"Marceline, these kings could not die too soon. Well, then, Jeanike, the daughter of my great-grandfather had two children, Germain, a forester serf of this domain, and Yvonne, a charming girl, whom Guyrion the Plunger, son of my great-grandfather, took to wife. She went with him to Paris, where they settled down and where he plied his father's trade of skipper. Guyrion had from Yvonne a son named Leduecq ... and he was my father. My grandfather Guyrion remained in Paris as skipper. A woman named Anne the Sweet was a.s.saulted by one of the officers of the Count of the city, and her husband, Rustic the Gay, a friend of my father, killed the officer. The soldiers ran to arms and the mariners rose at the call of Rustic and Guyrion, but both of them were killed together with Anne in the b.l.o.o.d.y fray that ensued. My grandfather being one of the leaders in the revolt, the little he owned was confiscated. Reduced to misery, his widow left Paris with her son and came to her brother Germain the forester for shelter. He shared his hut with Yvonne and her son. Such is the iniquity of the feudal law that those who dwell a year and a day upon royal or seigniorial domain become its serfs. Such was the fate of my grandfather's widow and her son Leduecq. She was put to work in the fields, Leduecq following the occupation of his uncle succeeded him as forester of the canton of the Fountain of the Hinds.

Later he married a serf whose mother was a washerwoman of the castle. I was born of that marriage. My father, who was as gentle towards my mother and myself as he was rude and intractable towards all others, never ceased thinking of the death of my grandfather Guyrion, who was slaughtered by the soldiers of the Count of Paris. He never left the forest except to carry his tax of game to the castle. Of a somber and indominable character, often switched for his insubordination towards the bailiff's agents, he would have taken a cruel revenge for the ill-treatment that he was subjected to were it not for the fear of leaving my mother and myself in want. She died about a year ago. My father survived her only a few months. When I lost him, I came by orders of the bailiff to live with my maternal aunt, a washerwoman at the castle of Compiegne. You now know my family."

"The good Martha! When you first came here she always said to me: 'It is no wonder that my grandson looks like a savage; he never left the forest.' But during the last days of her life your grandmother often said to me with tears in her eyes: 'The good G.o.d has willed it that Yvon be an idiot.' I thought as she did, and therefore had great pity for you. And yet, how mistaken I was. You speak like a clerk. While you were just now speaking, I said to myself: 'Can it be?... Yvon the Calf, who talks that way? And he in love?'"

"And are you pleased to see your error dispelled? Do you reciprocate my feelings?"

"I do not know," answered the young serf blushing. "I am so taken by surprise by all that you have been telling me! I must have time to think."

"Marceline, will you marry me, yes or no? You are an orphan; you depend upon your mistress; I upon the bailiff; we are serfs of the same domain; can there be any reason why they should refuse their consent to our marriage?" And he added bitterly: "Does not the lambkin that is born increase its master's herd?"

"Alack! According to the laws our children are born and die serfs as ourselves! But would my mistress Adelaide give her consent to my marrying an idiot?"

"This is my project: Adelaide is a favorite and confidante of the Queen.

Now, then this is a beautiful day for the Queen."

"What! The day when the King, her husband, died?"

"For that very reason. The Queen is to-day in high feather, and for a thousand reasons her confidante, your mistress, must feel no less happy than the widow of Louis the Do-nothing. To ask for a favor at such a moment is to have it granted."

"What favor would you ask?"

"If you consent to marry me, Marceline, you will need Adelaide's permission and we shall want her promise to have me appointed forester serf with the canton of the Fountain of the Hinds under my charge. Two words of your mistress to the Queen, two words of the Queen to the bailiff of the domain, and our wishes are fulfilled."

"But, Yvon, do you consider that everybody takes you for an idiot? And would they entrust you with a canton? It is out of the question."

"Let them give me a bow and arrows and I am ready to acquit myself as an archer. I have an accurate eye and steady hand."

"But how will you explain the sudden change that has turned you from an idiot to a sane man? People will want to know why you pretended to be an idiot. You will be severely punished for the ruse. Oh, my friend, all that makes me tremble."

"After I am married I shall tell you my reasons for my long comedy. As to my transformation from idiocy to sanity, that is to be the subject of a miracle. The thought struck me this morning while I followed your mistress and the Queen to the hermitage of St. Eusebius. Everything is explainable with the intervention of a saint."

"And why did you follow the Queen?"

"Having woke up this morning before dawn, I happened near the fosse of the castle. Hardly was the sun up when I saw at a distance your mistress and the Queen going all alone towards the forest. The mysterious promenade p.r.i.c.ked my curiosity. I followed them at a distance across the copse. They arrived at the hermitage of St. Eusebius. Your mistress remained there, but the Queen took the path to the Fountain of the Hinds."

"What could she be up to at that early hour? My curiosity also is now p.r.i.c.ked."

"That is another question that I shall satisfy you upon after we are married, Marceline," answered Yvon after a moment's reflection; "but to return to the miracle that is to explain my transformation from idiocy to sanity, it is quite simple: St. Eusebius, the patron of the hermitage, will be credited with having performed the prodigy, and the monk, who now derives a goodly revenue from the hermitage will not deny my explanation, seeing that the report of the new miracle will double his t.i.thes. His whole fraternity speculate upon human stupidity."

The golden-haired Marceline smiled broadly at the young man's idea, and replied:

"Can it be Yvon the Calf that reasons thus?"

"No, my dear and sweet maid, it is Yvon the lover; Yvon on whom you took pity when he was everybody else's b.u.t.t and victim; Yvon, who, in return for your good heart, offers you love and devotion. That is all a poor serf can promise, seeing that his labor and his life belong to his master. Accept my offer, Marceline, we shall be as happy as one can be in these accursed times. We shall cultivate the field that surrounds the forester's hut; I shall kill for the castle the game wanted there, and as sure as the good G.o.d has created the stags for the hunt, we never shall want for a loin of venison. You will take charge of our vegetable garden. The streamlet of the Fountain of the Hinds flows but a hundred paces from our home. We shall live alone in the thick of the woods without other companions than the birds and our children. And now, again, is it 'yes' or 'no'? I want a quick answer."

"Oh, Yvon," answered Marceline, tears of joy running from her eyes, "if a serf could dispose of herself, I would say 'yes' ... aye, a hundred times, 'yes'!"

"My beloved, our happiness depends upon you. If you have the courage to request your mistress's permission to take me for your husband, you may be certain of her consent."

"Shall I ask Dame Adelaide this evening?"

"No, but to-morrow morning, after I shall have come back _with my sanity_. I am going on the spot to fetch it at the hermitage of St.

Eusebius, and to-morrow I shall bring it to you nice and fresh from the holy place--and with the monk's consent, too."

"And people called him the 'Calf'!" murmured the young serf more and more charmed at the retorts of Yvon, who disappeared speedily, fearing he might be surprised by the Queen's lady of the chamber, Adelaide.

CHAPTER VII.

THE STOCK OF JOEL.

Yvon's calculations proved right. He had told Marceline that no more opportune time could be chosen to obtain a favor from the Queen, so happy was she at the death of Louis the Do-nothing and the expectation of marrying Hugh the Capet. Thanks to the good-will of Adelaide, who consented to the marriage of her maid, the bailiff of the domain also granted his consent to Yvon after the latter, agreeable to the promise he had made Marceline, returned _with his sanity_ from the chapel of the hermitage of St. Eusebius. The serf's story was, that entering the chapel in the evening, he saw by the light of the lamp in the sanctuary a monstrous black snake coiled around the feet of the saint; that suddenly enlightened by a ray from on high, he stoned and killed the horrible dragon, which was nothing else than a demon, seeing that no trace of the monster was left; and that, in recompense for his timely a.s.sistance, St. Eusebius miraculously returned his reason to him. In glorification of the miracle that was thus performed by St. Eusebius in favor of the Calf, Yvon was at his own request appointed forester serf over the canton of the Fountain of the Hinds, and the very morning after his marriage to the golden-haired Marceline, he settled down with her in one of the profound solitudes of the forest of Compiegne, where they lived happily for many years.

As was to be expected, Marceline's curiosity, p.r.i.c.ked on the double score of the reasons that led Yvon to simulate idiocy for so many years, and that took the Queen to the Fountain of the Hinds at the early hours of the morning of May 2nd, instead of dying out, grew intenser. Yvon had promised after marriage to satisfy her on both subjects. She was not slow to remind him of the promise, nor he to satisfy her.

"My dear wife," said Yvon to Marceline the first morning that they awoke in their new forest home, "What were the motives of my pretended idiocy?--I was brought up by my father in the hatred of kings. My grandfather Guyrion, slaughtered in a popular uprising, had taught my father to read and write, so that he might continue the chronicle of our family. He preserved the account left by his grandfather Eidiol, the dean of the skippers of Paris, together with an iron arrow-head, the emblem attached to the account. We do not know whatever became of the branch of our family that lived in Britanny near the sacred stones of Karnak. It has the previous chronicles and relics that our ancestors recorded and gathered from generation to generation since the days of Joel, at the time of the Roman invasion of Gaul by Julius Caesar. My grandfather and my father wrote nothing on their obscure lives. But in the profound solitude where we lived, of an evening, after a day spent hunting or in the field, my father would narrate to me what my grandfather Guyrion had told him concerning the adventures of the descendants of Joel. Guyrion received these traditions from Eidiol, who received them from his grandfather, a resident of Britanny, before the separation of the grandchildren of Vortigern. I was barely eighteen years old when my father died. He made me promise him to record the experience of my life should I witness any important event. To that end he handed me the scroll of parchment written by Eidiol and the iron arrow-head taken from the wound of Paelo, the pirate. I carefully put these cherished mementos of the past in the pocket of my hose. That evening I closed my father's eyes. Early next morning I dug his grave near his hut and buried him. His bow, his arrows, a few articles of dress, his pallet, his trunk, his porridge-pot--everything was a fixture of and belonged to the royal domain. The serf can own nothing.

Nevertheless I cogitated how to take possession of the bow, arrows and a bag of chestnuts that was left, determined to roam over the woods in freedom, when a singular accident upturned my projects. I had lain down upon the gra.s.s in the thick of a copse near our hut, when suddenly I heard the steps of two riders and saw that they were men of distinguished appearance. They were promenading in the forest. They alighted from their richly caparisoned horses, held them by the bridle, and walked slowly. One of them said to the other:

'King Lothaire was poisoned last year by his wife Imma and her lover, the archbishop of Laon ... but there is Louis left, Lothaire's son ...

Louis the Do-nothing.'

'And if this Louis were to die, would his uncle, the Duke of Lorraine, to whom the crown would then revert by right, venture to dispute the crown of France from me ... from me, Hugh, the Count of Paris?'

'No, seigneur; he would not. But it is barely six months since Lothaire's death. It would require a singular chain of accidents for his son to follow him so closely to the tomb.'

'The ways of Providence are impenetrable.... Next spring, Louis will come with the Queen to Compiegne, and--'

"I could not hear the end of the conversation, the cavaliers were walking away from me as they spoke. The words that I caught gave me matter for reflection. I recalled some of the stories that my father told me, that of Amael among others, one of our ancestors, who declined the office of jailor of the last scion of Clovis. I said to myself that perhaps I, a descendant of Joel, might now witness the death of the last of the kings of the house of Charles the Great. The thought so took hold of me that it caused me to give up my first plan. Instead of roaming over the woods, I went the next morning to my grandmother. I had never before stepped out of the forest where I lived in complete seclusion with my father. I was taciturn by nature, and wild. Upon arriving at the castle in quest of my grandmother, I met by accident a company of Frankish soldiers who had been exercising. For pastime they began to make sport of me. My hatred of their race, coupled with my astonishment at finding myself for the first time in my life among such a big crowd, made me dumb. The soldiers took my savage silence for stupidity, and they cried in chorus: 'He is a calf!' Thus they carried me along with them amidst wild yells and jeers, and not a few blows bestowed upon me!

I cared little whether I was taken for an idiot or not, and considering that n.o.body minds an idiot, I began in all earnest to play the role, hoping that, thanks to my seeming stupidity, I might succeed in penetrating into the castle without arousing suspicion. My poor grandmother believed me devoid of reason, the retainers at the castle, the courtiers, and later the King himself amused themselves with the imbecility of Yvon the Calf. And so one day, after having been an unseen witness to the interview of Hugh the Capet with Blanche near the Fountain of the Hinds, I saw the degenerate descendant of Charles the Great expire under my very eyes; I saw extinguished in Louis the Do-nothing the second royal dynasty of France."

Marceline followed Yvon closely with her hands in his, and kissed him, thinking the recital over.

"But I have a confession to make to you," Yvon resumed. "Profiting by the facility I enjoyed in entering the castle, I committed a theft.... I one day s.n.a.t.c.hed away a roll of skins that had been prepared to write upon. Never having owned one denier, it would have been impossible for me to purchase so expensive an article as parchment. As to pens and fluid, the feathers that I pluck from eagles and crows, and the black juice of the trivet-berry will serve me to record the events of my life, the past and recent part of which is monumental, and whose next and approaching part promises to be no less so."

PART II.

THE END OF THE WORLD.

CHAPTER I.