CHAPTER XIII
PIGEON VALLEY AGAIN
"Jean, you must not be sulky. I have told you before that you are agreat baby. I only played and pretended to be happy. I shall never be sostupid again."
Marie Josephine and Jean were swinging on the gates of Les Vignes,enjoying the keen rush of air about their faces as they swung back andforth. It was a week since Dian had left in the night and they missedhim sadly.
"It doesn't matter whether we miss Dian or not, if only he can be ofcomfort to maman and Lisle," Marie Josephine went on. "I heard the mantalking to Nannette. You know, the man who brought the news about theking. They have killed the king and the man said that they would killthe poor queen. Lisle will run away and fight for the queen, even if heis only fifteen. I know he will. Lisle, Lisle, I want to see you somuch!"
"You are not the same since Dian left. You will not play, and you lookas though you were thinking all the time," said Jean, biting into awizened apple.
"I am thinking, Jean. When Neville came back that night that we hadsupper on the terrace, he brought us no good news. I have not been happysince."
Jean jumped down from the gate, and held it so that it stopped swingingback and forth. He looked up at Marie Josephine.
"What is your thought, Little Mademoiselle? Tell me what it is; pleasetell little Jean!" He looked so young as he stood there. Marie Josephinegave her head an impatient shake, so that the blue hood of her cape fellback on her shoulders.
"Your cousin Grigge is coming this way, Jean," she said.
Grigge came up to them along the bleak, frozen road. He would havepassed them by with a sort of half nod to Marie Josephine and a scowlfor Jean, had not Marie Josephine called out to him:
"Will you not come and speak with us, Grigge? We have been talking ofDian the shepherd, and we wish that we could see him."
Grigge had never spoken with the Little Mademoiselle before although hehad seen her every summer, and she had always given him a pleasantgreeting. He was so eager for news of Dian, that he came up to them atonce.
"You have heard from him, Mademoiselle! Tell me that you have had word!"He came close to the gates and looked up eagerly at Marie Josephine.
She shook her head. "There is no news of him, but he has only been awaya week. We are sure that he is happy, wherever he is. Nothing but goodcould happen to Dian."
Grigge clasped his hands together in his eagerness.
"No, no, you are right. Nothing could happen. He will come back," heexclaimed.
Marie Josephine nodded emphatically.
"Jean and I will walk with him across the meadows at sunset, and he willhave so many wonderful things to tell us about his adventures!"
Grigge looked at her wonderingly, at the fineness of her blue cape, thedelicate contour of her face, her carefully brushed curls, her straightblack velvet frock. He had never been close up to any one like herbefore. She was so unlike anything in his own life that she might havecome from another world. When she told him that no news had come fromDian, his face fell. All the week he had felt a weight of lonelinessupon him. He had taken faithful care of the sheep and he had been proudof the task, but the one person who made life bearable for him had goneaway.
Marie Josephine looked at Grigge with interest. What a pale, thin boy hewas, and what big eyes he had! She felt a lump in her throat as shelooked at him. Marie Josephine was beginning to wake up. She wasbeginning to realize that there was something in the world besides thehouse in Paris and Les Vignes, governesses and bals masques. She wasseeing Grigge for the first time, not just as a poor, ragged lad livingin one of the hovels at the very gates of her home, but as some one whowas unhappy and worried and in need of comfort, as she was herself.Feeling this way about Grigge was so new to her that she did not knowwhat to make of it.
"Do you miss Dian so much?" she asked him.
He nodded, his face working as though he would cry.
"He has gone to help my brother. He told Jean and me a story about aprince. It came to him suddenly, and he told it to us. He called Lislehis prince, and he said he felt that he was in trouble." MarieJosephine's voice shook, and the tears sprang into her eyes in spite ofherself.
Grigge sneered in the way he so often did when he spoke to his cousinJean. He was hungry and cold. The wind whistled through his tatteredcoat. So that was it! Dian had gone away to help some one who had neverdone anything for him, who probably did not need him at all!
"Why should he go to your brother? What has he ever done for him? Whathave any of you ever done for us? You have done nothing but starve us!My father had to spend his nights beating the swamps so that the frogswould not disturb your people's sleep!"
Grigge spoke so fast that he jumbled all his words together. His eyessnapped oddly in his gaunt face. He had not meant to burst out in thatway. The words seemed to come almost without his knowing it. It was abitter, dark winter. They had nothing and, he felt sure, never wouldhave anything but bitter want. He felt jealous, too, when he saw hiscousin Jean. He always had been jealous because Jean lived within thegates, and had better food than he.
Marie Josephine's eyes were full upon him. They were filled withastonishment, but not anger. She was too interested to be angry.
"Dian maybe is risking his life! There are terrible times in Paris. Weheard from the peddler that they have killed the king. Your brother isnot worth as much as Dian's staff!" Grigge went on excitedly.
Jean flung himself from the gate and pitched into Grigge before eitherhe or Marie Josephine could think. He had been swinging back and forthand listening, and when Grigge said that Lisle was not worth as much asDian's staff, he was ready to spring! The two boys rolled over and overon the hard ground. Jean knew that he was getting the worst of it, buthe did not mind. He was fighting for the Little Mademoiselle, and hegloried in it. Let her say again that he was only a baby, and that hewould never grow up! She would see that he could avenge her! She wouldsee that no one could insult her brother in his presence, even if hewere only little Jean!
Marie Josephine's voice rang out sharply in the clear, frosty air.
"Stop! Do you hear me? I say you are to stop. Do not dare to hurt littleJean, Grigge!"
Grigge had Jean upon the ground and was pounding him with his fists.
Marie Josephine ran over to the two boys.
"It would break Dian's heart to see you," she cried. Grigge immediatelyleft off pounding and stood up, and after a moment Jean followed hisexample. Grigge looked sullen and sheepish, but Jean's little faceglowed. Marie Josephine had given him a look of approval.
They stood there, the three of them, in the pale wintry sunshine. MarieJosephine looked straight into Grigge's eyes. She held her blue cloakabout her shoulders, her curls blew in the wind, and on her white,earnest face was a look that had never been there before.
"I didn't know, Grigge. I am just waking up to--oh, so many things! Youare not the only one who has trouble now, remember that. We must all tryto help each other." As she spoke, she turned away toward the gates, butGrigge's voice followed her.
"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle," he cried.
Late the next afternoon Marie Josephine sought Jean at the cottage. Hewas alone, sitting on the settle by the fire, and he was just finishinghis early supper of onion soup. Mother Barbette had gone to the hovel totake some soup to Grigge's youngest sister, who was ailing.
Marie Josephine shut the door behind her and came over and sat on thesettle, well pleased to find that Jean was alone.
"It is soon time for me to be dressed for our supper, so I can only stayfor a very little while. I have been thinking some more, Jean, and I amgoing to tell you what I have planned to do." She looked at him veryearnestly as she spoke. "I think I shall tell you--if only I can bequite, quite sure that I can trust you. Now do not frown. You mightforget and let a word slip. Will you promise me that you will never,never let any one know what I am going to tell you?" She put both handson his shoulders as
she spoke and her eyes shone with eagerness.
Jean nodded vigorously. He would not mention what he had done, not he.She had seen him pitch into Grigge, a big boy, who was known to be afighter. She knew that he was not so young as she had thought. He couldkeep his own counsel too.
"I'll never tell, never, never, never," he assured her.
She went over to the door, opened it, and looked out to make sure thatno one was coming. A shriek from above the door made her jump, but itwas only Pince Nez the crow.
Marie Josephine walked over to the fire and poked one of the logs withher little bronze shoe. There was some snow on the shoe and it fell intothe logs with a sizzling sound.
"It is like this, Jean," she said. "I've thought about it so many times,lying awake at night, and even when sitting with the others around thedrawing-room fire after our supper, while Hortense and Le Pont workedover their tapestries and Cecile read aloud. Oh, Jean, I was onlythirteen last week, but I feel older than any of them now. It makes meso sad when I see Le Pont doing the tapestry lilies on the screen thatshe has been working on for four years in the summers at Les Vignes, andremember how different it all was when she began it." Marie Josephinechoked back a sob.
"Yes, but tell me what it is that you are thinking about," insistedJean, as Pince Nez lighted suddenly on his shoulder and gave his ear afriendly little peck. "You are thinking of Madame your mother and ofMonsieur Lisle, is it not so?" As he said this, he came over to the fireand stood beside her, frowning.
"I do not know whether to tell you or not----" Marie Josephine began,but she was interrupted by Jean's angry words:
"You are going to say again that I am a baby and I will not bear it. DidI not fight my cousin Grigge for the sake of you all, this very day?"Jean gulped down a sob and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his blacksmock.
Marie Josephine patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"You were splendid, a real friend. I was proud of you. Yes, I am goingto tell you. I have a plan which I must carry out." She sat down on thesettle, holding the sides of her cape with both hands, and looked acrossat him. "When the spring comes, Jean," she went on, "I am going to"--hervoice sank to a whisper--"Paris."
Jean's face went blank with astonishment. "You do not mean it! Why youwould never be allowed, never in the world. They would never let yougo!" he exclaimed.
"Don't be stupid, Jean. They will know nothing about it. It is asecret."
"It is not safe to go! You could not do it! You are only a little girl.It would be bad enough for me, who am a boy." Jean enjoyed saying thisvery much and he felt suddenly the older and more experienced of thetwo. He had felt so ever since his fight with Grigge in the morning.
"I tell you that I will go. You cannot understand, for I can tell youonly a little of why I am going," she answered, frowning at him with herstraight, black eyebrows which were so like the old comte's.
"It is not safe to go. The peddler, who told us of the king's death,said it was not safe. He said to go to Paris was to endanger one'slife!" protested Jean, his eyes growing bigger and bigger withexcitement.
"The peddler said many things that were not true. Le Pont is sure thathe could not have spoken the truth. No one would hurt me. I am notafraid," she answered stoutly. "Maman and Lisle are in Paris. Have youforgotten Dian's story about the prince in the dungeon. He has gone tohelp them, and so must I."
"What could you do for them?" Jean was so deeply interested that hespoke loudly, and Marie Josephine held up her hand warningly.
"You must be silent about all this; it is to be a great secret betweenus." She shook her finger at Pince Nez, who had perched himself on thetop of Mother Barbette's four-poster bed. "You are not to tell either,you naughty creature. I do not trust you. I think you are a witch indisguise!"
This seemed so funny to Jean that he fairly doubled up with laughter,rocking back and forth and chuckling loudly. He was so excited that itmade him laugh all the harder and his mother, who at this moment openedthe door, stood and gazed at him in astonishment.
"Why, you silly cabbage, you laugh like a clown. He is indeed a foolishfeather head, is he not, Little Mademoiselle?" Mother Barbette put herarm tenderly about Marie Josephine and she hid her face on the broad,kind shoulder.
"It is so dark and cold. Will summer ever come?" she said. MotherBarbette gave a reassuring little laugh.
"Surely summer is coming, Little Mademoiselle, and with it thesunshine"--and her voice faltered a little as she went on--"and the dearones who are away!"
Something in Mother Barbette's words comforted Marie Josephine. She gaveher a hug and said: "I love you, Mother Barbette. I must run back now,for, as it is, I know that I shall be well scolded by Le Pont for beingout after dark."
"Jean shall go with you through the wood, though there is never any fearfor any one in our woods at Les Vignes, thank the kind God," said MotherBarbette fervently. She stood in the low-arched doorway of the cottagewatching the two children as they made their way toward their favoritewood path which led to the great house on the terrace.
The two friends ran a little of the way and then suddenly Jean stoppedin the middle of the path and caught Marie Josephine's cloak in both hishands. A wild rabbit scudded through the snow, popping behind aglistening, frost-tinted bush. Jean called after it, and then turnedback to look at his friend.
"Listen, Little Mademoiselle. Don't you know what I must do? When you goaway to Paris in the spring I must go with you." He, too, lowered hisvoice to a whisper, and he looked back over his shoulder, as though hefeared that his mother might be right behind them, listening.
Marie Josephine took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake."You will not go. Not for anything in the world would I let you go. Doyou think I would be such an ungrateful girl as that to Mother Barbette?You are never to speak of it again--never!" Marie Josephine was soexcited that she had to take a deep breath before she could go on. "Oh,if only you could! But we must never, never talk of it again!" Her eyesglowed as she spoke, and there was a glad, warm feeling in her heart. Itwas good to have a friend like Jean, even though he seemed so young fortwelve and a half and knew so little of the world beyond Les Vignes!
They reached the wide sweep of terrace and she turned to him quickly. "Imust run, for I am sure they will be angry because it is dark. Le Ponthas grown so fussy and afraid. She cries a great deal, too. Thank youfor saying you would go with me. It can never, never be done. It wouldbe unfair and dishonorable of me to let you go. A Saint Frere could notdo such a thing---- But it would have been fun!"
She was off, running across the terrace like a wild rabbit. Thegoverness was standing at the top of the veranda steps. Marie Josephinecould see that she was frowning.
"You make it so much harder for me these days, Marie Josephine," shesaid, holding her dark satin cloak close about her. The wind sweptacross the porch, making the dry, frozen lily stalks at the side of thehouse crackle oddly. "I am never at ease about you. You never seem to bein the house. To-morrow you will stay inside all day, and you will doextra lessons. You are disobedient and thoughtless!" After she hadspoken Madame le Pont went into the house.
Bertran did most of the talking at supper. He tried to make MarieJosephine quarrel with him, but she did not seem to mind his teasing asshe generally did. She despised Bertran. He was fourteen and yet he didnothing but ride and dance. Ah, if only he were a brave knight who couldgo to Paris and help Lisle! There was instead only little Jean. Herheart warmed toward Jean as she sat next to Cecile in the longdrawing-room after supper. She watched Neville as he went about lightingthe candles. He was dressed in the scarlet and white livery of the oldParis days and his white wig was tied back with a black ribbon. She hadasked him again and again to tell her all that he knew. He had assuredher, with all honesty, that he had left her mother and Lisle safe andwell at the Paris house, and that there was no need for her to bealarmed. But she knew that he did not believe that they were not indanger, and she guessed that he was thankful that Dian had gone to the
m.
Marie Josephine put her head against Cecile's shoulder and looked intothe fire with half-closed eyes. Denise was singing at the old spinnetand Bertran was trying to join in, but his voice sounded as though anymoment it would crack. It was an old country song and there wassomething plaintive and charming about it.
"Bergere legere, je crains tes appas, Mon ame s'enflame, mais tu n'aimes pas!"
Le Pont thought of her only as a naughty little girl. Dear Cecile, herheart was sad; yet she could do nothing but work on her tapestry andpray for her loved ones who were in peril. But she, Marie Josephine, wasgoing away alone to a great city, into the heart of a revolution! Shewas going in the spring!