Mathieu Ropars: et cetera — A Reader’s Guide

Unanimous was the cry of astonishment and delight. Prisoners in their island, it was several years since Ropars and Genevieve had seen a tree in blossom; and the two little girls could not recall to mind that they had ever seen one. Loudly and both at once, they beset Michael with questions. Was the cherry-tree flowering in gold-colour like the thorn-broom, or in the colour of blood like the sea-furze? How could the blossoms ever become fruit? Must they wait a long time? Would the tree bear the red cherries of the coast, or the black-hearts of the upper country? Dorot cut all these inquiries short, by declaring that he would come over next day, for the whole of the family, that they might see the wondrous tree and dine at the Ile des Morts. The ecstacies of the sisters may be imagined. Their mother could not check their laughing and their clapping of hands. They continued their cry of "to-morrow, to-morrow!" just as Aeneas' look-out men kept up their cry of "Italy, Italy!" when they saw through the empurpled vapours that goal of so many efforts and such longings.

Remarking their impatience, the sergeant proposed to carry them over, that very evening, with Michael. There would be still day-light enough on their arrival, for them to see the cherry-tree covered with its coat of summer-snow, and their parents could fetch them, next day. The children backed this offer with their entreaties; Ropars smiled, without replying; but Genevieve entered her protest against it. What would she do, if Francine and Josephe were away? Many a time ere this, on waking in the middle of the night, she had fretted herself at not hearing their gentle breathings; she had jumped up in agony, and had crept on tip-toe to their bed, to touch them and to listen to them; how would it be then, if they were not there; how could she herself sleep quietly without fancying some danger? She would dream that the powder-magazine was on fire, or that the Ile des Morts was going down like a vessel foundering--and all this was said betwixt a laugh and a tear. The little maidens, bent at first on setting off, were soon hanging on their mother's shoulders, touched by her contagious tenderness, and declaring that they preferred to remain. The artillery-man insisted no longer. He took with Mathieu the path that led down to the sandy shore, and was followed by Genevieve and the children, all silent for the moment.

The sun declining to the horizon lit up the promontory of Kelerne, and painted in the passage of Goulet a stream of purple and gold. A breeze began to play over the bay, and chequered it with undulating ripples. The perfume exhaled from the saps was wafted in puffs of wind from the main land, as were the tinklings of the Angelus, and the lowing of the cattle driven home. A consciousness of strength in repose was perceivable, together with an indescribable air of serenity, that stole from surrounding objects upon the senses, and found its way to the very depths of the soul. The sky, the earth, and the water seemed by mutual consent to have subdued their voices, in order to mingle them in one harmonious murmur. Without analyzing the soft but not enervating influence that surrounded them, the two keepers with their families were alive to its effects. Silently they went down the foot-path, pausing upon their steps, as though to lengthen out the sense of enjoyment, or to taste of it drop by drop. Having, however, reached the boat, it became necessary to part. Josephe made the sergeant promise to come for them early in the morning. The sail at last was hoisted; and the skiff, launched out upon the yielding waves, sped her way towards the powder-magazine.

At the moment when she reached the middle of the channel that separates the two islands, a ship's long-boat, unobserved hitherto in the excitement of leave-taking, appeared to leeward of Treberon. Her peculiar build, her black color traversed only by a single white ribbon at the water-line, and the perfect condition of her spars and sails, would have sufficed to show what she was, even if the costume of the double row of sailors ranged along the thwarts had not betrayed the man-of-war's men. On crossing the skiff steered by the sergeant, she was sheered suddenly off; and by the last glimpse of day-light might be discerned the yellow flag of the Health Office.