The Pastoral Symphony Read Online

Finally my young guide pointed with her finger to a thatched cottage on the side of a hill that one would have thought to be uninhabited except for a thin line of smoke that was escaping from it which was blue in the shadows and then became blonde in the gold of the sky. I tied the horse to a nearby apple tree and then rejoined the child in the obscure room where the old woman had just died.

The silence and the solemnity of the countryside at that moment made me numb. A young woman was genuflecting next to the bed. The child, whom I had taken to be the grandchild of the dead woman but who was actually only her servant, lit a smoky candle and then stood motionless at the foot of the bed.

During the long ride I had tried to engage her in conversation, but she said almost nothing.

The kneeling woman stood up. She was not a relative, as I had first supposed, but simply a neighbor, a friend that the servant had asked to come when she saw that her mistress was weakening. This woman had offered to watch over the body. The old woman, she told me, had passed away without suffering. We discussed together what dispositions to take for the burial and funeral ceremony. As was often the case in this lost countryside, it was up to me to decide everything. I was a bit bothered, I confess, to leave this poor house, which had such a poor appearance, in the care of just this neighbor and this servant child. It did not appear probable that there was some sort of hidden treasure in some corner of this miserable place. But what was there for me to do? In any case I asked if the old woman had any heirs.

The neighbor then took the candle and led me towards a corner of the foyer, and there I could distinguish, crouched in front of the hearth, an uncertain being who appeared to be asleep. The thick mass of her hair almost completely hid her face.

This blind child, a niece, according to the servant, is what the family has been reduced to, it appeared. She would have to be placed in a hospice. Otherwise, I did not know what would become of her.

I did not want to say anything about this in front of her, worried about the chagrin these words might cause her.

“Do not wake her,” I said softly, implying that the neighbor should lower her voice.

“Oh! I do not think that she is sleeping. But she is an idiot, she does not talk and understands nothing of what people say. Since this morning when I came into this room, she has hardly budged. At first I thought that she was deaf. The servant says that she is not, but simply that the old woman, who was deaf herself, never said a word to her or to anyone else. For a long time she had only opened her mouth to eat and drink.”

“How old is she?”

“About 15 years old, I suppose. Beyond that I know nothing more than you.”

It did not immediately come to my mind to take care of this poor abandoned girl myself. But after I had prayed, or more exactly during the prayer that I did along with the neighbor and the young servant who were both kneeling at the bedside and where I was kneeling myself, it suddenly appeared to me that God had placed in my path a sort of obligation and that I could not avoid it without showing cowardice. When I stood back up my decision was made to take the child that same evening, even though I had not clearly asked myself what I was going to do with her subsequently, or to whom I would entrust her. I remained several moments longer to contemplate the sleeping face of the old woman, whose wrinkled and sunken mouth seemed to be pulled by cords, trying to make sure that I wasn’t forgetting anything. Then returning to the side of the blind girl, I told the neighbor of my intentions.

“It would be better if she is not here tomorrow when they come to take the body,” she said. And that was all.

Everything was very simple and without the fanciful objections that people sometimes are pleased to invent. Since childhood, how many times have we been prevented from doing this or that, simply because we heard repeated around us, “That should not be done.”

The blind girl allowed herself to be led like an involuntary mass. The features of her face were regular and attractive enough, but they were perfectly inexpressive. I had taken a blanket from the straw mattress on which she normally rested in a corner of the room underneath an interior staircase that led to the attic.

The neighbor was complacent and helped me to wrap her up carefully, because the clear night was cool. After having lit the lantern of the carriage, I left, carrying this package of flesh without a soul snuggled up against me and from which I only perceived life by the communication of a dark heat.