A few years before, none of them had ever
heard him sing. An accident discovered it to them, and afterwards he sang
for them but little, and never when it was expected of him. He might be
the minister of a dauphin or a fool, but he was now only the mysterious
Parpon who thrilled them. All the soul cramped in the small body was
showing in his eyes, as on that day when he had sung before the Louis
Quinze.
A face suddenly appeared at a little door just opposite him. No one but
Parpon saw it. It belonged to Madelinette, the daughter of Lajeunesse,
who had a voice of merit. More than once the dwarf had stopped to hear
her singing as he passed the smithy. She sang only the old chansons and
the songs of the voyageurs, with a far greater sweetness and richness,
however, than any in the parish; and the Cure could detect her among all
others at mass. She had been taught her notes, but that had only opened
up possibilities, and fretted her till she was unhappy. What she felt she
could not put into her singing, for the machinery, unknown and
tyrannical, was not hers. Twice before she had heard Parpon sing--at mass
when the miller's wife was buried, and he, forgetting the world, had
poured forth all his beautiful voice; and on that notable night before
the Louis Quinze.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105