A Bridge, A Legend

Mathias and Felicity

At the time, Mathias and Felicity loved each other. The two lovebirds spent their days talking from one shore of the Chambly Canal to the other, without ever embracing. She was on her island while he was on solid ground. One day, they recognized each other in the mirror of the calm waters of the canal. Under the reflection of their faces then appeared a cariole drawn by two dashing horses. The swearwords of the carters cursing their animals rang out along the towpath. Mathias and Felicity saw cars create dust clouds as they passed on the road that disappeared under the aging trees. They scrutinized vacationers housed in their makeshift chalets that lined the shore of île Sainte-Thérèse, then the dancing flames in the attic of the candle mill. In the depths of the water, they caught heavy machines loaded with steel beams gather together to form a huge green dam. With their view obstructed by geese flying in formation and gliding under the wave, they continued to scrutinize bicycles and strange characters roller-skating under the summer sun. Mathias and Felicity rubbed their eyes. The night melted away their daydreams. Their eyes no longer sparkled. Their features aged. Under their white hair, they struggled to recognize the children they once were. Panic-stricken and frantic, they looked up. Everything had changed. Their days were counted, and deprived of their fiery youth, they wanted to kiss, but their bodies were rooted to the ground, anchored to the shores of the canal. Mathias’ arms and legs were now nothing more than the sturdy extension of the bank. Felicity, whose fate was the same, made one final effort, by stretching, to reach the lips of her beloved who answered her called. That night, when the moon looked over, it recognized two silhouettes come together forming an arch. That is how the bridge of île Sainte-Marie came to be.