Catherine gravely allowed herself to be invested with the supreme command over everything, and took due note of the secret drawers; she questioned her mother with much intelligence, reflected on each answer, and the information she required being obtained, appeared to store it up in the depths of her memory as a weapon in reserve in case of any contest.
After the furniture and household articles had been examined, Dame Billot went on to the cattle, the lists of which were carefully made out.
Horses, oxen, and cows; sheep, whether in good order or sick; lambs, goats, fowls, and pigeons,—all were counted and noted down.
But this was merely for the sake of regularity.
Of this branch of the farm business the young girl had for a long time past been the special administratrix.
There was scarcely a hen in the barnyard of which she did not know the cackle; the lambs were familiar with her in a month; the pigeons knew her so well that they would frequently completely surround her in their flight; often even they would perch upon her shoulders, after having cooed at her feet.
The horses neighed when Catherine approached. She alone could make the most restive of then obey. One of them, a colt bred upon the farm, was so vicious as to allow no one to approach him; but he would break his halter and knock down his stall to get to Catherine, putting his nose into her hand, or into her pocket, to get at the crust of bread he was always sure of finding there.
Nothing was so beautiful or so smile-inspiring as this lovely fair-haired girl, with her large blue eyes, her white neck, her round arms, her small fat hands, when she came up with her apronful of corn to a spot near the pond, where the ground had been beaten and saltpetred to harden it for a feeding-place, and on which she would throw the grain she brought by handfuls.
Then would be seen all the young chickens, all the pigeons, all the young lambs, hurrying and scrambling towards the pond; the beaks of the birds soon made the flooring appear speckled; the red tongues of the young goats licked the ground, or picked up crisp buckwheat. This area, darkened by the layers of corn, in five minutes became as white and clean as the delft-plate of the laborer when he has finished his meal.
Certain human beings have in their eyes a fascination that subdues, or a fascination that terrifies,—two sensations so powerful over the brute creation that they never think of resisting them.
Which of us has not seen a savage bull looking for several minutes, with melancholy expression, at a child who smiles at him without comprehending the danger he is running? He pities him.
Which of us has not seen the same bull fix a sinister and affrighted look on a robust farmer, who masters him by the steadiness of his gaze, and by a mute threat? The animal lowers his head; he appears to be preparing for the combat, but his feet seem rooted in the ground; he shudders; he is terrified.
Catherine exercised one of these two influences on all that surrounded her; she was at once so calm and so firm, there was so much gentleness and yet so much decided will, so little mistrust, so little fear, that the animal standing near her did not feel even the temptation of an evil thought.
And this extraordinary influence she, with greater reason, exercised over thinking beings. She possessed a charm that was irresistible; not a man in the whole district had ever smiled when speaking of Catherine. No young man entertained an evil thought towards her. Those who loved her, wished to have her for their wife; those who did not love her, would have desired that she were their sister.
Pitou, with head cast down, his hands hanging listless by his side, his ideas wandering, mechanically followed the young girl and her mother while they were taking a list of the farm stock.
They had not addressed a word to him. He was there like a guard in a tragedy; and his helmet did not a little contribute to give that singular appearance.