This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
A WOODLAND QUEEN
('Reine des Bois')
By ANDRE THEURIET
Winter had come, and with it all the inclement accompaniments usual inthis bleak and bitter mountainous country: icy rains, which, mingled withsleet, washed away whirlpools of withered leaves that the swollen streamstossed noisily into the ravines; sharp, cutting winds from the north,bleak frosts hardening the earth and vitrifying the cascades; abundantfalls of snow, lasting sometimes an entire week. The roads had becomeimpassable. A thick, white crust covered alike the pasture-lands, thestony levels, and the wooded slopes, where the branches creaked under theweight of their snowy burdens. A profound silence encircled the village,which seemed buried under the successive layers of snowdrifts. Only hereand there, occasionally, did a thin line of blue smoke, rising from oneof the white roofs, give evidence of any latent life among theinhabitants. The Chateau de Buxieres stood in the midst of a vast carpetof snow on which the sabots of the villagers had outlined a narrow path,leading from the outer steps to the iron gate. Inside, fires blazed onall the hearths, which, however, did not modify the frigid atmosphere ofthe rudely-built upper rooms.
Julien de Buxieres was freezing, both physically and morally, in hisabode. His generous conduct toward Claudet had, in truth, gained him theaffection of the 'grand chasserot', made Manette as gentle as a lamb,and caused a revulsion of feeling in his favor throughout the village;but, although his material surroundings had become more congenial, hestill felt around him the chill of intellectual solitude. The days alsoseemed longer since Claudet had taken upon himself the management of alldetails. Julien found that re-reading his favorite books was notsufficient occupation for the weary hours that dragged slowly alongbetween the rising and the setting of the sun. The gossipings ofManette, the hunting stories of Claudet had no interest for youngde Buxieres, and the acquaintances he endeavored to make outside leftonly a depressing feeling of ennui and disenchantment.
His first visit had been made to the cure of Vivey, where he hoped tomeet with some intellectual resources, and a tone of conversation more inharmony with his tastes. In this expectation, also, he had beendisappointed. The Abbe Pernot was an amiable quinquagenarian, and a'bon vivant', whose mind inclined more naturally toward the duties ofdaily life than toward meditation or contemplative studies. The idealdid not worry him in the least; and when he had said his mass, read hisbreviary, confessed the devout sinners and visited the sick, he gave therest of his time to profane but respectable amusements. He was of robusttemperament, with a tendency to corpulency, which he fought against bytaking considerable exercise; his face was round and good-natured, hiscalm gray eyes reflected the tranquillity and uprightness of his soul,and his genial nature was shown in his full smiling mouth, his thick,wavy, gray hair, and his quick and cordial gestures.
When Julien was ushered into the presbytery, he found the cure installedin a small room, which he used for working in, and which was littered upwith articles bearing a very distant connection to his pious calling