The Curly-Haired Hen | Page 3

for help. Petit-Jacques immediately
opened the big sluice and the water ran out, but much too slowly for
their impatience. At last they began to see the bottom, and soon the

body of poor Yollande was discovered stiff and motionless.
There was general consternation at the farm. Petit-Jacques, by means of
a long pole, seized her and drew her to land at Mother Etienne's feet.
Labrie came up and sniffed sadly at the body of the unhappy hen. In
vain they dried her and rubbed her,--nothing did any good.
"She's quite dead, alas," said Mother Etienne with tears in her eyes,
"but it was my own fault. I ought to have closed down the lattice and
this misfortune would not have happened. It really is a great pity--such
a fine hen. She weighs at least eight pounds. There, Germaine, take her
and weigh her."
Germaine was the maid and also the cousin of Petit-Jacques--of whom
she was very fond. She was a fine buxom girl of eighteen, strong and
well-grown. She loved animals, too, but her feeling for them could not
be compared to Mother Etienne's.
"Germaine, take away poor Yollande, I am quite upset by this trouble.
You will bury her this evening, in a corner of the kitchen-garden--deep
enough to prevent any animal digging her up. I leave it to you--do it
carefully."
The girl bore away the fine hen in her apron. "How heavy she is--it is a
shame," and blowing apart the feathers, she saw the skin underneath as
yellow and plump as you could wish. Mechanically she plucked a few
feathers.
"After all," she said, "it isn't as though she had died--she was drowned,
quite a clean death; she's firm and healthy, only an hour ago she was as
strong and well as could be. Why shouldn't we eat her?--We'll stew her
because, though she is not old, she is not exactly in her first youth--but
there's a lot on her--with a dressing of carrots and nutmeg, a bunch of
herbs and a tomato, with a calf's foot to make a good jelly, I believe
she'd make a lovely dinner."
Saying this she went on plucking Yollande. All the feathers, large and
small, gone, a little down was left, so to get rid of this she lit an old

newspaper and held her over it.
"Madame won't know anything and will enjoy her as much as we shall.
There's enough on her for two good meals."
Quite decided, instead of burying her, she wrapped the future stew
carefully in a perfectly clean cloth and put it on a shelf in the kitchen
out of the way of flies or accident.
During this time Mother Etienne was busy making as warm a home as
she could for the fifteen little orphans. Poor darlings. In a wicker-basket
she covered a layer of straw with another of wadding and fine down.
Upon this she put the ducklings one by one, and covered the whole
with feathers; then closing the lid, she carried the basket to the stable
where the air was always nice and warm. All this took time; it was
about six o'clock in the evening, the sun was going down, throwing a
last oblique smile into the kitchen, gleaming here and there on the
shining copper which hung on the walls.
CHAPTER III
YOLLANDE'S TROUSSEAU
As for Germaine, she, with Petit-Jacques to help her, had gone to milk
the cows. Mother Etienne soon joined them, and the two women came
back to the house together.
Horror of horrors! What a terrible sight. Pale with fear they stood on
the threshold of the kitchen not daring to move--to enter. Their hearts
were in their mouths. A ghost stood there in front of
them--Yollande--and Germaine fell at Mother Etienne's feet in utter
consternation. Yollande? Yes, Yollande, but what a Yollande! Heavens!
Yollande plucked, literally plucked! Yollande emerging from her
shroud like Lazarus from his tomb! Yollande risen from the dead! A
cry of anguish burst from the heart of kind Mother Etienne.
"Yollande, oh, Yollande!"

The Cochin-China replied by a long shudder.
This is what had happened.
On falling into the water, Yollande after struggling fiercely succumbed
to syncope, and her lungs ceasing to act she had ceased to breathe, so
the water had not entered her lungs. That is why she was not drowned.
Life was, so to speak, suspended. The syncope lasted some time. The
considerable heat to which she was subjected when Germaine held her
above the flaming newspaper had brought about a healthy reaction and
in the solitude of the kitchen she had recovered consciousness.
After the first moment of terror was over, Germaine confessed her plan
to Mother Etienne, who, glad to find Yollande still alive, forgave
Germaine the disobedience which had saved her.
But the