5: THE "MARONNIER"
No herald robin or budding crocus announced that spring was coming toDornblatt. Rather, at first for a few minutes just before and just afterhigh noon and then for increasingly longer periods each day, snow thathad sat on the roof tops all winter long melted and set a miniature rainto pattering from the eaves. The snow blanket sagged, the ski trailscollapsed, and every down-sloping ditch and gulley foamed with snowwater.
The chamois climbed from their hidden valleys to their true home amongthe peaks, birds returned, cattle departed for lofty summer pastures,farmers toiled from dawn to dark--and Father Paul came to visit theHalles.
He arrived while the family was at the evening meal, for during thisvery busy season there was almost no other time when all members of afamily might be together. Franz's father rose to welcome him.
"Father Paul! Do accept my chair and join us!"
"No, thank you." Father Paul waved a hand and smiled. "I have alreadysupped and this fine chair of the Alps shall serve me very well."
Father Paul chose a block of wood from the pile beside the stove,upended it, and seated himself. The elder Halle took back his chair andresumed his interrupted meal.
"I have just returned from Martigny, where I visited Emil Gottschalk,"Father Paul said. "He is greatly improved, and he seems reconciled tothe loss of one of his feet."
"To lose a foot is a bad thing," the elder Halle said seriously.
"But it might have been much worse," Father Paul pointed out. "Were itnot for Franz and Caesar, Emil would have lost his life, too."
"I did nothing," Franz murmured.
He stared hard at his plate, remembering. Both of Emil's feet werefrozen, and there'd been nothing for it except to take him to thehospital at Martigny. He'd been there ever since, and, while Franz wasglad that he would live rather than die, any credit for saving himbelonged properly to Caesar. Franz had his own vexing problem.
Finding Emil Gottschalk had made him a person of no small importance inDornblatt. But why be important when not even his own father would trusthim with any task except cutting wood, and everybody in Dornblatt hadlong since had all the wood they could use? Even skiing in the forestwhile Caesar followed behind or plowed ahead had not occupied all ofFranz's time, and the days had become tedious indeed.
The once-bright dream of becoming a _maronnier_, or lay worker, at theHospice of St. Bernard had faded with the passing of time. If the Priorintended to consider him at all, surely he'd have done so beforethis--and in his own heart Franz did not blame the Prior. Why should thePrior of St. Bernard want anyone whose sole talents consisted of woodcutting and mountain climbing, when his own village did not even wanthim?
"So you did nothing?" Father Paul asked. "The remark does youcompliment, for modesty in the very young is far more becoming than inthe old." He began to tease. "I must say that you are wholly correct.Had you stayed home that night, rather than venture forth with Caesar,Emil would have been rescued anyhow. I haven't the least doubt thatCaesar would have done it all by himself."
Franz murmured, "I'm sure he would."
"Oh, Franz, Franz," Father Paul sighed. "Would that I could teach you!"
"I've tried everything I know," the elder Halle said, a bit gruffly."There simply is nothing more."
"You are too harsh," Father Paul chided him.
"I must be harsh," Franz's father said. "The boy will shortly be a man.Can he take his proper place among the householders of Dornblatt if heknows nothing except how to cut wood, run the forests and climbmountains? Do not condemn me, Father Paul. If I did not love the boy,would I care what happens to him? But I repeat, I can think of nothingmore."
Father Paul said, "I can."
Franz's father and mother turned quickly toward him. His four sistersleaned eagerly forward in their chairs and even Franz was interested. Anunreadable smile played on Father Paul's lips.
"Tell us," Franz's father pleaded.
"Very well," Father Paul agreed. "Had there been no news of Emil, I'dhave had reason to come here, anyway. When I returned from Martigny,there was a message waiting--"
He stopped for a moment, and Franz's father begged, "Father Paul, pleasego on!"
Father Paul smiled. "It was a message from the Prior of St. BernardHospice. Franz has been chosen as a _maronnier_, and he is to report assoon as possible."
"No!" Franz whooped.
His father looked sternly at him. "Please, Franz! Speak quietly or donot speak!"
"Let the boy shout," Father Paul reproved him. "There have been so manydoors to which he could not find the key. At long last, one has swungwide and beckons him in."
Franz's puzzled father said, "I do not understand you."
Father Paul explained. "I mean that, from this time on, Franz may goforward."
"Caesar, too?" Franz asked breathlessly.
"Caesar, too," answered Father Paul. "I promised I'd inquire about yourdog, and I kept my promise. You should know, however, that Caesar willbe expected to pay his way with his work."
Franz exclaimed happily, "Caesar and I like work!"
"Had I thought otherwise, I never would have recommended you," saidFather Paul. He looked at Franz's father and mother. "Well?"
"It's so far," Franz's mother said worriedly, "and so strange."
"It is neither as far nor as strange as you think," Father Paulreassured her. "It is true that the summer is much shorter, the wintersmuch colder and the snow much deeper than you ever know them to be inDornblatt. But, like everyone else who serves at the Hospice, Franz hasbeen reared in the mountains. I assure you that he will fit in verywell."
"He may go," the elder Halle said.
"He--may go," Franz's mother quavered. "How--how shall we prepare himfor the journey?"
"Supply him with enough food and clothing for the walk," Father Paulreplied. "Since snow may fall in St. Bernard Pass any day of the year, Isuggest that he have at least one heavy coat. After he arrives, theHospice will provide for him."
Franz's mother said brokenly, "Thank you, Father Paul."