The Bagpipers

by George Sand

"No, Tiennet," replied Brulette. "We must not even think of changing what was agreed upon. My grandfather promised for me, and I was bound to consent. If I could tell you—but I can't! One thing I want you to know; it is that money counts for nothing in the bargain, and that my grandfather and I will never accept a penny for a duty we are bound to perform."

"Now you do surprise me. Whose child is it? It must belong to some of your relatives,—consequently, mine."

"Possibly," she replied. "Some of our family live away from here. But consider that I have told you nothing, for I cannot and ought not to do so. Let people believe that the little monkey is a stranger to us, and that we are paid for the care of him. Otherwise, evil tongues might accuse those who don't deserve it."

"The devil!" said I. "If you haven't set me on thorns! I can't think—"

"That's just it," she said, "you are not to think; I forbid it,—though I am quite sure you never could find out."

"Very good! but do you really mean to wean yourself from all amusements, just as that child is weaned of the breast? The devil take your grandfather's promise!"

"My grandfather did right, and if I had gone against him I should have been a heartless girl. I repeat, I don't choose to do things by halves, even if I die of it."

Brulette was resolute. From that day such a change came over her that she was scarcely recognizable. She never left the house except to pasture her sheep and her goats with Charlot beside her; and when she had put him to bed for the night she would take her work and sit near him. She went to none of the dances, and bought no more finery, having no longer any occasion for it. This dull life made her serious and even sad, for she soon found herself neglected. There is no girl so pretty but what she is forced to be amiable with everybody if she wants to have followers; and Brulette, who now showed no desire to please, was called sullen, all the more because she had once been so much the reverse. In my opinion she had only changed for the better, for, having never played the coquette, only my lady the princess with me, she seemed to my mind more gentle in manner, more sensible and interesting in her behavior; but others didn't think so. In the past she had allowed her lovers just so much hope as now made each of them feel affronted by her neglect, as if he considered he had a right to her; and although her coquetry had always been very harmless she was punished for it as if it were a wrong done to others; which proves, as I think, that men have as much, if not more, vanity than women, and consider that no one ever does enough to please or pacify the conceit they have of themselves.

There is one thing certain at least, and that is that many persons are very unjust,—even young men who seem such good fellows and such willing slaves as long as they are in love. Many of Brulette's old admirers now turned against her, and more than once I had words with them in defending my cousin from the blame they put upon her. Unfortunately, they were encouraged by the gossips and the selfish folk who were jealous of Père Brulet's supposed bit of luck; until finally Brulette was obliged to refuse to see these maliciously inquisitive people, and even the false friends who came and repeated to her what they had heard others say.

This is how it was that in less than one year the queen of the village, the Rose of Nohant, was condemned by evil minds and abandoned by fools. They told dark stories about her, and I shuddered lest she should hear them; indeed, I myself was often harassed and puzzled how to answer them. The worst lie of all was one Père Brulet ought to have expected, namely, that Charlot was neither some poor foundling nor the son of a prince, brought up secretly, but really Brulette's own child. In vain I pointed out that the girl had always lived openly under the eyes of everybody; and having never encouraged any particular lover she could not have committed a fault so difficult to hide. They answered that such and such a one had boldly concealed her condition till the very last day, and had reappeared, sometimes the day after, as composed and lively as if nothing had happened, and had even hidden the consequences until she was married to the author, or the dupe, of her sin. Unfortunately, this had happened more than once in our village. In these little country places, where the houses are surrounded by gardens, and separated from each other by hemp and lucern fields, some of them of great extent, it is not easy to see and hear from one to another at all hours of the night, and, indeed, things are done at any time which the good God alone takes account of.