Jeanne and her father, the baron, took supper together. They were in
perfect sympathy with each other. Later, seized with a childish joy,
they started on a tour of inspection through the restored manor. It
was one of those high and vast Norman residences that comprise both
farmhouse and castle, built of white stone which had turned gray,
large enough to contain a whole race of people.
An immense hall divided the house from front to rear and a staircase
went up at either side of the entrance, meeting in a bridge on the
first floor. The huge drawing-room was on the ground floor to the
right and was hung with tapestries representing birds and foliage. All
the furniture was covered with fine needlework tapestry illustrating
La Fontaine's fables, and Jeanne was delighted at finding a chair she
had loved as a child, which pictured the story of "The Fox and the
Stork."
Beside the drawing-room were the library, full of old books, and two
unused rooms; at the left was the dining-room, the laundry, the
kitchen, etc.
A corridor divided the whole first floor, the doors of ten rooms
opening into it. At the end, on the right, was Jeanne's room. She and
her father went in. He had had it all newly done over, using the
furniture and draperies that had been in the storeroom.
There were some very old Flemish tapestries, with their peculiar
looking figures. At sight of her bed, the young girl uttered a scream
of joy. Four large birds carved in oak, black from age and highly
polished, bore up the bed and seemed to be its protectors. On the
sides were carved two wide garlands of flowers and fruit, and four
finely fluted columns, terminating in Corinthian capitals, supported a
cornice of cupids with roses intertwined. The tester and the coverlet
were of antique blue silk, embroidered in gold fleur de lys. When
Jeanne had sufficiently admired it, she lifted up the candle to
examine the tapestries and the allegories they represented. They were
mostly conventional subjects, but the last hanging represented a
drama. Near a rabbit, which was still nibbling, a young man lay
stretched out, apparently dead. A young girl, gazing at him, was
plunging a sword into her bosom, and the fruit of the tree had turned
black. Jeanne gave up trying to divine the meaning underlying this
picture, when she saw in the corner a tiny little animal which the
rabbit, had he lived, could have swallowed like a blade of grass; and
yet it was a lion. Then she recognized the story of "Pyramus and
Thisbe," and though she smiled at the simplicity of the design, she
felt happy to have in her room this love adventure which would
continually speak to her of her cherished hopes, and every night this
legendary love would hover about her dreams.
It struck eleven and the baron kissed Jeanne goodnight and retired to
his room. Before retiring, Jeanne cast a last glance round her room
and then regretfully extinguished the candle. Through her window she
could see the bright moonlight bathing the trees and the wonderful
landscape. Presently she arose, opened a window and looked out. The
night was so clear that one could see as plainly as by daylight. She
looked across the park with its two long avenues of very tall poplars
that gave its name to the château and separated it from the two farms
that belonged to it, one occupied by the Couillard family, the other
by the Martins. Beyond the enclosure stretched a long, uncultivated
plain, thickly overgrown with rushes, where the breeze whistled day
and night. The land ended abruptly in a steep white cliff three
hundred feet high, with its base in the ocean waves.
Jeanne looked out over the long, undulating surface that seemed to
slumber beneath the heavens. All the fragrance of the earth was in the
night air. The odor of jasmine rose from the lower windows, and light
whiffs of briny air and of seaweed were wafted from the ocean.
Merely to breathe was enough for Jeanne, and the restful calm of the
country was like a soothing bath. She felt as though her heart was
expanding and she began dreaming of love. What was it? She did not
know. She only knew that she would adore him with all her soul
and that he would cherish her with all his strength. They would walk
hand in hand on nights like this, hearing the beating of their hearts,
mingling their love with the sweet simplicity of the summer nights in
such close communion of thought that by the sole power of their
tenderness they would easily penetrate each other's most secret
thoughts. This would continue forever in the calm of an enduring
affection. It seemed to her that she felt him there beside her.
And an unusual sensation came over her. She remained long musing thus,
when suddenly she thought she heard a footstep behind the house. "If
it were he." But it passed on and she felt as if she had been
deceived. The air became cooler. The day broke. Slowly bursting aside
the gleaming clouds, touching with fire the trees, the plains, the
ocean, all the horizon, the great flaming orb of the sun appeared.
Jeanne felt herself becoming mad with happiness. A delirious joy,
an infinite tenderness at the splendor of nature overcame her
fluttering heart. It was her sun, her dawn! The beginning
of her life! Thoroughly fatigued at last, she flung herself down
and slept till her father called her at eight o'clock. He walked into
the room and proposed to show her the improvements of the castle, of
her castle. The road, called the parish road, connecting the
farms, joined the high road between Havre and Fécamp, a mile and a
half further on.
Jeanne and the baron inspected everything and returned home for
breakfast. When the meal was over, as the baroness had decided that
she would rest, the baron proposed to Jeanne that they should go down
to Yport. They started, and passing through the hamlet of Etouvent,
where the poplars were, and going through the wooded slope by a
winding valley leading down to the sea, they presently perceived the
village of Yport. Women sat in their doorways mending linen; brown
fish-nets were hanging against the doors of the huts, where an entire
family lived in one room. It was a typical little French fishing
village, with all its concomitant odors. To Jeanne it was all like a
scene in a play. On turning a corner they saw before them the
limitless blue ocean. They bought a brill from a fisherman and another
sailor offered to take them out sailing, repeating his name,
"Lastique, Joséphin Lastique," several times, that they might not
forget it, and the baron promised to remember. They walked home,
chattering like two children, carrying the big fish between them,
Jeanne having pushed her father's walking cane through its gills.