the dutchman, named janssen, led croniamantal to the region of aix, where there was a house which the people of the neighborhood called le chateau. le chateau had nothing lordly about it other than its name and was nothing but a vast domicile having a dairy and a stable.
mr. janssen possessed a modest income and lived alone in this dwelling which he had bought in order to live in solitude, a suddenly broken off betrothal having rendered him rather hypochondriac. he devoted all his energies now to the education of the son of macarée and vierselin tigoboth: croniamantal, heir of the old name of des ygrées.
the dutchman, janssen, had travelled much. he spoke all the languages of europe, arabian, and turkish, not to mention hebrew and other dead languages. his speech was as clear as his blue eyes. he soon made the friendship of several scholars of aix whom he would visit from time to time and he corresponded with many foreign scientists.
when croniamantal was six years of age, mr. janssen would often take him to the country. croniamantal came to love these lessons along the paths of wooded hills. mr. janssen would often stop and show croniamantal the birds hopping about or butterflies pursuing each other and fluttering together among the wild rose-bushes. he would say that love reigned over all of nature. they would also go out on moonlit nights and the master would explain to his pupil the hidden destinies of the heavenly bodies, their regular course, and their effects upon the life of man.
croniamantal never forgot how one moonlit night his master led him to a field at the edge of a forest; the grass bubbled with milky light. fireflies fluttered around them; their phosphorescent and jagged lights gave the site a strange aspect. the master called the attention of his disciple to the sweetness of this may night.
"learn," he said, "learn to know all of nature and to love her. let her be your veritable nurse, whose salutary mammals are the moon and the hills."
croniamantal was thirteen years of age at this time and his mind was quite ripe. he listened attentively to mr. janssen's words.
"i have always lived in her, but i must say, lived badly, for one should not live without human love as companion. do not forget that all is a sign of love in nature. i, alas! am damned for not having observed this law whose demands nothing can withstand."
"what," said croniamantal, "you, my teacher, who know so many sciences did not recognize this law which every country lout and even the animals, the vegetables, and inert matter observe?"
"happy child who at your age can put such questions!" said mr. janssen. "i have always known that law, from which no human being should rebel. but there are some luckless men destined never to know the joys of love. that often happens to poets and scientists. their souls are vagabond; i am always conscious of existences preceding my own. this knowledge has never stirred any but the sterile bodies of scientists. (you should not be astonished in the least at what i say.) whole races respect animals and proclaim the principle of metempsychosis, a most worthy belief, self-evident but fantastical, since it takes no account of lost forms and of their inevitable dispersion. their worship should have extended to the vegetable kingdom and to minerals. for what is the dust of roads but the ashes of the dead? it is true that the ancients did not concede life to inert matter. but rabbis believed that the same soul inhabited the body of adam, moses and david. in fact, the name, adam, is composed in hebrew of the letters aleph, daleth and mem, the first letters of the three names. your soul like mine, inhabited other human forms, other animals, or was dispersed and will continue so after your death, since all things must serve again. for perhaps there is nothing new any more, and creation has ceased, perhaps... i affirm that i have not desired love, but i swear that i would not begin such a life over again. i have mortified my flesh and suffered severe punishment. i should like your life to be happy."
croniamantal's master made him devote most of his time to the sciences, keeping him au courant with all recent inventions. he also instructed the boy in latin and greek. they often read the eclogues of virgil or translated theocritus in an olive grove. croniamantal had learned a very pure french, but his master taught him in latin. he also taught him italian, and at an early age croniamantal received the poems of petrarch, who became one of his favorite poets. mr. janssen also taught croniamantal english, and made him familiar with shakespeare. above all he gave the boy a taste for old french authors. among the french poets he admired chiefly villon, ronsard and his pléiade, racine and la fontaine. he also made him read translations of cervantes and of goethe. on his advice, croniamantal read the romances of chivalry which might have made part of the library of don quixote. they developed in croniamantal an unquenchable thirst for experiment and perilous love adventures; he devoted himself to fencing and to horseback riding; at the age of fifteen he declared to anyone who came to visit them that he had decided to become a celebrated and peerless cavalier, and already he dreamed of a mistress.
croniamantal was, at this time, a handsome youth, thin and straight. the girls at the village fêtes, when he touched them lightly, would stifle little bursts of laughter and redden, lowering their eyes under his regard. habituated to poetic forms, his mind thought of love as a conquest. thoughts of boccacio, his natural daring, his education, everything disposed him to take the final step.
one may day, he went out for a long ride. it was morning, everything was still fresh. the dew hung from the flowers of the hedges, and on either side of the road stretched the fields of olive trees whose gray leaves trembled gently in the sea breeze and compared agreeably with the blue sky. he arrived at a place where the road was being mended. the road menders, handsome boys in bright colored caps, worked lazily, singing the while, and stopping occasionally to drink from their flasks. croniamantal thought that these handsome fellows had sweethearts. it is thus that they call a lover in that country. the boys say "my sweetheart," the girls, "my sweetheart," and in fact they are both sweet in that lovely country. croniamantal's heart leaped and his whole being, exalted by the springtime and the riding, cried for love.
at a turn in the road, an apparition increased his trouble. he arrived close to a little bridge thrown across a river which cut the road. the place was isolated, and across the hedges and the trunks of poplars, he saw two beautiful girls bathing, quite naked. one was in the water and held herself up by a branch. he admired her brown arms and abundant beauties, hardly concealed by the water. the other, standing on the bank, dried herself after her bath and exposed ravishing lines and graces which inflamed the heart of croniamantal; he decided to join them and mingle in their pleasures. unluckily, he perceived in the branches of a neighboring tree two youths spying on this prey. holding their breath and watching the least movements of the bathers, they did not see the equestrian, who, laughing uproariously, threw his horse into a gallop and cried aloud as he crossed the little bridge.
the sun had risen almost to its zenith and was now darting its dreadful rays. an ardent thirst added itself to the amorous inquietudes of croniamantal. the sight of a farm along the road brought him unspeakable joy. he arrived at a little orchard whose blossoming trees made a lovely sight. it was a little wood, rose and white with the cherry and peach blossoms. on the fence linen was drying and he had the pleasure of seeing a charming peasant girl of about sixteen, at work washing clothes in a vat in the shadow of a fig-tree that had just begun to bloom. not having noticed his arrival, she continued to accomplish her domestic function which he found noble; for, his imagination full of memories of antiquity, he compared her to nausica. descending from his horse he approached and contemplated the young girl with ravishment. he looked at her back. her folded up skirt discovered a well made leg in a very white stocking. her body moved in a manner that was pleasantly exciting because of the efforts occasioned by the soaping. her sleeves were rolled up and he observed her pretty brown plump arms, which enchanted him.
i have always loved beautiful arms particularly. there are people who attach great importance to the perfection of the foot. i admit that they touch me too, but the arm is to my mind that which should be most perfect in woman. it is always in motion, one always has one's eye upon it. one might say that it is the veritable organ of the graces, and that by its deft movements, it is the veritable arm of love, since when curved, this delicate arm resembles a bow, and when extended, the arrow thereof.
this was also croniamantal's point of view. he was thinking of this, when his horse, who suddenly remembered that it was the habitual hour for being fed, began to whinny. at once the young girl turned and showed surprise at seeing a stranger regarding her from above the fence. she blushed and only seemed the more charming. her dusky skin attested to the moorish blood that flowed in her veins. croniamantal asked her for food and drink. with much good grace this sweet girl did have him enter the house and served him a rude repast. with some milk, eggs, and black bread, his thirst and his hunger were soon sated. in the meantime, he questioned his young hostess, in the hope of finding an opportunity for paying her gallant compliments. he learned that her name was mariette, and that her parents had gone to the neighboring town to sell vegetables; her brother was working on the road. this family lived happily on the products of the orchard and the barnyard.
at this moment, her parents, fine looking peasants, returned, and there was croniamantal already in love with mariette, quite disappointed. he paid the mother for the meal, and went off, after having given mariette a long look which she did not return, but he had the satisfaction of seeing her blush as she turned away.
he mounted his horse and took the road to his house. being for the first time in his life, sad for love, he found extreme melancholy in this same countryside which he had previously traversed. the sun had dropped low over the horizon. the grey leaves of the olive trees seemed as sad as himself. the shadows stretched out like waves. the river where he had seen the bathers was abandoned. the lapping of the water became unbearable for him, like a mockery. he threw his horse into a gallop. then there was the dusk, lights appearing in the distance. then night came; he slowed up his horse and abandoned himself to a disordered revelry. the sloping road was bordered with cypresses, and it was thus, somnolent with the night and with love, that croniamantal pursued his melancholy way.
* * *
his master soon noticed in the days that followed that he gave no more attention to the studies to which he had been wont to apply himself with such diligence. he divined that this disgust came of love.
his respect was mingled with a little scorn because mariette was nothing but a simple peasant girl.
the end of september had been reached, and one day mr. janssen led croniamantal out under the laden olive trees in the orchard and censured his disciple for his passion, the latter hearkening to his reproaches with ruddy embarrassment. the first winds of autumn complained in the fields and croniamantal, very sad and much ashamed, lost forever his desire to see again the pretty mariette and kept nothing but the memory of her.
* * *
and so croniamantal attained his majority.
a disease of the heart which was discovered in him led to his dismissal by the military authorities. soon after, his guardian died suddenly, leaving him by will the little which he possessed. and after having sold the house called le chateau, croniamantal went to paris to give himself freely to his taste for literature; he had been for some time past composing poems secretly and accumulating them in an old cigar-box.
