"Oh yes; very happy. I have been very happy. I have never regretted anything."
Well, I also had gone last year to visit this woman, this couple, as one goes to gaze at some miraculous relic.
I had contemplated with surprise, sadness, and even a little disgust, this woman who had followed this man, this rustic Adonis, attracted by his hussar uniform, and who had continued to see him under his peasant's rags, with the blue dolman slung over his back, sword at his side, and the high boot with clanking spur.
She had, however, become a peasant herself. In the depths of this wilderness, she had become perfectly accustomed to this life without luxuries, without charm, or delicacy of any sort, she had adapted herself to these simple manners. And she loved him still. She had become a woman of the people, in cap and coarse petticoat. Seated on a straw-bottomed chair at a wooden table, she eat a mess of cabbage, potatoes and bacon from an earthenware plate. She slept on a straw mattress beside him.
She had never thought of anything but him! She had regretted neither ornaments, nor silks, nor elegance, nor soft chairs, nor the perfumed warmth of well-curtained rooms, nor repose in a comfortable bed. She had never needed anything but him! As long as he was there, she had wanted nothing else!
She was quite young when she abandoned life, the world, and those who had brought her up and loved her. Alone with him she had come to this savage ravine. And he had been everything to her, everything that could be longed for, dreamt of, expected, ceaselessly hoped for. He had filled her life with happiness from one end to another. She could not have been happier.
Now I was going for the second time to see her again, filled with the surprise, and the vague contempt, with which she inspired me.
She lived near the Hyères road, on the opposite slope of the mountain on which stands the Chartreuse de la Verne; and another carriage was awaiting me on this road, for the deep track we had followed, had now ceased and become a mere footpath, only accessible to pedestrians and mules.
I started therefore alone, on foot, and with slow steps to climb the mountains. I was in a delightful wood, a real Corsican thicket, a fairy tale wood composed of flowering creepers, aromatic plants with powerful scents, and huge magnificent trees.