Читать книгу Sir Isumbras at the Ford - D. K. Broster - Страница 12

Four days later Mr. Elphinstone and his grandson were breakfasting alone in the room where Anne-Hilarion had remained, so unsuitably attired, to hear matters not primarily intended for the ears of little boys. And now the Comte de Flavigny was seated again at that very table, his legs dangling, eating his porridge, not with any great appetite, but because it was commanded him.

And Mr. Elphinstone did the same, glancing across now and again with his kind blue eyes to observe his grandson's progress. The suns of India, where so much of his life had been passed, had done little more than fade his apple cheeks to a complexion somewhat less sanguine than would have been theirs under Scottish skies. His very precise British attire bore no traces of his long sojourn in the East, save that the brooch in the lace at his throat was of Oriental workmanship, and that the pigeon's-blood ruby on his finger had an exotic look—and an equally exotic history. Anne-Hilarion knew that it had been given by a rajah to his grandfather, instead of an elephant, and never ceased to regret so disastrous a preference.

If James Elphinstone had known, when he left India, that in years to come an elephant would be so fervently desired in Cavendish Square, it is possible that he might have considered the bringing of one with him, such was his attitude (justly condemned by Mrs. Saunders) towards Janet's child. At this moment, in fact, he was meditating some extra little pleasure for Anne-Hilarion, to make up for his father's departure of two days ago. M. le Comte, though he had a certain philosophical turn of mind of his own, fretted a good deal after M. le Marquis, and his grandfather was wondering whether to assign to that cause the very slow rate at which his porridge was disappearing this morning.

"Come, child, I shall be finished long before you," he observed at last.

Anne-Hilarion sighed, and, addressing himself once more to the fray, made great play with his spoon, finally announcing, in true Scots phrase, that he had finished 'them.'

"That's right," said the old gentleman. "Some more milk, my bairn? Bring your cup."

Anne slipped down and presented his mug. "I think we were going out this morning, Grandpapa," he observed, with his little engaging air, watching the filling of the receptacle.

"So we were, my lamb. And we were going to buy something. What was it?"

"A goldfish," whispered the little boy. "A goldfish!" He gave his grandfather's arm a sudden ecstatic squeeze, and climbed back to his place.

"To be sure, a goldfish," was beginning Mr. Elphinstone, when at that moment in came a letter, brought by Lal Khan, the dusky, turbaned bearer—source, once, of much infantile terror to M. le Comte, but now one of his greatest friends. On him Anne-Hilarion bestowed, ere he salaamed himself out again, one of his sudden smiles. Mr. Elphinstone, after hunting vainly for his spectacles, opened the letter. It drew from him an exclamation.

"Here's actually a letter from your father already, Anne. He has written from Canterbury, on his way to Dover."

Above the milk he was drinking, Anne-Hilarion's dark, rather solemn eyes were fixed on his grandfather.

"Dear me, this is very curious," said Mr. Elphinstone, looking up from the perusal of the letter. "Your father finds, he says, that some old friends of his family are living there—at Canterbury, that is—two old French ladies. What's the name? . . . de Chaulnes—Madame and Mademoiselle de Chaulnes. He came across them quite by chance, it appears. And—I wonder what you will say to this, Anne—he wants you to go and stay with them for a few days."

"Now?" asked the little boy.

"Yes, quite soon. They are very anxious to see you, having known your grandparents in France. There is a letter from them enclosed in your Papa's. I am to send you with Elspeth. See, I will read you Madame de Chaulnes' letter."

And he read it out to his grandson, in its original French, a tongue which he spoke well, though with a Scottish flavouring.

"'MONSIEUR,—It has been, as you may well imagine, a pleasure as great as it was unexpected to encounter, in his passage through Canterbury to-day—on his way to a destination as to which prudence invites silence—the son of my old friend Mme. de Flavigny. From his lips I have learnt of his marriage—of so short a duration, alas!—with your beautiful daughter, in whose untimely grave one sees that so much of his heart is buried; and also of the existence of the dear little boy who remains to him as a pledge of their love.

"'I do not know, Monsieur, if René—I can scarcely bring myself to call him anything else—has ever spoken to you of my sister-in-law and myself, and our old friendship with his family.'"—"I do seem to remember his mentioning the name," observed Mr. Elphinstone, fingering his chin.—"'It is possible that he has done so, and that this fact, joined to the letter which he was good enough to write to accompany this, may move you to a favourable reception of my request, which is, that some day, before the weather becomes unpleasantly hot for travel, you should allow the little boy and his nurse, Mrs. Saunders, to pay us a few days' visit here at Canterbury. Perhaps, indeed, if I might suggest such a thing, this would serve to distract him during his father's absence. Our modest dwelling boasts a garden of fair size, and my sister and myself are both devoted to children. You, Monsieur, from what we hear of your charities to us unfortunate exiles, will well understand what the sight of the grandchild of our departed friends would mean to two old women, and it is this conviction which emboldens me to make a request which I know to be no light one.

"'I have the honour to remain, Monsieur, your obedient servant,

"'BARONNE DE CHAULNES.'"

Mr. Elphinstone reflected. "I shall not like parting with you, child," he murmured, half to himself. "Not at all, not at all. But I suppose if René wishes it, as he obviously does . . . And it is not far to Canterbury. Shall you like to go and visit these old French ladies, Anne?"

"I do not know," replied the Comte de Flavigny, considering. "You are not coming too, Grandpapa?"

"No, no. But Elspeth will be with you."

"Perhaps I shall like it. Have they a dog, ces dames, des chats?"

"Cats, very probably. But I do not know. I think you will find it interesting, Anne, for a few days. You will be able to play in the garden there. These old ladies"—he referred once more to the letter—"Mme. de Chaulnes and her sister-in-law, can tell you, I expect, all about your father when he was a little boy like you."

"Yes," assented the prospective visitor in tones of resignation rather than of anticipation. "But——" He looked mournful.

"Yes, my bairn?"

"The goldfish!"

Mr. Elphinstone laughed. "Oh, the goldfish! That is easily arranged. We will go out directly after breakfast and buy it, while Elspeth is packing."

"I could take it with me?"

"Well, I don't know. . . . Yes, I suppose you could."

Anne fell into meditation on the goldfish. He evidently saw it swimming before him, and the idea of parting so soon from this treasure, not yet even acquired, was clearly distressing.

"Then, if I could take it, Grandpapa, perhaps I would not mind very much, as Papa wishes it."

"That's a good child!" exclaimed Mr. Elphinstone, relieved. Not that Anne-Hilarion was, as a rule, anything else but good, yet, as he was very sensitive and his grandfather ridiculously tender-hearted, the old man dreaded even the remotest shadow of a difference of opinion. "It will only be for a few days," he went on, "and I think you had better go at once, this afternoon, in fact, so that you will get back all the earlier, in case Papa should return from Italy sooner than we expect."

This he said with a view of heartening his grandson, well knowing that the term of 'a few days,' elastic as it was, could hardly see René back from Verona.