Читать книгу The Cameo Necklace - Evelyn Coleman - Страница 5

2

Confusion on the Wharf

Cécile’s heart raced; she could hear it pounding. She had to find that necklace.

She turned and tried to retrace her steps to the spot where she had fallen. She put both arms out, attempting to part the sea of people still streaming down the wharf. They were so close, Cécile could smell on their breath the foods they’d eaten. She could hear bits of conversations, laughter, an argument or two. Looking down, she frantically checked the ground as she moved against the flow of the crowd, but she saw nothing. “Excuse me,” she shouted. “Did anyone see my necklace?” People ignored her or shook their heads no.

When had she lost it? She’d had it on only moments before, when Agnès had greeted her and touched the necklace. Then she’d fallen.

For a second, Cécile thought she heard her name being called, but she ignored it. Only one thing mattered now—she had to get back to the spot where she had fallen to see if she could find Tante Tay’s necklace.

“Pardon. Excuse me,” Cécile said, alternating between French and English. She shoved against the crowd, but its movement was strong and she was still being pushed forward, away from the spot where she’d fallen.

A surge of fear shot through her: What if the pickpocket that the passerby was yelling about had taken it? No—Cécile would not allow herself to think that. The necklace had to be there, right where she’d fallen.

In desperation, Cécile dropped onto her hands and knees and began crawling through the crowd. “Ouch!” she cried as someone stepped on her fingers. She felt the squish of something nasty, a wad of tobacco that someone had spit out, and realized she’d forgotten her gloves again. She wiped her palm, now caked with dirt, on her cloak.

Cécile kept moving through the crowd, still saying, “Excuse me.” When she saw a few trampled buns, she knew she was in the right place. She swept her hands back and forth across the dirt but found nothing.

Cécile hopped up, calling out over and over, “Has anyone seen my necklace?”

Finally she stopped. She looked out over the crowd surging by and realized that not only had she lost the necklace, she had lost the Lejeunes and Monette too. They were nowhere in sight. The crowd was thick, festive, and constantly shifting. Cécile was alone.

She had to think clearly. What should she do?

She decided she must keep looking for Tante Tay’s necklace. It must have come off when she fell. If she didn’t find it now, she might never get it back. Had someone picked it up after it slipped from her neck? Cécile studied the faces of the people nearby.

The tall marchand who had dropped the tray of buns was standing over to her right. Now he held the empty tray at his side. He was looking downward, concentrating on his right hand. Had he picked up the necklace?

Just as Cécile started to push her way toward him, she caught sight of a plume of purple and gold feathers. It belonged to the blonde woman in the circus costume—and she was even closer. Cécile shifted direction. “Excuse me. Pardon,” she murmured, keeping her eye on the performer, who was now busy tucking something into her jeweled drawstring purse, the same one that had dangled near Cécile’s face.

But the crowd’s momentum propelled her slightly to the left, and instead Cécile found herself right in front of the old woman she’d accidentally knocked down.

The old woman was leaning against the wall of a warehouse, staring at Cécile. She clenched a strange, elaborately carved wooden pipe in her mouth. Her brown face was angular and weathered, and long tufts of gray hair fell loose from her tignon. Abruptly she stopped looking at Cécile and stared off into the crowd, nodding.

Cécile turned, following the old woman’s gaze, and spotted the two young basket sellers, their hair loosely flowing around their shoulders. One of them held a cluster of cypress baskets, each one striped with indigo. For a brief moment, they looked in Cécile’s direction, their large, slanting eyes dark and piercing in their long thin faces. The two looked so much alike, Cécile wondered whether they were boys or girls. They began moving toward her swiftly, bobbing and weaving through the crowd as smoothly as water snakes in a river.

Cécile held her breath. The children were heading right for her. Did they have her necklace?

She jumped as a hand grasped her shoulder. “Here you are,” Monsieur Lejeune exclaimed, gently turning her toward him. “Thank heavens! I thought we’d lost you. Come with me. Mademoiselle Lejeune and Monette are waiting for us near the carriages.”

“I’m so sorry, monsieur. Please, wait just a moment—” Cécile began. But her words were swallowed up by the boom of a cannon. Cécile knew this was the signal to warn that it was nine o’clock and all the slaves needed to be off the streets. She glanced back over her shoulder, but the two children were gone.

Before Cécile could say more, Monsieur Lejeune took her hand, pulling her urgently through the crowd. Cécile pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. She had lost her chance to find out if the children had her necklace, or to question the other people who had been near her when she fell.

As she and Monsieur Lejeune inched forward in the crowd, Cécile caught sight of the old woman standing a few feet ahead. How had she gotten there so fast?

“Monsieur Lejeune, may I stop for a moment to speak to that lady ahead?” Cécile asked. “I knocked her down earlier by accident, and I didn’t apologize properly.”

“All right, but hurry, please. I’ll wait right over there, where I can see Monette and my sister waiting for the carriage. Please don’t tarry.”

Cécile rushed over to the old woman, surprised at how easily she reached her. She could see now that the old woman was barefoot, even though it was cold outside. Had she lost her shoes when she fell?

The old woman’s eyes met Cécile’s, almost as if she’d been expecting her return. The woman took the pipe from her mouth. “You are searching for something very valuable,” she said, reaching out to touch Cécile’s face. Her fingers felt cold and ironlike as they stroked Cécile’s cheek.

Cécile’s thoughts raced. The woman must have the necklace—how else would she know that something of value was missing? Excitedly, Cécile asked, “You found my necklace?”

The old woman gave Cécile a long look. “No,” she said gently. “It is your heart that you must find.”

Cécile flushed as if she were standing too near a hot cookstove. She didn’t understand what the old woman was talking about.

“As for your necklace,” the old woman went on, “those we cannot know have it.” Without warning, she grasped Cécile’s hands. Cécile tried to pull away, but the old woman’s grip was strong. Cécile looked around, frantic. She caught sight of Monsieur Lejeune, but he was staring out over the crowd toward the carriage stop. The old woman drew Cécile’s hands toward her, palms up. Staring at Cécile’s palms, she said almost in a whisper, “Remember, hunters always want to kill lions… Lions only want to eat.”

Cécile felt tears pushing out of the corners of her eyes. She was frightened, and she wasn’t sure why. The old woman let go of her hands and pointed up to the sky. Cécile’s eyes followed the motion, noticing the woman’s wrinkled hand, the many jangling bracelets on her wrist, and all the rings on her fingers.

The old woman’s hand moved in front of Cécile’s face in a circular motion, as if to include the crowd, the warehouses, and the ships that lined the wharves. “Open your eyes, girl,” she said. “Open your eyes so you can see.”

“I can see,” Cécile whispered, feeling a tightening in her stomach.

“Not yet,” the old woman said, moving her hand so close to Cécile’s forehead that she could feel the air stirring. “Not yet.”

Cécile felt as if she were falling again. Her body tensed and she closed her eyes, whispering, “But I can see.”

When she opened her eyes, only Monsieur Lejeune was standing beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Just then a woman screamed, “Thieves! Thieves!”

Cécile and everyone else looked in the direction of the screams. They seemed to have come from a marchande selling popcorn balls and macaroons in front of one of the warehouses.

Cécile spotted two children racing toward the edge of the crowd. She recognized them as the children with the cypress baskets. Some of the men in the crowd tried to grab their threadbare cloaks, but no one caught them before they disappeared into the darkness.

When the commotion had settled, Monsieur Lejeune and Cécile made their way to the carriage. The word thieves rang in Cécile’s ears as Monsieur Lejeune ushered Mademoiselle, Monette, and Cécile into a carriage. As she stepped inside, Cécile wondered if those two children had the cameo necklace, and if they were the pickpockets and thieves making off with their prize.

And the old woman—whatever had she meant? Those we cannot know have it…Open your eyes so you can see…Cécile trembled with confusion and fear just thinking about the old woman and her words.

As the carriage jounced home, Cécile forced herself to join in the conversation around her, as Maman would expect her to. But her mind tumbled with the events of the evening—the marvels of the circus, the strange talk of the old woman, and, most of all, the awful misery of losing Tante Tay’s necklace.