by Louis Hémon
CHAPTER XIII
LOVE BEARING CHAINS
No one asked Maria any questions that evening, or on the followingevenings; but some member of the family must have told EutropeGagnon of Lorenzo Surprenant's visit and his evident intentions, forthe next Sunday after dinner came Eutrope in turn, and Maria heardanother suitor declare his love.
Fran?ois had come in the full tide of summer, from the land ofmystery at the headwaters of the rivers; the memory of his artlesswords brought back the dazzling sunshine, the ripened blueberriesand the last blossoms of the laurel fading in the undergrowth; afterhim appeared Lorenzo Surprenant offering other gifts,--visions ofbeautiful distant cities, of a life abounding in unknown wonders.When Eutrope spoke, it was in a shamefaced halting way, as though heforesaw defeat, knowing full well that he bore little in his handswherewith to tempt her.
Boldly enough he asked Maria to walk with him, but when they weredressed and outside the door, they saw that snow was falling. Mariastood dubiously on the step, a hand on the latch as though she wouldreturn; and Eutrope, unwilling to lose his chance, began forthwithto speak--hastening as though doubtful that he would be able to sayall that was in his mind.
"You know very well, Maria, how I feel toward you. I said nothingbefore as my farm was not so forward that we could live therecomfortably, and moreover I guessed that you liked Fran?ois Paradisbetter than me. But as Fran?ois is no longer here, and this youngfellow from the States is courting you, I said to myself that I,too, might try my fortune ..."
The snow was coming now in serried flakes, fluttering whitely for aninstant against the darkly-encircling forest, on the way to jointhat other snow with which five months of winter had burdened theearth.
"It is true enough that I am not rich; but I have two lots of myown, paid for out and out, and you know the soil is good. I shallwork on it all spring, take the stumps out of the large field belowthe ridge of rock, put up some fences, and by May there will be afine big field ready for seeding. I shall sow a hundred and thirtybushels, Maria,--a hundred and thirty bushels of wheat, barley andoats, without reckoning an acre of mixed grain for the cattle. Allthe seed, the best seed-grain, I am going to buy at Roberval,settling for it on the spot ... I have the money put aside; Ishall pay cash, without running into debt to a soul, and if only wehave an average season there will be a fine crop to harvest. Justthink of it, Maria, a hundred and thirty bushels of good seed infirst-rate land! And in the summer before the hay-making, and thenagain before the harvest, will be the best chance for building anice tight warm little house, all of tamarack. I have the woodready, cut and piled behind my barn; my brother will help me,perhaps Esdras and Da'Be as well, when they get home. Next winter Ishall go to the shanties, taking a horse with me, and in the springI shall bring back not less than two hundred dollars in my pocket.Then, should you be willing to wait so long for me, would be thetime ..."
Maria was leaning against the door, a hand still upon the latch, hereyes turned away. Eutrope Gagnon had just this and no more to offerher: after a year of waiting that she should become his wife, andlive as now she was doing in another wooden house on anotherhalf-cleared farm ... Should do the household work and thecooking, milk the cows, clean the stable when her man wasaway--labour in the fields perhaps, since she was strong and therewould be but two of them ... Should spend her evenings at thespinning-wheel or in patching old clothes ... Now arid then insummer resting for half an hour, seated on the door-step, lookingacross their scant fields girt by the measureless frowning woods; orin winter thawing a little patch with her breath on the windowpane,dulled with frost, to watch the snow falling on the wintry earth andthe forest ... The forest ... Always the inscrutable, inimicalforest, with a host of dark things hiding there--closed round themwith a savage grip that must be loosened little by little, year byyear; a few acres won each spring and autumn as the years pass,throughout all the long days of a dull harsh life ... No, that shecould not face ...
"I know well enough that we shall have to work hard at first,"Eutrope went on, "but you have courage, Maria, and are well used tolabour, as I am. I have always worked hard; no one can say that Iwas ever lazy, and if only you will marry me it will be my joy totoil like an ox all the day long to make a thriving place of it, sothat we shall be in comfort before old age comes upon us. I do nottouch drink, Maria, and truly I love you ..."
His voice quivered, and he put out his hand toward the latch to takehers, or perhaps to hinder her from opening the door and leaving himwithout his answer.
"My affection for you ... of that I am not able to speak ..."
Never a word did she utter in reply. Once more a young man wastelling his love, was placing in her hands all he had to give; andonce more she could but hearken in mute embarrassment, only savedfrom awkwardness by her immobility and silence. Town-bred girls hadthought her stupid, when she was but honest and truthful; very closeto nature which takes no account of words. In other days when lifewas simpler than now it is, when young men paid theircourt--masterfully and yet half bashfully--to some deep-bosomed girlin the ripe fullness of womanhood who had not heard nature'simperious command, she must have listened thus, in silence; lessattentive to their pleading than to the inner voice, guardingherself by distance against too ardent a wooing, whilst she awaited... The three lovers of Maria Chapdelaine were not drawn to her by any charm of graciousspeech, but by her sheer comeliness, and the transparent honestheart dwelling in her bosom; when they spoke to her of love she wastrue to herself, steadfast and serene, saying no word where none wasneedful to be said, and for this they loved her only the more.
"This young fellow from the States was ready with fine speeches, butyou must not be carried away by them ..." He caught a hint ofdissent and changed his tone.
"Of course you are quite free to choose, and I have not a word tosay against him. But you would be happier here, Maria, amongstpeople like yourself."
Through the falling snow Maria gazed at the rude structure ofplanks, between stable and barn, which her father and brother hadthrown together five years before; unsightly and squalid enough itappeared, now that her fancy had begun to conjure up the statelybuildings of the town. Close and ill-smelling, the floor litteredwith manure and foul straw, the pump in one corner that was so hardto work and set the teeth on edge with its grinding; theweather-beaten outside, buffeted by wind and never-ending snow--signand symbol of what awaited her were she to marry one like EutropeGagnon, and accept as her lot a lifetime of rude toil in this sadand desolate land ... She shook her head.
"I cannot answer, Eutrope, either yes or no; not just now. I havegiven no promise. You must wait."
It was more than she had said to Lorenzo Surprenant, and yet Lorenzohad gone away with hope in his heart, while Eutrope felt that he hadmade his throw and lost. Departing alone, the snow soon hid him. Sheentered the house.
* * * * *
March dragged through its melancholy days; cold winds drove the grayclouds back and forth across the sky, and swept the snow hither andthither; one must needs consult the calendar of the Roberval grainmerchant to get an inkling that spring was drawing near.
Succeeding days were to Maria like those that had gone before, eachone bringing its familiar duties and the same routine; but theevenings were different, and were filled with pathetic strivings tothink. Beyond doubt her parents had guessed the truth; but they wereunwilling to force her reserve with their advice, nor did she seekit. She knew that it rested with her alone to make a choice, tosettle the future course of her life, and she, felt like a child atschool, standing on a platform before watchful eyes, bidden to findby herself the answer to some knotty question.
And this was her problem: when a girl is grown to womanhood, whenshe is good-looking, healthy and strong, clever in all that pertainsto the household and the farm, young men come and ask her to marry,and she must say "Yes" to this one and "No" to another.
If only Fran?ois Paradis had not vanished forever in the greatlonely woods, all were then so plain. No nee
d to ask herself whatshe ought to do; she would have gone straight to him, guided by awise instinct that she might not gainsay, sure of doing what wasright as a child that obeys a command. But Fran?ois was gone;neither in the promised springtime nor ever again to return, and thecure of St. Henri forbade regrets that would prolong the awaiting.
Ah, dear God! How happy had been the early days of this awaiting! Asweek followed week something quickened in her heart and shot upward,like a rich and beauteous sheaf whose opening ears bend low undertheir weight. Happiness beyond any dream came dancing to her ...No, it was stronger and keener yet, this joy of hers. It had been agreat light shining in the twilight of a lonely land, a beacontoward which one journeys, forgetful of the tears that were about toflow, saying with glad defiance: "I knew it well--knew thatsomewhere on the earth was such a thing as this ..." It was over.Yes, the gleam was gone. Henceforth must she forget that once it hadshone upon her path, and grope through the dark with falteringsteps.
Chapdelaine and Tit'B? were smoking in silence by the stove; themother knitted stockings; Chien, stretched out with his head betweenhis paws, blinked sleepily in enjoyment of the good warmth.Telesphore had dozed off with the catechism open on his knees, andthe little Alma Rose, not yet in bed, was hovering in doubt betweenthe wish to draw attention to her brother's indolence, and a senseof shame at thus betraying him.
Maria looked down again, took her work in hand, and her simple mindpursued a little further its puzzling train of thought. When a girldoes not feel, or feels no longer, that deep mysterious impulsetoward a man singled out from all the rest of the world, what isleft to guide her? For what things should she seek in her marriage?For a satisfying life, surely; to make a happy home for herself ...
Her parents would like her to marry Eutrope Gagnon--that shefelt--because she would live near them, and again because this lifeupon the land was the only one they knew, and they naturally thoughtit better than any other. Eutrope was a fine fellow, hard-workingand of kindly disposition, and he loved her; but Lorenzo Surprenantalso loved her; he, likewise, was steady and a good worker; he was aCanadian at heart, not less than those amongst whom she lived; hewent to church ... And he offered as his splendid gift a worlddazzling to the eye, all the wonders of the city. He would rescueher from this oppression of frozen earth and gloomy forest.
She could not as yet resolve to say to herself: "I will marryLorenzo Surprenant," but her heart had made its choice. The cruelnorth-west wind that heaped the snow above Fran?ois Paradis at thefoot of some desolate cypress bore also to her on its wings thefrown and the harshness of the country wherein she dwelt, and filledher with hate of the northern winter, the cold, the whitened groundand the loneliness, of that boundless forest unheedful of thedestinies of men where every melancholy tree is fit to stand in ahome of the dead. Love--all-compelling love--for a brief space haddwelt within her heart ... Mighty flame, scorching and bright,quenched now, and never to revive. It left her spirit empty andyearning; she was fain to seek forgetfulness and cure in that lifeafar, among the myriad paler lights of the city.
