human
--he put his finger near the base--
gpt
He traced their course around the apex very slowly.
human
Whereas _we_--!
gpt
I see, said John, picking up the short twig and bending it into an arch,
human
A hard way to find, m'sieur. But have no fear. I have travelled it.
gpt
Assuredly I have no fear with you, M.--
human
Guyon, m'sieur--Jean Bateese Guyon. This M. Barboux is a merry fellow--il ne peut pas se passer de ses enjouements. But I was not born like this.
gpt
It was an accident then, M. Guyon?
human
An accident--oh, yes, be assured it was an accident. A flush showed on the little man's cheek, and his speech on a sudden became very rapid.
gpt
But as we were saying, I know the trail across yonder; and my brother Dominique he knows it even better. I wish we may see Dominique, m'sieur; there is no such _voyageur_ from Quebec up to Michilimackinac, aye or beyond! He has been down the Cascades by night, himself only; it was when I had my--my accident, and he must go to fetch a surgeon. All along the river it is talked of yet. But it is nothing to boast of, for the hand of God must have been upon him. And as good as he is brave!
human
And where is your brother Dominique just now?
gpt
He will be at home, m'sieur. Soon they will be carrying the harvest at Boisveyrac, and he is now the seigneur's farmer. He will be worrying himself over the harvest, for Dominique takes things to heart, both of this world and the next; whereas--I am a good Catholic, I hope--but these things do not trouble me. It seems there is no time to be troubled. Bateese looked up shyly, with a blush like a girl's.
human
M'sieur may be able to tell me--or, maybe, he will think it foolish. This love of women, now?
gpt
Proceed, M. Guyon.
human
Ah, you believe in it! When the sergeant begins his talk--c'est bien sale, is it not? But that is not the sort I mean. Well, Dominique is in love, and it brings him no happiness. He can never have what he wants, nor would it be right, and he knows it; but nevertheless he goes on craving for it and takes no pleasure in life for the want of it. I look at him, wondering. Then I say to myself, 'Bateese, when le bon Dieu broke you in pieces He was not unkind. Your heart is cracked and cannot hold love, like your brother's; but what of that, while God is pouring love into it all day long and never ceases? You are ugly, and no maid will ever want you for a husband; therefore you are lucky who cannot store away desire for this or that one, like poor Dominique, who goes about aching and fit to burst. You go singing _a la claire fontaine_, which is full of unhappiness and longing, but all the while you are happy enough.' Indeed, that is the truth, monsieur. I study this love of Dominique's, which makes him miserable; but I cannot judge it. I see that it brings pain to men.
gpt
But delight also, my friend.
human
And delight also--that is understood. M'sieur is, perhaps, in love? Or has been?
gpt
No, Bateese; not yet.
human
But you will; with that face it is certain. Now shall I tell you?-- to my guessing this love of women is like an untried rapid. Something smiles ahead for you, and you push for it and _voyez!_ in a moment down you go, fifteen miles an hour and the world spinning; and at the bottom of the fall, if the woman be good, sweet is the journey and you wonder, looking back from smooth water, down what shelves you were swept to her. That, I say, is what I suppose this love to be; but for myself I shall never try it. Since le bon Dieu broke the pitcher its pieces are scattered all over me, within; they hold nothing, but there they lie shining in their useless fashion.
gpt
Not useless, perhaps, Bateese.
human
In their useless fashion, he persisted.
gpt
They will smile and be gay at the sight of a pretty girl, or at the wild creatures in the woods yonder, or at the thoughts in a song, or for no better reason than that the day is bright and the air warm. But they can store nothing. It is the same with religion, monsieur, and with affairs of State; neither troubles my head. Dominique is devout, for example; and Father Launoy comes to talk with him, which makes him gloomy. The reverend Father just hears my sins and lets me go; he knows well enough that Bateese does not count. And then he and Dominique sit and talk politics by the hour. The Father declares that all the English are devils, and that anyone who fights for the Holy Church and is killed by them will rise again the third day.
human
I too think the reverend Father must be making some mistake, said Bateese gravely.
gpt
No doubt he has been misinformed.
human
No doubt. For suppose now that I were a devil?
gpt
Oh, m'sieur, Bateese expostulated.
human
Shall I tell you what I think, Bateese? I think we are all pitchers and perhaps made to be broken. Ten days ago I was brimful of ambitions; someone--le bon Dieu, or General Abercromby--has toppled me over and spilt them all; and here I lie on my side, not broken, but full of emptiness.
gpt
Heh, heh--'full of emptiness'!
human
It may be that in time someone will set me up again and pour into me wine of another sort. I hope for this, because it is painful to lie upset and empty; and I do not wish to be broken, for that must be even more painful--at the time, eh?
gpt
Indeed, m'sieur, it hurt--at the time.
human
But afterwards--when the pieces have no more trouble, being released from pride--the pride of being a pitcher! Is it useless they are as they lie upturned, reflecting--what? My friend, if we only knew this we might discover that now, when it can no longer store up wine for itself, the pitcher is at last serving an end it was made for.
gpt
You are talking for my sake, monsieur, not for yourself! At your age I too could be melancholy for amusement. Ah, pardon, for John had blushed hotly.
human
Do I not know why you said it? Am I not grateful?