André Theuriet
A Woodland Queen ('Reine des Bois') — Complete
Published by Good Press, 2021
EAN 4057664594181
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I. THE UNFINISHED WILL
CHAPTER III. CONSCIENCE HIGHER THAN THE LAW
CHAPTER V. LOVE’S INDISCRETION
CHAPTER VII. THE STRANGE, DARK SECRET
CHAPTER VIII. LOVE’S SAD ENDING
CHAPTER IX. LOVE HEALS THE BROKEN HEART
A WOODLAND QUEEN
BOOK 1.
CHAPTER I. THE UNFINISHED WILL
Toward the middle of October, about the time of the beechnut harvest, M. Eustache Destourbet, justice of the Peace of Auberive, accompanied by his clerk, Etienne Seurrot, left his home at Abbatiale, in order to repair to the Chateau of Vivey, where he was to take part in removing the seals on some property whose owner had deceased.
At that period, 1857, the canton of Auberive, which stretches its massive forests like a thick wall between the level plain of Langres and the ancient Chatillonais, had but one main road of communication: that from Langres to Bar-sur-Aube. The almost parallel adjacent route, from Auberive to Vivey, was not then in existence; and in order to reach this last commune, or hamlet, the traveller had to follow a narrow grass-bordered path, leading through the forest up the hill of Charboniere, from the summit of which was seen that intermingling of narrow gorges and wooded heights which is so characteristic of this mountainous region. On all sides were indented horizons of trees, among which a few, of more dominant height, projected their sharp outlines against the sky; in the distance were rocky steeps, with here and there a clump of brambles, down which trickled slender rivulets; still farther, like little islands, half submerged in a sea of foliage, were pastures of tender green dotted with juniper bushes, almost black in their density, and fields of rye struggling painfully through the stony soil—the entire scene presenting a picture of mingled wildness and cultivation, aridity and luxuriant freshness.
Justice Destourbet, having strong, wiry limbs, ascended cheerily the steep mountain-path. His tall, spare figure, always in advance of his companion, was visible through the tender green of the young oaks, clothed in a brown coat, a black cravat, and a very high hat, which the justice, who loved correctness in details, thought it his duty to don whenever called upon to perform his judicial functions. The clerk, Seurrot, more obese, and of maturer age, protuberant in front, and somewhat curved in the back, dragged heavily behind, perspiring and out of breath, trying to keep up with his patron, who, now and then seized with compassion, would come to a halt and wait for his subordinate.
“I trust,” said Destourbet, after one of these intervals which enabled the clerk to walk by his side, “I trust we shall find Maitre Arbillot down there; we shall have need of his services in looking over and filing the papers of the deceased.”
“Yes, Monsieur,” answered Seurrot, “the notary will meet us at the chateau; he went to Praslay to find out from his associates whether Monsieur de Buxieres had not left a will in his keeping. In my humble opinion, that is hardly likely; for the deceased had great confidence in Maitre Arbillot, and it seems strange that he should choose to confide his testamentary intentions to a rival notary.”
“Well,” observed the justice, “perhaps when the seals are raised, we may discover an autograph will in some corner of a drawer.”
“It is to be hoped so, Monsieur,” replied Seurrot; “I wish it with all my heart, for the sake of Claudet Sejournant, for he is a good fellow, although on the sinister bar of the escutcheon, and a right jolly companion.”
“Yes; and a marvellous good shot,” interrupted the justice. “I recognize all that; but even if he had a hundred other good qualities, the grand chasserot, as they call him here, will be on the wrong side of the hedge if Monsieur de Buxieres has unfortunately died intestate. In the eye of the law, as you are doubtless aware, a natural child, who has not been acknowledged, is looked upon as a stranger.”
“Monsieur de Buxieres always treated Claudet as his own son, and every one knew that he so considered him.”
“Possibly, but if the law were to keep count of all such cases, there would be no end to their labors; especially in all questions of the ‘cujus’. Odouart de Buxieres was a terribly wild fellow, and they say that these old beech-trees of Vivey forest could tell many a tale of his exploits.”
“He, he!” assented the clerk, laughing slyly, and showing his toothless gums, “there is some truth in that. The deceased had the devil in his boots. He could see neither a deer nor a pretty girl without flying in pursuit. Ah, yes! Many a trick has he played them—talk of your miracles, forsooth!—well, Claudet was his favorite, and Monsieur de Buxieres has told me, over and over again, that he would make him his heir, and I shall be very much astonished if we do not find a will.”
“Seurrot, my friend,” replied the justice, calmly, “you are too experienced not to know that our country folks dread nothing so much as testifying to their last wishes—to make a will, to them, is to put one foot into the grave. They will not call in the priest or the notary until the very last moment, and very often they delay until it is too late. Now, as the deceased was at heart a rustic, I fear greatly that he did not carry his intentions into execution.”
“That would be a pity—for the chateau, the lands, and the entire fortune would go to an heir of whom Monsieur Odouart never had taken