seen of all the herbage, that the
blue sky looked down upon them through the light foliage of the willows,
and the thought was pleasant to them. The willow canopy over their heads
was a mere open screen. The shade it cast was so imperceptible that it
wafted to them none of the languor that some dim coppice might have
done. From the far-off horizon came a healthy breeze fraught with all
the freshness of the grassy sea, swelling here and there into waves of
flowers; while, at their feet, the stream, childlike as they were,
flowed idly along with a gentle babbling that sounded to them like the
laughter of a companion. Ah! happy solitude, so tranquil and placid,
immensity wherein the little patch of grass serving as their couch took
the semblance of an infant's cradle.

'There, that's enough; said Albine, getting up; 'we've rested long
enough.'

Serge seemed a little surprised at this speedy termination of their
sleep. He stretched out his arm and caught hold of Albine, as though to
draw her near him again; and when she, laughing, dropped upon her knees
he grasped her elbows and gazed up at her. He knew not to what impulse
he was yielding. But when she had freed herself, and again had risen to
her feet, he buried his face amongst the grass where she had lain, and
which still retained the warmth of her body.

'Yes,' he said at last, 'it is time to get up,' and then he rose from
the ground.

They scoured the meadow-lands until evening began to fall. They went on
and on, inspecting their garden. Albine walked in front, sniffing like a
young dog, and saying nothing, but she was ever in search of the happy
glade, although where they found themselves there were none of the big
trees of which her thoughts were full. Serge meanwhile indulged in all
kinds of clumsy gallantry. He rushed forward so hastily to thrust the
tall herbage aside, that he nearly tripped her up; and he almost tore
her arm from her body as he tried to assist her over the brooks. Their
joy was great when they came to the three other streams. The first
flowed over a bed of pebbles, between two rows of willows, so closely
planted that they had to grope between the branches with the risk of
falling into some deep part of the water. It only rose to Serge's knees,
however, and having caught Albine in his arms he carried her to the
opposite bank, to save her from a wetting. The next stream flowed black
with shade beneath a lofty canopy of foliage, passing languidly onward
with the gentle rustling and rippling of the satin train of some lady,
dreamily sauntering through the woodland depths. It was a deep, cold,
and rather dangerous-looking stream, but a fallen tree that stretched
from bank to bank served them as a bridge. They crossed over, bestriding
the tree with dangling feet, at first amusing themselves by stirring the
water which looked like a mirror of burnished steel, but then suddenly
hastening, frightened by the strange eyes which opened in the depths of
the sleepy current at the slightest splash. But it was the last stream
which delayed them the most. It was sportive like themselves, it flowed
more slowly at certain bends, whence it started off again with merry
ripples, past piles of big stones, into the shelter of some clump of
trees, and grew calmer once more. It exhibited every humour as it sped
along over soft sand or rocky boulders, over sparkling pebbles or greasy
clay, where leaping frogs made yellow puddles. Albine and Serge dabbled
about in delight, and even walked homewards through the stream in
preference to remaining on the bank. At every little island that divided
the current they landed. They conquered the savage spot or rested
beneath the lofty canes and reeds, which seemed to grow there expressly
as shelter for shipwrecked adventurers. Thus they made a delightful
progress, amused by the changing scenery of the banks, enlivened by the
merry humour of the living current.

But when they were about to leave the river, Serge realised that Albine
was still seeking something along the banks, on the island, even among
the plants that slept on the surface of the water. He was obliged to go
and pull her from the midst of a patch of water-lilies whose broad
leaves set _collerettes_ around her limbs. He said nothing, but shook
his finger at her. And at last they went home, walking along, arm in
arm, like young people after a day's outing. They looked at each other,
and thought one another handsomer and stronger than before, and of a
certainty their laughter had a different ring from that with which it
had sounded in the morning.

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