Читать книгу Sir Isumbras at the Ford - D. K. Broster - Страница 17

Not many hours later, Anne-Hilarion, fed and reposed (for, as each old lady said to the other, he must not be overtired), was seated on a small chair in front of a cheerful little fire in the hall, chattering gaily to the two fairy godmothers who knitted on either side of the hearth. He was never inordinately shy with strangers, and, the first encounter over, he was probably much happier than was Elspeth in the company of the old Frenchwoman in the kitchen. He related to them every detail of his journey, while the old grey cat on the rug, with tucked-in paws, blinked her eyes sleepily at the unfamiliar treble. And Mme. de Chaulnes told him about the cat, and how she had once brought up a family of orphaned kittens, and Mlle. Angèle was much interested in his goldfish, though as yet there was hardly any history to relate of that acquisition.

"Your Papa has not seen it yet, then?" inquired Mme. de Chaulnes, having listened to the whole narrative of its purchase.

"No," replied Anne-Hilarion. "It is to be a surprise for him when he comes back." He pulled himself suddenly higher in the chair, which was a trifle slippery. "Did you know my Papa when he was little, like me, Madame? Grandpapa said so."

Mme. de Chaulnes laid down her knitting. "Cher petit, yes. I saw your Papa first when he was about your age, playing in the garden of the château in France where you were afterwards born, Anne. He was playing with a ball near a stone basin full of water, and—is not this curious?—there were goldfish like yours swimming about in the water. I remember it after all these years." And Mme. de Chaulnes' keen old eyes grew dreamy.

"Sister," said Mlle. Angèle, "tell the child how René was lost."

"Ah yes," said Mme. de Chaulnes. "Only I hope Anne will never imitate such conduct. Your father, as he grew older, Anne, was very fond of reading. One day his father—your grandfather, Anne, your French grandfather, that is—had given him a new book (I forget what it was), and your father was so delighted with it that he wandered off and took it to read in an old quarry. You know what that is, Anne—a place where they get stone from. So René—your father—scrambled down into this quarry, and sat there to read, and he was so much interested in the book that he forgot about dinner. And at the château they were very anxious because they did not know where he had got to, and the afternoon went on and still he did not come, and then at last they sent out to look for him. And how do you think they found him, Anne?"

But Anne could not guess.

"They took a big dog that belonged to the Marquis, your grandfather, and gave him a coat of your father's to smell, and told him to find your father. So the big dog trotted off, smelling the ground all the way, and at last he led them to the stone quarry, and there was René at the bottom of it. He could not climb up again!"

"He must have been frightened, Papa," said Anne reflectively. "I could not have read so long as that. When the words have many letters it is tiring, especially if the book is English. Do you speak English, Mesdames?" For all their converse hitherto had naturally been conducted in French, and Anne had forgotten that Elspeth had been addressed in her native tongue.

"A little," said Mme. de Chaulnes, smiling. "But you, child, speak it as easily as French, no doubt."

"I speak English to Grandpapa, and French to Papa," replied the linguist. "Did my Papa have a pony when he was little?" he next inquired.

"I do not remember," said the old lady. "Have you one, Anne?"

"Not yet," responded Anne-Hilarion. "Grandpapa has promised me one when I shall be seven."

"Your Grandpapa is very good to you, I think," commented Mlle. Angèle.

"Yes, indeed," agreed the child. "Papa says that he spoils me."

"I expect he does," said Mme. de Chaulnes, smiling at him over the top of her tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles.

A little silence fell. The two old ladies knitted on; the grey cat stretched herself. There hung over the mantelpiece a head of the late Louis XVI., an engraving of no particular merit, having the similitude of a bust, and Mlle. Angèle, looking up, found their visitor studying that full, petulant profile.

"You know who that is, of course, mon petit? The King—the late King, whose head they cut off."

Anne-Hilarion nodded. "M. le Chevalier has a picture of the Queen too, on a snuff-box. He showed it to me one day."

Mlle. Angèle rose and took something from the mantelpiece. It was a miniature of a little boy in general appearance not unlike Anne himself, but fairer, with falling curls and a deep ruffle. "Do you know who that is, child?" she asked, in a voice gone suddenly sad.

Anne did know.

"He is in prison, the little King, and can't get out," he replied gravely. "'Domine, salvum fac regem!' M. l'Abbé taught me to say that—it is Latin," he added, not without pride.

"You have learned friends, little one," observed Mme. de Chaulnes kindly.

"Yes," replied the child, with interest. "M. l'Abbé knows a great many things. He teaches French also—but that is because he has not much money, I think. And M. le Vicomte de Soucy, he is very poor; Grandpapa thinks that he often goes without his dinner. But he is very proud too; he will not dine at our house often."

"He might make some money by selling his snuff-box with the picture of the Queen," suggested Mme. de Chaulnes, with rather a sad smile. "But I dare say he would sooner starve than do that."

"Oh, but it is not he who has the snuff-box," corrected Anne-Hilarion. "It is M. le Chevalier de la Vireville."

"But no doubt M. le Chevalier is poor too—like all the rest of us," said the old lady, sighing.

Anne-Hilarion considered this supposition about M. le Chevalier. Having no definite standard of wealth except the seldom seen contents of his own money-box, he only knew that M. de Soucy and the Abbé and the rest were poor because he had heard Mr. Elphinstone and his father say so. He had never seriously weighed M. le Chevalier's financial condition, yet, remembering now that on several occasions M. de la Vireville had contributed to the money-box in question, he was inclined to dispute this judgment.

"I do not know about M. le Chevalier," he said at length. "You see, he does not live in London; he is only there sometimes. It is more interesting for him, because he is a great deal in Brittany, and he fights, and goes to Jersey. He is going there soon. That is more amusing than teaching French like M. l'Abbé, or music, which I think is what M. le Vicomte teaches."

"Much more amusing," agreed Mme. de Chaulnes. "Why then does not M. le Vicomte do something of the same sort as M. le Chevalier? If I were a man, Anne, instead of an old woman, I am sure I should set off to Brittany to fight for the little King."

"I think the reason why M. de Soucy does not go to fight is because he is lame. It is a pity. It is from a wound."

"Then he might do the same sort of thing as your Papa," suggested Mlle. de Chaulnes, "and go abroad to see the Princes, and so on."

"Indeed," said Anne rather wistfully, "I wish M. le Vicomte could have gone to Verona instead of Papa. But they all wanted Papa to go."

"They had a meeting to settle it, of course," said Mme. de Chaulnes, as one stating a fact rather than asking a question.

"Yes," said Anne, nodding. "In our house."

"Your Papa told you all about it afterwards, I suppose?"

"No," replied the Comte de Flavigny sedately; "I was there."

"You, child!" exclaimed Mme. de Chaulnes incredulously. "Nonsense!"

"But yes!" persisted Anne, wriggling on his chair. "You see, it was in the dining-room, and I got out of bed and went down, because I thought they were going to Noroway-over-the-foam, as it says in the poem, and M. le Chevalier wrapped me up in the tablecloth and took me on his knee, and I heard all about it. Elspeth was dreadfully angry next morning," he concluded.

"I don't wonder!" was Mme. de Chaulnes' comment. "Fancy a boy of your age up at that time of night. You know, Anne," she went on seriously, "you must be careful how you talk about what you heard at that meeting—if you were really awake and heard anything. You must not speak of such things except to your father's friends. But I expect you know that, my child, don't you?"

Anne-Hilarion had flushed up. "But yes, Madame," he replied earnestly. "Papa has told me that often, not to be a chatterbox. But I did not really understand what they were talking about, except that Papa was to go to see the Regent—I do not know why—and that there was soon to be an expedition to France."

One of Mlle. Angèle's knitting-needles here dropped with a clatter on to the polished floor.

"Oh, there is no harm in talking about that," said Mme. de Chaulnes placidly. "That is common property—the news of the coming expedition. (Yes, sit upon the rug, child, by the cat, if you are tired of the chair.) You see, all we Royalists are interested in the expedition, and know about it, even the place where it is going to land. Angèle, if it is your knitting-needle that you are looking for, it has rolled just by your foot."

"I heard where the expedition was going to land," said Anne, with some excitement, as he slipped down beside the cat. "But I have forgotten it again."

He looked inquiringly up at the old lady. Mme. de Chaulnes threw him a quizzical glance.

"A very good thing too," she said, knitting rapidly. "I am not going to revive your memory, child. It is a mercy that children have short ones, if they are going to make a practice of attending consultations that should be secret," she remarked across the hearth to her sister.

"I do not know that they are so short," said Mlle. Angèle, recapturing her needle. "I will wager you a crown, sister, that before he leaves us Anne remembers the name of the place where the expedition is to land."

"Very good," said her sister-in-law. "But I do not think that he will."

"Or better still," went on the younger fairy godmother, "let us wager with Anne himself that he does not remember it, and is not able to tell us before he leaves us. Then, if he does, he will have the crown to put into his money-box—for I expect he has a money-box of his own."

"Oh yes, indeed I have," said the little boy. He suddenly became silent, gently stroking the grey fur to his hand. Mme. de Chaulnes finished turning the heel of her stocking.

"Well, what are you thinking of, child?" she asked at length, resuming her fourth needle.

"I was remembering that there was something I wanted to ask M. le Chevalier when he came to say good-bye to me before going to Jersey; but now when he comes to our house for that, he will find that I came away here first, so I cannot ask him."

Mme. de Chaulnes put down her knitting. "So he was going to say good-bye to you before leaving for Jersey, was he? He is a great friend of yours, then, this M. de la Vireville?"

"I like him very much," responded the Comte de Flavigny with precision.

"Well, what did you want to ask him? Perhaps I can tell you the answer."

"I wanted very much to know," said Anne slowly, "why he has two names?"

Mme. de Chaulnes raised her eyebrows. "Has he then two?"