The Forest of Vazon | Page 3

was a lovely spot. The other portions of the island
were bare and somewhat rugged; here the humidity of the soil favoured
the growth of fine, vigorous timber. On the low ground flourished oak
and sycamore, torn and bent near the shore where the trees met the
force of the Atlantic gales, growing freely and with rich verdure where
better protected. On the higher slopes were massed beech, birch, and
the sweet chestnut which was even then domesticated in the island.
Glades, bursting with a wealth of flowers nurtured by the mildness of
the climate, penetrated the wood in every direction; streams bubbling
up from springs, and forming little cascades where their course was
checked by granite boulders, lent an additional charm. Towards the
centre of the forest these streams united to form a lake, or rather a
natural moat, surrounding an island in the midst of which stood a
gigantic oak. This was the only tree on the island; round it, at even

distances, were placed twelve stones, beyond which a meadow
glittering with varied hues extended to the surrounding water.
It was to this island that the holiday-makers were wending their way:
young men and maidens, and such elders as had vigour enough to
traverse the rough tracks leading from the interior. They were a small
race, lithe and active, with strong black hair and dark eyes now
twinkling with merriment They poured over the wooden bridges into
the precincts of the towering oak, under which the elders seated
themselves with the musicians, the younger people streaming off to the
clear ground between the stones and the water.
When all were assembled the music struck up at a signal from an elder.
The instruments were akin to the goat-skin pipes of Lower Brittany; the
music wild, weird, appealing to the passion if not melodious to the ear.
At any rate the effect was inspiriting. First, the men danced, the
maidens seating themselves round the dancers and chanting the
following words, to the rhythm of which they swayed their bodies
gracefully:--
"Mille Sarrazins, mille Sarmates, Un jour nous avons tués. Mille, mille,
mille, mille, mille Perses, Nous cherchons à present."
The dance, footed to this truculent chant, had no warlike features;
beginning with a march, or rather a tripping walk, it ended with feats in
which each dancer defied his neighbour to out-spring him; nor did the
vocalists appear to expect representations of strife and doughty deeds.
The words, Roman by origin, as is clear from the allusion to the
Persians, had been adapted to a native air by the conquerors, and had
been left by them as a legacy to the islanders. Next, the maidens trod a
measure, the men standing round and applauding; the dance was quiet
and soft, consisting principally of graceful movements of the body as if
the dancers were getting themselves into training for greater efforts; in
this case the dancers themselves chanted words suitable to the music.
This ended, there was a pause before the principal business of the day
began, the dance in which both sexes joined, to be followed by the
bestowal of a wreath on the loveliest of the maidens.

During the pause it was evident that an unusual incident had occurred.
The best-looking of the girls were pouting, the attention of the youths
was distracted. During the latter part of the dance the applause had been
intermittent; towards the close it had almost ceased. The elders, looking
about under their shaggy eyebrows, had not been long in discovering
the cause, and when they had found it allowed their attention to wander
also.
The disturbing element was, indeed, not far to seek. Close to one of the
bridges was seated a maiden, unknown to all of them, but lovely
enough to hold the glance of old and young. Unlike the natives she was
tall and fair; masses of golden hair encircled her oval face and clustered
over her blue eyes. Who was she? Whence came she? None could
answer. By degrees some of the boldest of the youths approached, but
their bluff manners seemed to displease her; though unaccustomed to
rebuffs they retired. One, however, among them fared differently. Jean
Letocq, a member of the family to which the hero belonged who near
this very spot discovered the sleeping troops of the Grand Sarrazin, was
admired and beloved both by youths and maidens. First in every sport,
having shown courage and resource in times of peril both by sea and
land, tender of glance and gentle of tongue, he held a pre-eminence
which none disputed, and which was above the reach of envy. The fair
stranger, from his first glance at her, had fascinated, enthralled him: his
eyes fastened greedily on her every movement; he noted well her
reception of those who