Letters From My Windmill Read Free

on, the raving old man just shut himself away in his
windmill and lived alone like a caged animal. He didn't even want
Vivette, his fifteen year old grand daughter, around. She only had her
grandfather to depend on since the death of her parents, so the poor
little thing had to earn her living from any farm needing help with the
harvest, the silk-worms, or the olive picking. And yet, her grandfather
still displayed all the signs of loving Vivette, and he would often
walk in the midday sun to see her in the farm where she was working,
and he would spend many hours watching her, and breaking his heart….
    "People thought that the old miller was simply being miserly in sending
Vivette away. In their opinion, it was utterly shameful to let his
grand-daughter trail from farm to farm, running the risk that the
supervisors would bully and abuse her and that she would suffer all the
usual horrors of child labour. Cornille, who had once been respected,
now roamed the streets like a gypsy; bare-footed, with a hole in his
hat, and his breeches in shreds…. In fact, when he went to mass on
Sundays, we, his own generation, were ashamed of him, and he sensed
this to the point that he wouldn't come and sit in the front pews with
us. He always sat by the font at the back of the church with the parish
poor."
    * * * * *
    "There was something mysterious about Cornille's life. For some time,
nobody in the village had brought him any wheat, and yet his windmill's
sails kept on turning. In the evenings, the old miller could be seen on
the pathways, driving his flour-sack laden mule along.
    —Good evening, Master-Miller Cornille! the peasants called over to
him; Everything alright, then?
    —Oh yes, lads, the old fellow replied cheerily. Thank God, there's no
shortage of work for me."
    "If you asked him where the work was coming from, he would put a finger
to his mouth and reply with great seriousness: "Keep it under your hat!
It's for export." You could never get anything more than that out of
him.
    "You daren't even think about poking your nose inside the windmill.
Even little Vivette wouldn't go in there.
    "The door was always shut when you passed by, the huge sails were
always turning, the old donkey was grazing on the mill's apron, and a
starved-looking cat was sunning itself on the windowsill, and eying you
viciously.
    "All this gave it an air of mystery causing much gossip. Each person
had his own version of Cornille's secret, but the general view was that
there were more sacks of money than sacks of flour in the windmill.
    "Eventually, though, everything was revealed. Listen to this:
    "One day, playing my fife at the youngsters dance, I noticed that the
eldest of my boys and little Vivette had fallen in love. Deep down, I
was not sorry; after all, Cornille was a respected name in our village,
and then again, it had pleased me to see this pretty little bundle of
fluff, Vivette, skipping around the house. But, as our lovers had lots
of opportunities to be alone together, I wanted to put the affair on a
proper footing at once, for fear of accidents, so I went up to the
windmill to have a few words with her grandfather…. But, oh, the old
devil! You wouldn't credit the manner of his welcome! I couldn't get
him to open the door. I told him through the keyhole that my intentions
were good, and meanwhile, that damned starved-looking cat was spitting
like anything above my head.
    "The old man cut me short and told me, unfairly, to get back to my
flute playing, and that if I was in such a hurry to marry off my boy,
I'd be better going to look for one of the factory girls. You can
imagine how much these words made my blood boil, but, wisely, I was
able to control myself, and left the old fool to his grinding. I went
back to tell the children of my disappointment. The poor lambs couldn't
believe it; and they asked me if they could go to speak to him. I
couldn't refuse, and in a flash, the lovers went. When they arrived,
Cornille had just left. The