第 59 页

smile to see if he were following her. And every time they overtook and

passed a cart she spoke to him of the merits of their machines, which

both came from the Grandidier works. They were "Lisettes," examples of

those popular bicycles which Thomas had helped to perfect, and which the

Bon Marche now sold in large numbers for 250 francs apiece. Perhaps they

were rather heavy in appearance, but on the other hand their strength was

beyond question. They were just the machines for a long journey, so Marie

declared.

"Ah! here's the forest," she at last exclaimed. "We have now reached the

end of the rise; and you will see what splendid avenues there are. One

can bowl along them as on a velvet carpet."

Pierre had already joined her, and they rode on side by side along the

broad straight avenue fringed with magnificent trees.

"I am all right now," said Pierre; "your pupil will end by doing you

honour, I hope."

"Oh! I've no doubt of it. You already have a very good seat, and before

long you'll leave me behind, for a woman is never a man's equal in a

matter like this. At the same time, however, what a capital education

cycling is for women!"

In what way?"

"Oh! I've certain ideas of my own on the subject; and if ever I have a

daughter I shall put her on a bicycle as soon as she's ten years old,

just to teach her how to conduct herself in life."

"Education by experience, eh?"

"Yes, why not? Look at the big girls who are brought up hanging to their

mothers' apron strings. Their parents frighten them with everything, they

are allowed no initiative, no exercise of judgment or decision, so that

at times they hardly know how to cross a street, to such a degree does

the traffic alarm them. Well, I say that a girl ought to be set on a

bicycle in her childhood, and allowed to follow the roads. She will then

learn to open her eyes, to look out for stones and avoid them, and to

turn in the right direction at every bend or crossway. If a vehicle comes

up at a gallop or any other danger presents itself, she'll have to make

up her mind on the instant, and steer her course firmly and properly if

she does not wish to lose a limb. Briefly, doesn't all this supply proper

apprenticeship for one's will, and teach one how to conduct and defend

oneself?"

Pierre had begun to laugh. "You will all be too healthy," he remarked.

"Oh, one must be healthy if one wants to be happy. But what I wish to

convey is that those who learn to avoid stones and to turn properly along

the highways will know how to overcome difficulties, and take the best

decisions in after life. The whole of education lies in knowledge and

energy."

"So women are to be emancipated by cycling?"

"Well, why not? It may seem a droll idea; but see what progress has been

made already. By wearing rationals women free their limbs from prison;

then the facilities which cycling affords people for going out together

tend to greater intercourse and equality between the sexes; the wife and

the children can follow the husband everywhere, and friends like

ourselves are at liberty to roam hither and thither without astonishing

anybody. In this lies the greatest advantage of all: one takes a bath of

air and sunshine, one goes back to nature, to the earth, our common

mother, from whom one derives fresh strength and gaiety of heart! Just

look how delightful this forest is. And how healthful the breeze that

inflates our lungs! Yes, it all purifies, calms and encourages one."

The forest, which was quite deserted on week days, stretched out in

quietude on either hand, with sunlight filtering between its deep bands

of trees. At that hour the rays only illumined one side of the avenue,

there gilding the lofty drapery of verdure; on the other, the shady side,

the greenery seemed almost black. It was truly delightful to skim,

swallow-like, over that royal avenue in the fresh atmosphere, amidst the

waving of grass and foliage, whose powerful scent swept against one's

face. Pierre and Marie scarcely touched the soil: it was as if wings had

come to them, and were carrying them on with a regular flight, through

alternate patches of shade and sunshine, and all the scattered vitality

of the far-reaching, quivering forest, with its mosses, its sources, its

animal and its insect life.

Marie would not stop when they reached the crossway of the Croix de

Noailles, a spot where people congregate on Sundays, for she was

acquainted with secluded nooks which were far more charming

resting-places. When they reached the slope going down towards Poissy,

she roused Pierre, and they let their machines rush on. Then came all the

joyous intoxication of speed, the rapturous feeling of darting along

breathlessly while the grey road flees beneath one, and the trees on

either hand turn like the opening folds of a fan. The breeze blows

tempestuously, and one fancies that one is journeying yonder towards the

horizon, the infinite, which ever and ever recedes. It is like boundless

hope, delivery from every shackle, absolute freedom of motion through

space. And nothing can inspirit one more gloriously--one's heart leaps as

if one were in the very heavens.

"We are not going to Poissy, you know!" Marie suddenly cried; "we have to

turn to the left."

They took the road from Acheres to the Loges, which ascends and

contracts, thus bringing one closer together in the shade. Gradually

slowing down, they began to exert themselves in order to make their way

up the incline. This road was not so good as the others, it had been

gullied by the recent heavy rains, and sand and gravel lay about. But

then is there not even a pleasure in effort?

"You will get used to it," said Marie to Pierre; "it's amusing to

overcome obstacles. For my part I don't like roads which are invariably

smooth. A little ascent which does not try one's limbs too much rouses

and inspirits one. And it is so agreeable to find oneself strong, and

able to go on and on in spite of rain, or wind, or hills."

Her bright humour and courage quite charmed Pierre. "And so," said he,

"we are off for a journey round France?"

"No, no, we've arrived. You won't dislike a little rest, eh? And now,

tell me, wasn't it worth our while to come on here and rest in such a

nice fresh, quiet spot."

She nimbly sprang off her machine and, bidding him follow her, turned

into a path, along which she went some fifty paces. They placed their

bicycles against some trees, and then found themselves in a little

clearing, the most exquisite, leafy nest that one could dream of. The

forest here assumed an aspect of secluded sovereign beauty. The

springtide had endowed it with youth, the foliage was light and virginal,

like delicate green lace flecked with gold by the sun-rays. And from the

herbage and the surrounding thickets arose a breath of life, laden with

all the powerful aroma of the earth.

"It's not too warm as yet, fortunately," exclaimed Marie, as she seated

herself at the foot of a young oak-tree, against which she leant. "In

July ladies get rather red by the time they reach this spot, and all the

powder comes off their faces. However, one can't always be beautiful."

"Well, I'm not cold by any means," replied Pierre, as he sat at her feet

wiping his forehead.

She laughed, and answered that she had never before seen him with such a

colour. Then they began to talk like children, like two young friends,

finding a source of gaiety in the most puerile things. She was somewhat

anxious about his health, however, and would not allow him to remain in

the cool shade, as he felt so very warm. In order to tranquillise her, he

had to change his place and seat himself with his back to the sun. Then a

little later he saved her from a large black spider, which had caught

itself in the wavy hair on the nape of her neck. At this all her womanly

nature reappeared, and she shrieked with terror. "How stupid it was to be

afraid of a spider!" she exclaimed a moment afterwards; yet, in spite of

her efforts to master herself, she remained pale and trembling.

Silence at last fell between them, and they looked at one another with a

smile. In the midst of that delicate greenery they felt drawn together by

frank affection--the affection of brother and sister, so it seemed to

them. It made Marie very happy to think that she had taken an interest in

Pierre, and that his return to health was largely her own work. However,

their eyes never fell, their hands never met, even as they sat there

toying with the grass, for they were as pure, as unconscious of all evil,

as were the lofty oaks around them.

At last Marie noticed that time was flying. "You know that they expect us

back to lunch," she exclaimed. "We ought to be off."

Thereupon they rose, wheeled their bicycles back to the highway, and

starting off again at a good pace passed the Loges and reached

Saint-Germain by the fine avenue which conducts to the chateau. It

charmed them to take their course again side by side, like birds of equal

flight. Their little bells jingled, their chains rustled lightly, and a

fresh breeze swept past them as they resumed their talk, quite at ease,

and so linked together by friendship that they seemed far removed from

all the rest of the world.

They took the train from Saint-Germain to Paris, and on the journey

Pierre suddenly noticed that Marie's cheeks were purpling. There were two

ladies with them in the compartment.

"Ah!" said he, "so you feel warm in your turn now?"

But she protested the contrary, her face glowing more and more brightly

as she spoke, as if some sudden feeling of shame quite upset her. "No,

I'm not warm," said she; "just feel my hands.... But how ridiculous it

is to blush like this without any reason for it!"

He understood her. This was one of those involuntary blushing fits which

so distressed her, and which, as Mere-Grand had remarked, brought her

heart to her very cheeks. There was no cause for it, as she herself said.

After slumbering in all innocence in the solitude of the forest her heart

had begun to beat, despite herself.

Meantime, over yonder at Montmartre, Guillaume had spent his morning in

preparing some of that mysterious powder, the cartridges of which he

concealed upstairs in Mere-Grand's bedroom. Great danger attended this

manufacture. The slightest forgetfulness while he was manipulating the

ingredients, any delay, too, in turning off a tap, might lead to a

terrible explosion, which would annihilate the building and all who might

be in it. For this reason he preferred to work when he was alone, so that

on the one hand there might be no danger for others, and on the other

less likelihood of his own attention being diverted from his task. That

morning, as it happened, his three sons were working in the room, and

Mere-Grand sat sewing near the furnace. Truth to tell, she did not count,

for she scarcely ever left her place, feeling quite at ease there,

however great might be the peril. Indeed, she had become so well

acquainted with the various phases of Guillaume's delicate operations,

and their terrible possibilities, that she would occasionally give him a

helping hand.

That morning, as she sat there mending some house linen,--her eyesight

still being so keen that in spite of her seventy years she wore no

spectacles,--she now and again glanced at Guillaume as if to make sure

that he forgot nothing. Then feeling satisfied, she would once more bend

over her work. She remained very strong and active. Her hair was only

just turning white, and she had kept all her teeth, while her face still

looked refined, though it was slowly withering with age and had acquired

an expression of some severity. As a rule she was a woman of few words;

her life was one of activity and good management. When she opened her

lips it was usually to give advice, to counsel reason, energy and

courage. For some time past she had been growing more taciturn than ever,

as if all her attention were claimed by the household matters which were

in her sole charge; still, her fine eyes would rest thoughtfully on those

about her, on the three young men, and on Guillaume, Marie and Pierre,

who all obeyed her as if she were their acknowledged queen. If she looked

at them in that pensive way, was it that she foresaw certain changes, and

noticed certain incidents of which the others remained unconscious?

Perhaps so. At all events she became even graver, and more attentive than

in the past. It was as if she were waiting for some hour to strike when

all her wisdom and authority would be required.

"Be careful, Guillaume," she at last remarked, as she once more looked up

from her sewing. "You seem absent-minded this morning. Is anything

worrying you?"

He glanced at her with a smile. "No, nothing, I assure you," he replied.

"But I was thinking of our dear Marie, who was so glad to go off to the

forest in this bright sunshine."

Antoine, who heard the remark, raised his head, while his brothers

remained absorbed in their work. "What a pity it is that I had this block

to finish," said he; "I would willingly have gone with her."

"Oh, no matter," his father quietly rejoined. "Pierre is with her, and he

is very cautious."

For another moment Mere-Grand continued scrutinising Guillaume; then she

once more reverted to her sewing.

If she exercised such sway over the home and all its inmates, it was by

reason of her long devotion, her intelligence, and the kindliness with

which she ruled. Uninfluenced by any religious faith, and disregarding

all social conventionalities, her guiding principle in everything was the

theory of human justice which she had arrived at after suffering so

grievously from the injustice that had killed her husband. She put her