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
Julien had once entertained the hope that Claudet's marriage with Reinewould act as a kind of heroic remedy for the cure of his unfortunatepassion, he very soon perceived that he had been wofully mistaken. Assoon as he had informed the grand chasserot of the success of hisundertaking, he became aware that his own burden was considerablyheavier. Certainly it had been easier for him to bear uncertainty thanthe boisterous rapture evinced by his fortunate rival. His jealousy roseagainst it, and that was all. Now that he had torn from Reine the avowalof her love for Claudet, he was more than ever oppressed by his hopelesspassion, and plunged into a condition of complete moral and physicaldisintegration. It mingled with his blood, his nerves, his thoughts, andpossessed him altogether, dwelling within him like an adored andtyrannical mistress. Reine appeared constantly before him as he hadcontemplated her on the outside steps of the farmhouse, in her never-to-be-forgotten negligee of the short skirt and the half-open bodice. Heagain beheld the silken treasure of her tresses, gliding playfully aroundher shoulders, the clear, honest look of her limpid eyes, the expressivesmile of her enchanting lips, and with a sudden revulsion of feeling hereflected that perhaps before a month was over, all these charms wouldbelong to Claudct. Then, almost at the same moment, like a swallow,which, with one rapid turn of its wing, changes its course, his thoughtswent in the opposite direction, and he began to imagine what would havehappened if, instead of replying in the affirmative, Reine had objectedto marrying Claudet. He could picture himself kneeling before her asbefore the Madonna, and in a low voice confessing his love. He wouldhave taken her hands so respectfully, and pleaded so eloquently, that shewould have allowed herself to be convinced. The little, hands would haveremained prisoners in his own; he would have lifted her tenderly,devotedly, in his arms, and under the influence of this feverish dream,he fancied he could feel the beating heart of the young girl against hisown bosom. Suddenly he would wake up out of his illusions, and bite hislips with rage on finding himself in the dull reality of his owndwelling.
One day he heard footsteps on the gravel; a sonorous and jovial voice methis ear. It was Claudet, starting for La Thuiliere. Julien bent forwardto see him, and ground his teeth as he watched his joyous departure. Thesharp sting of jealousy entered his soul, and he rebelled against theevident injustice of Fate. How had he deserved that life should presentso dismal and forbidding an aspect to him? He had had none of the joysof infancy; his youth had been spent wearily under the peevish disciplineof a cloister; he had entered on his young manhood with all theawkwardness and timidity of a night-bird that is made to fly in the day.Up to the age of twenty-seven years, he had known neither love norfriendship; his time had been given entirely to earning his daily bread,and to the cultivation of religious exercises, which consoled him in somemeasure for his apparently useless way of living. Latterly, it is true,Fortune had seemed to smile upon him, by giving him a little more moneyand li