The Erckmann-Chatrian MEGAPACK ®. Emile Erckmann

Eternal. But his wisdom is but folly, and his light darkness.’

      “Oh that day one of Nature’s great mysteries was revealed to me, doubtless with the purpose of humbling my vanity, and of teaching me that nothing is impossible to God, and that it is in His power only to multiply our senses, and by so doing gratify those who please Him.”

      Here the young professor took a pinch from his tortoiseshell snuff-box, raised his eyes to the ceiling with a contemplative air, and then, after a short pause, continued in these terms:—

      “Does it not often happen to you, ladies, when you are in the country in fine weather in summer, especially after a brief storm, when the air is warm, and the exhalations from the ground filling it with the perfume of thousands of plants, and their sweet scent penetrates and warms you; when the foliage from the trees in the solitary avenues, as well as from the bushes, seems to lean over you as if it sought to take you in its arms and embrace you; when the minutest flowers, the humble daisy, the blue forget-me-not, the convolvulus in the hedgerows raise their heads and follow you with a longing look—does it not happen to you to experience an inexpressible sensation of languor, to sigh for no apparent reason, and even to feel inclined to shed tears, and to ask yourselves, ‘Why does this feeling of love oppress me? why do my knees bend under me? whence these tears?’

      “Whence indeed, ladies? Why from life, and the thousands of living things which surround you, lean to you, and call to you to stay with them, while they gently murmur, ‘We love you; love us, and do not leave us.’

      “You can easily imagine, then, the deep enthusiastic feeling and the religious sentiment of a person always in a similar state of ecstasy. Even if blind, abandoned by his friends, do you think there is nothing to envy in his lot? or that his destiny is not infinitely happier than our own? For my own part I have not the slightest doubt of it.

      “But you will, doubtless, say such a condition is impossible—the mind of man would break down under such a load of happiness. And, moreover, whence could such happiness be derived? What organs could transmit, and where could it find, such a sensation of universal life?

      “This, ladies, is a question to which I can give you no answer; but I ask you to listen and then judge.

      “The very day I arrived at the chalet I had made a singular remark—the blind girl was especially uneasy about the bees.

      “While the wind was roaring without Raesel sat with her head on her hands listening attentively.

      “‘Father,’ said she, ‘I think at the end of the apiary the third hive on the right is still open. Go and see. The wind blows from the north; all the bees are home; you can shut the hive.’

      “And her father having gone out by a side door, when he returned he said—

      “‘It is all right, my child; I have closed the hive.’

      “Half an hour afterwards the girl, rousing herself once more from her reverie, murmured—

      “‘There are no more bees about, but under the roof of the apiary there are some waiting; they are in the sixth hive near the door; please go and let them in, father.’

      “The old man left the house at once. He was away more than a quarter of an hour; then he came back and told his daughter that everything was as she wished it—the bees had just gone into their hive.

      “The child nodded, and replied—

      “‘Thank you, father.’

      “Then she seemed to doze again.

      “I was standing by the stove, lost in a labyrinth of reflections; how could that poor blind girl know that from such or such a hive there were still some bees absent, or that such a hive had been left open? This seemed inexplicable to me; but having been in the house hardly one hour, I did not feel justified in asking my hosts any questions with regard to their daughter, for it is sometimes painful to talk to people on subjects which interest them very nearly. I concluded that Young gave way to his daughter’s fancies in order to induce her to believe she was of some service in the family, and that her forethought protected the bees from several accidents. That seemed the simplest explanation I could imagine, and I thought no more about it.

      “About seven we supped on milk and cheese, and when it was time to retire Young led me into a goodsized room on the first floor, with a bed and a few chairs in it, panelled in fir, as is generally the case in the greater number of Swiss châlets. You are only separated from your neighbours by a deal partition, and you can hear every footstep and nearly every word.

      “That night I was lulled to sleep by the whistling of the wind and the sound of the rain beating against the window-panes. The next day the wind had gone down and we were enveloped in mist. When I awoke I found my windows quite white, quite padded with mist. When I opened my window the valley looked like an immense stove; the tops of a few fir-trees alone showed their outlines against the sky; below, the clouds were in regular layers down to the surface of the lake; everything was calm, motionless, and silent.

      “When I went down to the sitting-room I found my hosts seated at table, about to begin breakfast.

      “‘We have been waiting for you,’ cried Young gaily.

      “‘You must excuse us,’ said the mother; ‘this is our regular breakfast hour.’

      “‘Of course, of course; I am obliged to you for not noticing my laziness.’

      “Raesel was much more lively than the preceding evening; she had a fresh colour in her cheeks.

      “‘The wind has gone down,’ said she; ‘the storm has passed away without doing any harm.’

      “‘Shall I open the apiary?’ asked Young.

      “‘No, not yet; the bees would lose themselves in this mist. Besides, everything is drenched with rain; the brambles and mosses are full of water; the least puff of wind would drown many of them. We must wait a little while. I know what is the matter: they feel dull, they want to work; they are tormented at the idea of devouring their honey instead of making it. But I cannot afford to lose them. Many of the hives are weak—they would starve in winter. We will see what the weather is like to-morrow.’

      “The two old people sat and listened without making any observations.

      “About nine the blind girl proposed to go and visit her bees; Young and Catherine followed her, and I did the same, from a very natural feeling of curiosity.

      “We passed through the kitchen by a door which opened on to a terrace. Above us was the roof of the apiary; it was of thatch, and from its ledge honeysuckle and wild grapes hung in magnificent festoons. The hives were arranged on three shelves.

      “Raesel went from one to the other, patting them, and murmuring—

      “‘Have a little patience; there is too much mist this morning. Ah! the greedy ones, how they grumble!’

      “And we could hear a vague humming inside the hive, which increased in intensity until she had passed.

      “That awoke all my curiosity once more. I felt there was some strange mystery which I could not fathom, but what was my surprise, when, as I went into the sitting-room, I heard the blind girl say in a melancholy tone of voice—

      “‘No, father, I would rather not see at all to-day than lose my eyes. I will sing, I will do something or other to pass the time, never mind what; but I will not let the bees out.’

      “While she was speaking in this strange manner I looked at Walter Young, who glanced out of the window and then quietly replied—

      “‘You are right, child; I think you are right. Besides, there is nothing to see; the valley is quite white. It is not worth looking at.’

      “And while I sat astounded at what I heard, the child continued—

      “‘What lovely weather we had the day before yesterday! Who would have thought that a storm on the lake would have caused all this mist?