CHAPTER XVI
MARIE JOSEPHINE IS READY
Spring had come early in Paris. It was a fortnight since Dian had goneto the alley and found Rosanne, since the wonderful evening when theyhad sat by the poor little fire of broken boxes and talked and talked.There they were in the heart of a city that had gone mad, one of them inhiding to save her life, all of them in gravest danger if once theirreal purpose were known, but all of them so happy.
When it was time for the two girls to go to sleep on their cot, Humphreyand Dian went up to the room above and sat, one on each side of thetable, pondering what it was best to do.
"Th' lad is there in the bakery shop. Tha found his poor note in th'cake. The Lord is good. What a way! Odds me, what a way!" Humphreymuttered to himself. His heart was full, but some of his burden hadrolled away. This quiet shepherd of the valley was at hand to help. Heknew where Lisle was imprisoned and they could take counsel together.
Dian knew no English, and Humphrey's French, as we know, was limited;but they managed to converse, and from the first they understood eachother.
"I have a friend of many a year who would be fair willin' to help uswith a boat. He's a skipper of his own vessel, the _Sandlass_. They'vemade young master Lisle's mother prisoner in her aunt's house. It is notsafe for any of the family to be in Paris," said Humphrey.
"It is not safe for any of the family to be in France, not for any ofthem." Dian repeated the last words slowly, adding, "It soon may beunsafe in Pigeon Valley!" He was silent for a few minutes, and a deepgravity touched his face, an earnestness that was like a prayer. Then,as he looked across at Humphrey and saw the misery on his round face, hesmiled his slow smile.
"You have done well and you speak words of comfort. Tell me the name ofyour friend who owns the boat and write him a letter," he said.
Humphrey Trail looked at Dian in amazement.
"His name is Anastasius Grubb. But what good will that do? Tha knowswell there is no way to send a letter through the gates, or to be sureit will reach my friend!" he exclaimed.
"I'll see that the letter goes through the gates safely, and that it isgiven to the driver of the coach which goes nearest to the valley. I cantrust him to give it into the hands of some one who will put it in thehands of your friend the skipper!"
"Tha can do this? Tha can trust the letter to go through?"
"Yes, trust," Dian nodded as he spoke.
That was the conversation that Humphrey Trail and Dian held in therat-haunted room in the alley.
* * * * *
A fortnight later the first breath of spring that they had felt there inthe sunshine by the West Barricade had deepened into joyousness inPigeon Valley. A faint flare of green touched the tops of trees in theforest, and a gleam of mauve and gold showed the early budding ofviolets and crocuses. There was a happy carnival of song birds earlyevery morning. The sun was warm at noontime, and the nights were softlyluminous.
There was spring everywhere, except in the hearts of the family at LesVignes. There had been no arrival of the messenger for whom they hadwaited throughout the long winter. The comtesse had sent them no word,and that meant that she had not been able to do so. There had beenrumors now and then, even direct news, of the horrors of Paris, broughtby traveling peddlers, but there had been no news from Dian at all.
It was of this that Marie Josephine was thinking as she put Great-auntHortense's shawl around her, and walked down the staircase at LesVignes. It had been the hardest thing to bear, not hearing from Dian.She had felt so sure that he would find a way to help.
There was a look on Marie Josephine's face which had never been therebefore, a seriousness in her eyes and about her mouth, a look of highpurpose and of dignity. Madame le Pont noticed it as she came into thesalon. They were all sitting about a fire of crisply burning logs, forthe spring nights were cold.
"What is it, Marie Josephine?" she asked, and as she spoke the governessrose from her chair and came up to her.
"What do you mean, Le Pont dear? What is what?" Marie Josephine saidgently, and she put her arm around Madame Le Pont's waist and placed hercheek close to hers for a moment. There was something so wistful in theaction that the governess felt sudden tears springing to her eyes.
"You are different in some way, cherie. You seem so--what shall Isay--so very much a woman to-night." Madame le Pont smiled as she spoke,for she knew that her remark would please her pupil greatly. She wassurprised at Marie Josephine's reply.
"I was just thinking about that to-night--being a woman, I mean. I waswondering how it might have been"--her voice trembled a little as shespoke--"if we'd just gone on as we were, here and in Paris; if therehadn't been a revolution, and just the same everyday things hadcontinued to happen. I was wondering what kind of a ball I should haveattended for my first one, and if I should have been a belle!"
"You would have been as lovely as your Great-aunt Hortense when she wasbelle of Versailles," put in Cecile from her seat by the fire.
"You mean she will be. You speak as though all this were going onforever, Cecile," said Hortense, fastening back a long curl with hertortoise-shell comb.
"Let's dance, Spitfire," suggested Bertran, sliding across the room toher.
Marie Josephine nodded. "Yes, I would like to dance. Will you play forus, Cecile?"
Cecile stood up and went over to the spinnet.
"I'd love to play. See if you can do a gavotte to the shepherd song Iwas trying yesterday. Do open the jalousie, Bertran, the moon is tryingto shine in," she said, seating herself at the old spinnet which hadhelped them all to while away the long evenings during the winter.Cecile needed all her courage these days, for the governess talked morefreely to her than to the others, and she knew that things were comingto a serious pass at Les Vignes. The men on the place were leaving forthe army. Most of them had already gone. There would be no one to tillthe ground. There was no one on whom they could rely, now that Dian hadgone, except Neville, and his only idea of helping was to go again toParis. Dian had gone and they had had no word. Neville must not leavethem.
Marie Josephine enjoyed her dance with Bertran. She wore the soft whitesilk brocade gown that had been made for her thirteenth birthday, and,like Hortense, she had fastened her curls with a comb, a large gilt oneof her mother's which she had borrowed. When they finished, MarieJosephine made Bertran a deep curtsy. She waited until the others weretalking and then slipped out of the room. She drew the thick red silkshawl closely about her as she stepped out on to the terrace.
The moon was almost full, and its light seemed to bring out each leafand twig of the great oak at the foot of the terrace steps withstartling distinctness. As she stood there in the radiance of the moon,she thought she saw something move under the tree. Some one shrank backinto the shadow and moved quickly into the deep underbrush. MarieJosephine waited. She knew that, if it really were any one, after he hadgone through the shrubbery, she would see him cross the clearing thatled to the forest. In a few moments she saw a woman pass rapidly throughthe clearing, making for the wood and going in the direction of thegates. The moonlight had fallen full upon her and there was somethingvaguely familiar about her figure. Marie Josephine stood looking afterher. Why was that figure so familiar? Who could it be? Why had she beenhiding there in the shadow as though she were spying?
Marie Josephine's mind was so full of another thought that she did notdwell long on the apparition of the woman, whoever she might be, formore than a minute. Then she ran down the terrace steps and disappearedin the direction of Mother Barbette's cottage. As she had guessed,Mother Barbette herself was not in the cottage. She had gone to one ofthe hovels to nurse a boy who had hurt his leg. Marie Josephine calledsoftly:
"Jean!"
Jean was sitting on the stone doorstep, but she had not seen him in theshadow of the moon and tree branches. He jumped up and came running toher.
"I've only come for a minute,
Jean. Let's sit on the doorstep. Isn't themoonlight wonderful? We've had so much fun in the moonlight everysummer, haven't we? We've been comrades, Jean, great friends!" MarieJosephine put out the back of her hand as she spoke, and Pince Nez, thecrow, lighted on it with a croak.
"Pince Nez will be two years old in June. Do you remember when Dianrescued him and brought him to the sheepfold? I can just see him now,lying on the shelf with his funny beak open." Marie Josephine strokedthe crow gently, and Pince Nez winked impudently.
Jean was sitting in the shadow, and as Marie Josephine went on speaking,his eyes grew rounder and rounder!
"We must always remember what friends we have been and be happy aboutit. You will grow to be a fine man, Jean. I am sure of that. You mustalways help Grigge. Dian would wish you to." Marie Josephine paused andsat silently looking off at the black outline of the wood.
Suddenly Jean jumped up and stood in front of her.
"Tell me, Little Mademoiselle, tell me what you are thinking about."
"I am thinking how I love Pigeon Valley, Jean." She jumped up also andput her hand on his arm. "I--oh, that's all!"
Jean spoke again, softly and quickly.
"You are thinking of the plan, I know you are. You are going to dothat--no, I won't say it, but no one can hear us." He lowered his voiceto a whisper. "You are going to run away to Paris. I know you are!"
They walked on through the wood path, and when they came to the sundial,she turned and faced him.
"You are always making up mysteries, you funny boy," she said. "I mustrun, for it's past my bedtime. Good night, Jean!" she cried over hershoulder. As she ran toward the house the hot tears chased down hercheeks. It was the hardest thing she had ever experienced, not tellingJean what she was going to do that very night!
Cecile and Denise were sitting in front of a log fire in Cecile'sbedroom when Marie Josephine came in to say good night. Cecile wastalking in her gentle way and she looked up smilingly when MarieJosephine came in.
"I was telling Denise that we must make the best of this wonderfulspring weather, and we've been planning a picnic. What do you say to alunch out of doors in the birch woods soon, and a violet pickingexpedition afterward?"
Marie Josephine nodded. Her tongue was dry, and for the moment she foundit easier to nod than to speak. She had wiped away her tears from herface, but she felt them in her heart.
Denise yawned and stood up.
"I for one am sleepy. Bertran and I had a splendid ride. It is stupid ofLe Pont, though, not to let us go out of the demesne just because thatbailiff person said it was not safe. Why, our roads about Les Vignes arethe safest in the whole world! Good night; and let us each one dream ofthe true loves we are going to have!" Denise laughed gaily and twirledaround on her blue satin bedroom slippers, their crystal bucklessparkling in the firelight.
When she had gone, Marie Josephine sat down on the floor in front of thefire.
"You look so perfectly dear to-night with your hair caught up that way,Marie Josephine. I can shut my eyes and see you as you'll be four yearsfrom now. The red shawl becomes you, too. Just wait, you'll have yourtrue loves, I'm sure of that!" Cecile said, leaning back against thedark brocaded velvet chair.
Marie Josephine turned toward her eagerly. "Do you really think so,Cecile? Ah, tell me," as she went on speaking she came close up toCecile's chair, kneeling with both hands on the arm of it, "Cecile, youwill always love me. You'll always trust me, won't you?" There wassomething so intense in the look she gave her friend that Cecile leanedforward and gazed at her.
"Why yes, yes, of course. What is it, Marie Josephine!" she exclaimed.
"I--oh, nothing--that is, let me just give you a big hug." MarieJosephine put both arms about her friend and hugged her. Then she jumpedup quickly.
"Prote will be tired waiting up for me. Good night, Cecile!" She ranover to the door, then turned and waved her hand toward Cecile, whowaved back. Then she went to her own room.
Prote tucked the bedclothes neatly about her when she said good night.She was one of those who could not think of Marie Josephine's evergrowing up, and she spoke authoritatively as she blew out the candle.
"You must be careful about the chill night air, Little Mademoiselle. Itis not good, you know. Keep well covered, and do not, I beg of you, goover to the window to see the moon!" Prote's round face was serious. Shefelt a great responsibility toward all the children, especially theyoungest one, the Little Mademoiselle.
"Come here a minute, you funny Prote. Now bend over and I'll squeeze youtight. Prote, look at Trudle. Hasn't she a smug face? Never let themknow that she sleeps with me. Can't you fairly see their horror! 'She isnearly fourteen and she sleeps with her doll!' Prote cherie, you are adear and I love you. Here's one more squeeze! Good night."
Prote returned her charge's embrace fervently, and then went over to thedoorway. As she went out she looked back at the little figure in thegreat bed.
"Good night, Little Mademoiselle. God guard you!" she said.
Marie Josephine lay very still, the wooden-faced doll beside her. Sheheard a clock strike ten and then eleven, and after waiting a fewmoments, jumped lightly out of bed, and going over to the door, boltedit. Then, aided only by the moonlight streaming in through the widecasement near her bed, she went over to a cupboard and, standing on achair, reached back as far as she could and lifted out a box. She jumpeddown and went over to the bed with the box and opened it. She drew out ashabby, rather soiled, black calico apron. She began to dress herselfrapidly, discarding her lace-trimmed petticoat and putting on plaingarments such as a peasant child would wear. Over them she put theblack, smocklike apron. She went over to the dressing table, and openinga drawer, fished about until she found a pair of scissors. Then shebegan to clip her hair. It fell in soft, warm waves on to her shouldersand thence to the floor. When she had finished, she looked into theglass and by the light of the moon was able to see herself plainly.
She saw a pale little girl with big, black eyes, whose ragged,unkempt-looking black locks flapped about her face! She smiled into theglass and the forlorn, black-clad figure smiled back at her. Then sheput on a warm, worn jacket with a torn sleeve, tucked a blackhandkerchief about her neck and tossed back her uneven wisps of blackhair. She took a bundle from the box on the bed and, after one glanceabout the room, unbolted the door and went out, closing it softly behindher.
She crept along the hall until she came to Madame Le Pont's room. Shestopped by the closed door and wrapped a note about the knob. Afterwaiting a moment and listening, she went back to her own door. There wasa whine and a scratch on the other side. It was Flambeau, who had sleptsoundly while she was dressing, but who had awakened and missed her.
"Listen, Flambeau," she breathed through the keyhole. "I'd love to takeyou with me, doggie, but I'm going where you couldn't go. I want you andJean to go along more than, more than----" Her voice trailed into a softsob. This would never do. She turned away and ran silently and swiftlythrough the great house, unlocked a small door leading on to a littlebalcony over the rose garden, and jumped lightly down a distance of afew feet on to the soft new grass of the east terrace.
Then she was off like the wind, her bundle under her arm. She lookedback once at the great house, so silver white under the moon. Sheentered the wood, so fresh and wild and sweet, on this early springnight. Startled wild things in the bushes stirred and scampered at herapproach. She must do one thing--she must have one last look at MotherBarbette's cottage. She stopped running as she caught sight of itthrough the budding trees. There it was, so warm and snug and red withits straight, quaint stone chimney, its neat stone doorstep. MarieJosephine looked and looked at it as though she could never look longenough or hard enough. Then she turned and walked slowly away. As sheentered the wood path again, she thought she saw something moving in theshadow. She had thought the same thing on her way to the cottage. Shecould not be frightened in her own woods of Les Vignes, but she startedto run, and ran on and on, taking the cut through the hedge
near thegates as Dian had done, and, like him, going to the huts. She did notknock as he had done, but put her mouth close to the keyhole.
"Grigge!" she called, very softly. Almost before she knew it the dooropened and Grigge's gaunt, long face peered through the opening. When hesaw Marie Josephine he came out and closed the door. He did notrecognize her at first, and when she spoke his astonishment was so greatthat he rubbed his eyes with his jacket sleeve and stared at heropen-mouthed.
"Listen, Grigge, I have only time to speak a word with you. I am goingto find Dian, and to help him and the others, if I can. I want you toknow. And, Grigge," she came a step closer and looked up at himearnestly, "I feel that you can do so much here among the people. ForDian's sake, help us now. I know that everyone is leaving us, and thatthere is wild talking in the barns and through the fields. Grigge, Iknow that you have nothing to be grateful for to us, but will you nothelp us now? Stay and care for Dian's sheep. Do not join the wild crowdsin the townships." She touched his arm in farewell and was off, flyingdown the road as though her feet had wings.
Grigge stood looking after her, so dazed that he could not credit hissenses. He had come out half asleep and found a shock-haired peasantgirl at his door who had spoken to him with the voice of the LittleMademoiselle! What was it she had said? Do not join the wild crowds inthe townships! Little she knew of those crowds, or of anything but easeand luxury. She was right, he had nothing to be grateful for to a SaintFrere. He hated them root and branch. He stood looking after MarieJosephine as she sped away along the moonlit road, as though he couldnot believe his eyes. Where was she going, and what did it mean? Thensome of her words came back to him: "Stay and care for Dian's sheep!" Hewent into the close hovel and threw himself down on his oat-strawshakedown.
Marie Josephine ran and ran until she could run no more. At last shesank down in the shadow of a newly-budded oak, breathing hard, herbundle at her side. As she sat there she heard a sound which surprisedher, a sound of swiftly running steps which might almost have been anecho of her own! She shrank back farther in the shadow. Some one wasrunning toward her through a dark side path of a meadow close to theroad. She stood up, took a step forward, and cried, "Jean!"
He sank down under the tree and for several seconds could do nothing butpant painfully. At last he took one deep, long breath and spoke.
"I almost lost you. You led me such a dance! You ran as though you hadlightning in your shoes. I even called to you and begged you to wait,but you did not hear!"
Marie Josephine was so glad to see him that she could not speak. Finallyshe said:
"You came; but how did you know?"
"I just thought it was to-night from the way you spoke when we sat thereon the doorstep. I knew that, because of Petite Mere, you would neverlet me come with you, but I've come, I've come. I've never been anywhereat all, and now I'm going with you. I'm going to take care of you! We'vecome a long way and we can't go back! I watched for you by the terrace.I crept out when I heard Petite Mere snoring. Then when I saw you, Ifollowed you. I hid behind the hedge while you talked with Grigge. Nameof a name, but he was dumb with surprise. I ran near you along themeadow, but you went so fast and I stumbled twice and fell. I'm goingwith you. You can't stop me. I'm going all the way!"
Marie Josephine jumped up and took his hand. She was so glad that he hadcome that the tears brimmed over and rolled down her cheeks.
"It's naughty, it's awful--it's wonderful! Oh, I'm so glad you've come.We must not waste another second here. We must not rest at all untildaylight."
They started to walk at a swift pace, holding hands, the bundle floppingover Jean's shoulder. All about them was the sweetness and mystery ofthe night, and before them, the lure of adventure!