Popular Tales

by Madame Guizot

The wind became more violent, the sleet increased, and a heavy fall of snow began to mingle with it: Madame De Vesac and her daughter went over to the side where the carriage offered some defence against the rain and snow which were beating into their faces; but this shelter did not long suffice, the gusts of wind became so violent, that Cecilia was twice on the point of losing her hat, notwithstanding the ribbons by which it was confined. It was with difficulty that they kept their shawls around them; the snow assailed them on all sides, melting upon them, and penetrating their clothes; and they were benumbed by a damp coldness, from which their inability to move left them no means of escape. Cecilia did not think of complaining, for no one could have assisted her; besides, she could not doubt that her mother suffered as much as herself, and complaints are seldom made except to excite the pity of those who seem better off than we are, and who, therefore, are able to think of us rather than of themselves. Cecilia now discovered how erroneous it is to suppose that any comfort is to be derived from complaining: perhaps even she suffered less from her position, than she would have done had she lamented it; but she did not make this reflection, and it was natural that the necessity of the case should render her more courageous.

Madame de Vesac, however, fearing lest her daughter should become ill, from the cold and damp which had penetrated her clothes, proposed to her to seek shelter in a wood which extended on both sides of the road, and the trees of which, though divested of their leaves, were at least sufficiently close to break the violence of the wind and snow; but this wood was the principal object of Cecilia's dread. Terrified at the proposition, she could only utter the words, "Oh! mamma, to go into the wood!"

"Just as you like, my child," said Madame de Vesac, "but," she added, smiling, "who do you think would come after us in such weather as this? You may be quite sure there is nobody abroad but ourselves."

Cecilia made no reply, her thoughts terrified her to such a degree that she dared not utter them, and had she pronounced the word robbers, it would have seemed to her that she was calling them; but at that moment there came a gust so violent, that the carriage appeared shaken by it; one of the blinds which happened to be down, was so violently agitated that the cords snapped, and being no longer upheld it was lifted by the wind, and struck Cecilia on the head. Seized with terror she sprang from her place; the storm continued, she was unable to resist it, yet dared not return to the carriage. Completely bewildered by the wind, she neither knew where she was, nor what she did: and her mother taking her by the arm led her into the wood, where she recovered a little of her self-possession. Here the wind was much less violent, and as always happens when we look at things closely, Cecilia having entered the wood felt much less terrified, than while merely considering it from the road. A copse where there happened to be a few trees, which still retained their leaves, although it was the month of December, had protected a few feet of ground from the snow, and afforded the travellers a shelter from the wet. The double trunk of a tree furnished them with a support, and they were at least in a situation where they could await without excessive discomfort the assistance which could not be far distant, when all at once Cecilia, whose eyes were turned towards the copse, probably seeing the branches agitated by the wind, fancied she perceived a figure moving and advancing towards them. Completely bewildered by fright she seized her mother's arm, and without saying a word dragged her on, as quickly as she was able, through the bushes, plunging deeper into the wood to avoid the terrible objects by which she believed herself pursued. Her mother, astonished, after having followed her for a few steps endeavoured to stop her. "Where are you going?" she said. "What is the matter?" But Cecilia, whose terror was only increased by the sound of her mother's voice, because she was afraid of its having been heard, continued to drag her along with an extraordinary degree of strength, and her mother, who would not leave her, was obliged to follow. At length, by dint of talking she recalled her to herself; she stopped a moment and said in a low tremulous voice, "Did you see him?"—"Who?" demanded Madame de Vesac.—"Among the trees ... a man...." "I have seen no one, you were mistaken, I assure you."—"Oh! I still hear him...." And she was once more on the point of starting off, but her mother restrained her. "My dear Cecilia," she said, greatly distressed at her condition; "my dear child, be reasonable, take courage; there is no one there, I assure you there is nothing to fear; confide in me who would not lead you into danger, and whose judgment is calmer than yours." A little restored by her mother's words, and the affectionate tone in which they were uttered, Cecilia, ashamed of her fears, stopped, and restored her mother's arm, which she still held, to its former position under her shawl.—"Let us retrace our steps," said Madame de Vesac, "lest we lose our way." Cecilia did not dare to say anything, but she shuddered at the idea of again passing so near the copse. At this moment they heard some one call them, and recognized the voice of Comtois. Cecilia breathed more freely, and hastened to reply; but Comtois had entered the wood at another part, and they stood still to discover whence the voice proceeded.

"It is in that direction, mamma," said Cecilia, who, delighted at the thought of avoiding the copse, pointed to a road a little more to the right than the one they were on the point of taking. Madame de Vesac listened again, and the voice which still continued to call and answer, seeming, in fact, to proceed from the right, she took the direction indicated by Cecilia, and calling from time to time to Comtois, they walked on towards the spot whence the sound was still heard to proceed, but it seemed sometimes to approach, and sometimes to recede, for it appeared that Comtois altered his course according to the place where he thought they must be, and they themselves took first one direction and then another, without being quite sure which was the right. This state of uncertainty lasted for some minutes, but at length the voice sensibly approached, and they heard steps through the trees. "Is that you, Comtois?" It was he, and Cecilia in a transport of joy was ready to throw her arms round his neck; she forgot the cold, the sleet, and the wind; once freed from her former terror she now thought all her troubles were at an end. Comtois informed them that he had procured assistance, and that at that moment the men were engaged in raising the carriage, to which he was going to conduct them. But the question now was how to find the way, for, intent only on reaching each other, neither Comtois nor Madame de Vesac had thought of observing their route. They stopped to listen for some indication from the people at the carriage, but the wind bore the sounds another way, or when they did reach them, they were so faint and uncertain, that they concluded they must have advanced further into the wood than they had supposed. However, they directed their course towards the side on which they concluded the high road lay, listening every moment to discover whether the sounds increased in strength; sometimes Cecilia fancied she heard voices, and even maintained that she could distinguish that of the postilion: at other times hearing nothing she became uneasy, but the joy of having found Comtois sustained her courage. At length she exclaimed, "Mamma, I see an opening through the trees; that must be the road." Madame de Vesac looked, and perceived, indeed, a spot where the trees appeared to separate, but she did not think it was the high road, and was astonished at not hearing any noise. Cecilia made her hasten her steps, repeating, as she hurried her on, "There's the road, there's the road!" Her mother cautioned her not to rejoice too soon; but she did not listen to her, and was the first to reach a spot, open indeed, but so surrounded by the wood on all sides, that it afforded no means of egress, except by a path almost parallel to the one they had just left. She stood petrified.

"This is not the road," said Madame de Vesac.

"Indeed," said Comtois, "I don't know where we are now."

"What will become of us?" inquired Cecilia in a timid and anxious voice, but without those exclamations so habitual to her, for in the present moment of real fear and trouble her thoughts were more occupied with the situation itself, than with the desire of vividly displaying what she felt.

"We must endeavour to get out of this place," replied Madame de Vesac. "The road cannot be far off; but we must take a different direction from the one we have come by."