CHAPTER XXIII
THE MISGIVINGS OF ALIDA
At the house in the garden the new servants stood ready, neat andsmiling. My father had written to a Protestant pastor at Grenoble tosend him two maids of his religion. Accordingly two sisters had arrived,Claire and Hermance Tessier, reliable pleasant-faced girls with nofamily ties in Aramon and with the difference of religion to keep themapart from indiscriminate gossipry. The wing of the house where theywere to sleep had formed a part of the wall, possibly even it may havebeen an ancient gateway in the time of the Montmorencies. My father hadjoined it to the main building by a flying bridge of iron roofed withzinc--which was Dennis Deventer's own private contribution to GardenCottage. I had warned him of the nocturnal habits of Linn and herhusband, and he agreed with me that while for Alida's sake they must beserved according to the French fashion, they need not be deprived of thenightly freedom of their own house which was their greatest luxury.
So at the Cottage door we judged it best to leave them. Rhoda Polly andher mother drove home. My father and I withdrew, I to my den, he to hisstudy. If the new tenants of the Garden Cottage had any changes to makeor any fault to find with what had been prepared for them, thealterations could be done quietly and by degrees. Besides, the pale faceof Alida haunted me and I thought that a night's rest would be for herthe surest medicine.
But the general joyousness of the journey up the hill was our best hopethat all would be well. The Bey was gay. Even Linn relaxed when she sawthe noble prospect of the blue Rhone and the little white and greenhouse among the laurels, walled in like a fortress. Hand in hand butsilent Rhoda Polly sat beside Alida as the coachman drove over thebridge and up the winding road, St. Andre looming up a crenellated wallof red and gold above them.
This was the beginning of a wonderful week which, lived in the unseenand unsuspected shadow of disaster, now shines the brighter for thecontrast with what was to come after. The last week of the theatres andbaths of Pompeii was not more memorable, and we who sunned ourselvesupon the limestone slopes of Mont St. Andre thought as little of thefuture as the many tinted crowd of merry-makers who thronged the beachesbetween the city gate and the white sands of Torre del Greco.
They came on the 11th of March, and one week after fell the 18th, a dateever memorable in the history of the cities of France.
Yet how much happiness did we manage to put in between the one day andthe other.
Next morning, that is on the 12th, I was up early, so early that no onewas visible about the Garden Cottage except the two Grenoble maids, whohad settled down to their duties as if they had been on the spot formonths. They were indeed lucky, for few new _bonnes_ come to so clean ahouse--"shining like a soldier's button," averred Claire.
Linn and her husband had doubtless spent the night in making anexhaustive survey of the dwelling, and Linn especially would be full ofdiscoveries. At present they were retired in their own chamber, dozingdoubtless, after their long nocturnal expeditions, and also probablybecause after the awakening of the maids they felt the house no moretheir own.
It was a morning when the chill gusting of the mistral wind hurtled andraved about St. Andre. I had already made friends with the sistersTessier, of whom Claire was housemaid and Hermance cook. Rhoda Polly hadintroduced us and that curious and almost affectionate regard whichsprings up between good servants and friends of the house soon made myvisits very agreeable to them.
They asked counsels of me--as for example, how Monsieur liked hiscoffee, if Madame was more set upon the kitchen or the "lingerie," andhow best to serve Mademoiselle, who, as they had been given tounderstand (probably by Linn), was of chief standing in the house.
I told them that they needed no more than to be good brave girls and allwould go well. But I warned them that both Madame and her husband hadbeen accustomed to many things in the wild countries where they haddwelt, which would be looked upon as strange by a burgher who had neverset a head outside his own wall.
I prepared them for the Bey's occasional absences, and for Linn'srestless wanderings and perpetual rangings of cupboards. They were quitecontented, thanked me blithely, and Claire took up the morning breakfastof rolls and _cafe au lait_ with shining success. All that she had totell when she came down was that Mademoiselle had asked her to rub herfeet in order to awaken her.
Whereupon I pointed the not unuseful moral that what I had said appliedto Mademoiselle also. She had spent her childhood in Africa and thoughthe best and sweetest lady in the world, might do or ask for things thatneed not be repeated outside the house. The Tessiers quite saw thenecessity.
"They are all tattlers in the south," said Claire, "I have heard it frommy friend who had service here. It is different at Nimes or Grenoble,where the families are mostly Protestant."
They knew somehow that my father had once been a _pasteur_ and they hadall the Scottish weakness for a "son of the manse."
When at last Linn began to make her presence heard in the upper story, Iretreated without being discovered, extremely satisfied with mydiplomacy. After all, this transplantation was a hazardous experiment,and all who had taken part in the business must see to it that thelittle foxes did not spoil the vineyard by any side entrance.
I had scarcely begun my task of writing for the day, when I was calledfrom my desk by a message from Alida. It was a cunningly folded note,sealed with the great seal which had been her father's. The brightsplash of red wax occupied quite a third of the back. So, not to tearthe paper, I laid it a moment on the hob, and then with the thinnestblade of my knife, I lifted it cleanly away in one piece. After which Iunfolded the rustling sheet.
"Come and see me before anyone else."
That was all and indeed quite enough, for with quick beating pulses Ihastened to obey. Linn was waiting for me at the first turn of thewooded path, and as we paced along together towards Garden Cottage Icould feel the "gleg" inquisitorial eyes of Saunders McKie boring intomy back. I wished Linn had sent over one of the Tessiers on this firstoccasion, but I do not suppose it ever occurred to her to let another dofor Alida what she could do herself.
The Bey was within the walled garden, pacing up and down, revolving inhis mind something which pleased him but little.
"What is it, Keller Bey?" I asked sharply. "Do you not find yourselfcomfortable among us?"
"Too comfortable by half," he grunted, "here are many things which musthave cost much money, and yet I am told by Alida that they are presentsof welcome for which I must not pay--whereupon, of course, Linn agreeswith her, and I who was the right hand of Abd-el-Kader and thoughtmyself indebted to no man, am made in my own eyes a veritable pauper!"
"Keller Bey," I said, "you speak in ignorance of our English customs. Ata house-warming or the taking possession of a new residence, all yourfriends are under obligation to bring their contribution to the home. Itis our way of wishing you good luck and a happy tenancy. Nothing couldbe more unfortunate than any offer of payment for such a service."
"Yes--yes--I understand," he broke in testily, "I suppose I have beentoo long among the black tents. I learn your ways with difficulty. I amsure every one means well, but how am I to do all that thanking? Can Ibow backs at my age and say grace for what I would rather have donewithout?"
"You cannot," I said, laughing at his perturbed face, "for we do nottell the name of the givers lest it should bring ill-luck. But where isAlida?"
Alida, it seemed, was in the pleasant gable parlour which, with so muchanxious forethought, we had fitted up for her. She had been arrangingher books on the shelves, and was now going from picture to picture andfrom window to window.
She gave me both hands when she saw me and said immediately, "Angoos,who would have thought that we had among us at Autun such an observantboy! You have reproduced my room there with hardly a change, save thepictures and the pottery. Has your father let them to us along with thehouse?"
"No," I said, "they are loving gifts from Madame Deventer, and as forthe arrangement, Rhoda Polly did that, questioni
ng me as she went, andforcing me to recall exactly whether I would or not."
"I sent for you," said Alida, "to tell me all about this family who havebeen so kind, so that I may make no mistake. And first, why did only thewomen come?--where was Monsieur Hugh, who dwelt with us at Autun?"
I explained to her the mystery of a great factory, where were thousandsof men all doing different things, and how Hugh, though but a smallwheel in such a mechanism, could not leave his post at will withoutinterfering with the work of many others.
I sketched rough, strong, imperious Dennis to her. Rhoda Polly purposelysomewhat vague, because I knew that she would soon enough find out aboutRhoda Polly for herself. But I made word cameos of Hannah and Liz andconcluded with a full-length portrait of Mrs. Deventer, in whom I hoped(though I took care not to say so) Alida would find the mother her youthhad lacked.
She listened with lowered eyes and a silent attention as if she wereweighing every word.
"Yes," she said, "I shall like them all. I feel sure--or almost."
Then she asked suddenly, "Does Rhoda Polly sing? Can she play?"
"In a way," I answered lamely enough; "she has had the usual lessonsbefore she went to college, but her voice has never been trained."
"Is she very clever?"
"Yes, at driving nails, hanging pictures, laying down carpets, andgetting a house ready--I never saw anyone to match her."
"But I mean--she is very learned--will she look down upon me who have tostep carefully among abysses of ignorance?"
"Alida," I said earnestly, "she is likely to spoil you far more than isgood for you. The others will do so also, but you will find that RhodaPolly will win your heart more than all of us put together."
"I do not think so," said Alida composedly.
And then, struck by the astonishment in my face, she continued, "I shallnot like her if you praise her so much!"
"Do not be foolish, Alida," I said, "you should have heard me praisingyou to Rhoda Polly when I got back from Autun. It took me nearly onewhole day, and ever since she has been painting, varnishing, andscrubbing, that the nest should be worthy of such a bird of Paradise asI described."
"Oh, I know," pouted Alida, "she is infinitely better than I, moreunselfish, and--and--you love her!"
"She is certainly more unselfish," I said, firing up; "you have yet tolearn what the word means. Perhaps that partly explains your charm, butall the same you must love Rhoda Polly."
"Because _you_ do?"
I was tempted to deny my gods and declare that I did not love RhodaPolly, when the remembrance of a particular smear on her nose one day ofmutual paintwork on opposite sides of a fireplace, and a way she had ofthrowing her head back to toss the blonde curls out of her eyes, stoppedme.
"Of course I love Rhoda Polly, and so will you (and more than I loveher) when your eyes are opened!"
And with that I left Alida to digest the fact of her own selfishness. Atthe time I considered myself a kind of hero for having so spoken. Now Iam not so sure. She was what Keller and Linn had made her, and I oughtto have remembered the snubs and rebuffs which she must have sufferedfrom Sous-Prefecture dames and other exacting though respectable ladiesof Autun.
* * * * *
This week held many other matters and the seeds of more. Rhoda Pollycame to take Alida out in her mother's Victoria, and spent a long day inthe garden instead, sending back the coachman to be ready to take Mrs.Deventer to the works to drive her husband home to lunch, as was herdaily custom.
I do not know what the girls said to one another. I kept out of the way,but when I came into the dining-room with my father a little beforenoon, I was certain that Alida had been crying and that Rhoda Polly hadbeen dabbing her eyes with hasty inexperienced fingers.
I thought this no ill sign of coming friendship, and indeed it was notan hour before I received a first confidence on the subject from Alida.
"She is all you say and more. She makes me so ashamed of myself!"
"So she does me!" I answered, thinking of my dealings with Jeanne andour walk home from the restaurant of Mere Felix.
Alida held out her hand quickly.
"Does she make you feel that too?--I am glad," she said, and smiledgratefully like a child consoled.
Then came Rhoda Polly's mother, and my father, who had been talking toRhoda Polly by the sundial, rose and with a word and smile excusedhimself and went indoors. The interview that followed I should haveloved well to watch and hear. But after all I doubt if any great part ofthe gentle influences which rained from Mrs. Deventer could have beenwritten down. No stenographer could take note of those captivatingintonations, the soft subtle pauses of speech, the lingering tenderunderstanding in her motherly eyes, the way she had of laying her handupon Alida's.
She had been a counsellor to many, and had never forgotten a sore hearteven when healed, nor told a tale out of that gracious confessional.
Certain it is that the conquest of Alida was soon made, in so far asMrs. Deventer could make it. They saw each other every day, and thesight of Rhoda Polly and Alida striking across the big bridge with thewind right in their faces--or of Alida, with Linn, like a gauntwatch-dog, thrusting a combative shoulder into the mistral to fend a wayfor her charge--became familiar on the windy sidewalks of the greatsuspension bridge.
All went as we could have wished it, till one day I took the Bey acrossto go over the works. Dennis Deventer was to afford enough time toconduct us in person. It was no small honour, for visitors weregenerally either refused altogether, or handed over to Jack Jaikes withinstructions that they should see as little as possible.
I was wholly at ease about the meeting of the Bey and Dennis Deventer.Two such fighters, I thought, could not but be delighted with oneanother.
I was only partly right. They met with mutual respect. Dennis had beenin Algeria at a more recent date than the Bey, and could give news ofdeaths of chiefs, of successions disputed and consequently bloody, andof all the tangled politics of the South Oran.
But once in the hum and turmoil of the works, the power-straps runningoverhead like lightning flashes, the spinning lathes, the small busymechanisms installed on tables and set going by tiny levers, the Bey'sattention wandered. Instead of attending to the wonderful fittings andthe constant jingle of the finished parts, he seemed to search out eachman's face, in a manner to compel their attention. Usually when avisitor goes round with the "chief," the men make it a point of honourto turn away their eyes almost disdainfully. But it was different withthe personally conducted trip of Keller Bey. At him the men gazed withsudden evident respect, and we were not half-way through the first roombefore the whisper of our coming ran far ahead of us through theworkshops.
I could see nothing about Keller Bey to explain this sudden interest. Hedid not make masonic signs with his hands. He hardly spoke a word. Henever looked at the men who were devouring him with their eyes. All Icould see was that he wore the red tie habitual to him, clasped by alittle pin made of two crossed standards drooped upon their _hampes_,one red with rubies and the other formed of black diamonds. It was theonly jewellery Keller Bey ever wore and naturally, since I had neverseen him without it, it seemed a part of him like his collar-stud or hissleeve-links.
Dennis Deventer, who never missed anything in the works, noted the men'sbehaviour, but continued his exposition of the secret of preventing thejamming of the mitrailleuses.
"I am a little late with my invention," he said, "I shall have to waitfor the next war to make my demonstration complete."
"You may not have to wait so long as you think!" said the Bey quietly."Had you not a little private war of your own a month ago?"
The time was so ill chosen as to make Keller's reference almost adisaster. There were men within earshot who had driven the troops of theRepublic out of Aramon, perhaps even some who had assaulted the house ofthe Chief Director.
"We had some little trouble like other folks," said Dennis Deventerlightly, "but we have forgotten all
about that!"
"Ah!" said the Bey reflectively, as they passed on. In the big gunfoundry a huge Hercules of a fellow, naked to the waist, thrust his waythrough the little crowd about us, seized Keller Bey by the hand,murmured something to us unintelligible. The Bey took no notice beyondnodding briefly to the man. Then turning to Deventer he continuedunconcernedly, "About that feeding gear, you were saying----?"
But Dennis Deventer looked at Keller Bey curiously.
"Did you know that man?" he asked earnestly.
"No, I never set eyes on him before," said the Bey carelessly as before;"is there anything against him?"
"Not exactly," replied Deventer, "but he is one of the most dangerousmen in the works--almost as strong in body as I am myself, and muchlistened to by the men. I wish I could say he leads them wisely."
Keller Bey shook his head gravely, but except repeating that he knewnothing whatever about the foundryman, he uttered no word of excuse orcommendation. However, Dennis Deventer was in no mind to let him off soeasily.
"You are having such a success among the men as I never saw the like of,and would not have believed if I had not seen with my own eyes. Have youbeen to St. Etienne or Creusot? Many of our fellows come from there. Itis possible that they may recognise you."
"I have never been in either place in my life," said Keller Bey simply,and so cut off discussion.
But I could see that a doubt remained and brooded upon the spirit ofDennis Deventer. He brought the visit abruptly and ratherdisappointingly to a close, by saying that there was a man waiting forhim in his office. But as men were always waiting to see Dennis Deventerat any hour of the day, his taking himself off must have been an excuse.I felt vaguely to blame. Indeed, I was wholly at sea, the more so whenjust outside the great gates of the Small Arms Company's yards Kellerwas met by half a dozen workmen of a superior sort, who saluted himrespectfully and asked for a private interview.
I said I should go and wait for him at the bridge-end, and he kept mewaiting for an hour and a half, which I would much rather have spentwith Rhoda Polly. Keller Bey was altogether too much of a responsibilityin Aramon-les-Ateliers. If he had further visits to pay on this side, hecould find his way himself, so far as I was concerned. I would not wastea whole morning only to get myself suspected by Rhoda Polly's father.
I sat down on the parapet and watched the drowsy _douaniers_ at thereceipt of custom, or the still drowsier fishermen dropping baited linesinto a seven-knot current, which banked itself up and then swirled highbetween the piers.
And lazying thus in the sunshine, I cast my mind over many things, butparticularly I thought of Hugh. Had I indeed lost Hugh Deventer? Why washe no longer my faithful confidant and comrade as of old? Had we gonetogether to the wars, slept under one blanket, only to bring about thisseparation? Even to-day I had not seen him. Had he of set purpose hidhimself away?
Certainly he was no more the dreamily affectionate companion, a littleslow in comprehension but rapid and accurate in execution, upon whosethews and muscles I had been wont to depend. Hugh Deventer was lost tome. More than that, he could hardly any more be said to belong to thefamily circle at Chateau Schneider. He had furnished a room for himselfdown at the works, where he read and slept. His meals were cooked by thewife of the chief night-watchman and at home no one was surprised. Forthe Deventers were, even before coming of age, in fact as soon as theyhad left school, a law to themselves. And I think that Dennis wassecretly pleased at his boy's setting up for himself.
But I knew that Hugh was not driven by any noble desire forindependence. Sitting there in the warm sun which beat upon the bridgeparapet, I set aside one possible cause for our estrangement afteranother.
It was not on account of Jeanne or Rhoda Polly. No jealousy possessedHugh Deventer because I sat at his father's table far oftener than hedid. One reason only could explain all the circumstances. He had been atAutun and had supposed that Alida's idea of coming to the Garden Cottagehad originated with me. Evidently he had resented this, and since ourreturn he had kept himself, in all save the most formal fashion, apartfrom all the rejoicing over the new tenants.
Obviously he must consider himself in love with Alida, which was, ofcourse, wholly natural and within his right. But why vent his humourupon me? I could not make Alida return his love, and certainly sulkingin the holes and corners of a factory would do nothing to soften theheart of that imperious little lady. He had indeed become little morethan a memory to Alida.
"I don't think Hugh likes me," she said, more than once. "He never comesto see me--not even to tell me how selfish I am!"