Chapter 10
Chapter 10 of A Girl of High Adventure This is a LibreBox recording. All LibreBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreBox.org. A Girl of High Adventure by L.T. Mead. Chapter 10.
Chapter 10. Thou art faithful, and so are my bees. I am going to be your little pupil, Grandpere, said Margot, raising her beautiful eyes to the old man's face. Eh? What? He exclaimed.
Eh, what? I thought you were at the school of Madame la Princesse. I don't like that school, mon cher Grandpere. I don't like the girls there. I want you to teach me. Yes, you. You can, you know. You know an awful lot. I don't know anything, little fledgling, answered Grandpere.
What I did learn I have forgotten. I am an old man on the brink of eternity. It is not given to me to teach even one so douce as thou, mon ange. But can we not read poetry together, said Margot. I know you are terribly old, Grandpere.
You are much, much older than the desmond. Oh, but the desmond, he is magnifique. So big, so tall, so broad. His beard, long and white as snow, and his hair white as snow. But his eyes are somewhat like yours, Grandpere.
Only they don't go so deep in his head. Yes, thou art old, mon Grandpere. But still thou can't teach thy little Margot. One hour a day. See it is done. But what shall I teach, my pretty?
How to talk the beautiful French tongue like thyself. Surely that will not be difficile. It will be to thee nothing. Thou learned man, très bien. Oh, but I cannot say all the words I want.
But thou canst do it, mon Grandpere. Only for one hour a day, my Margot. But listen, understand, believe. We must not stay any longer than one hour over the French si belle. For it would fatigue the old man.
After that, I will teach thee the Irish language, said Margot, her eyes sparkling. I will teach thee and thou will laugh. Oh, thou will laugh. Thou art un très bon petit enfant, said the old man. I like to have thee near me, close to my side.
For one hour each day, from two to three, we will talk thy language the most elegant in the wide world. After that, I will lie back on my pillows of down and thou shalt tell me things to make me laugh and laugh again, ma petite. It was in this way that Margot's new life began.
It was a very busy one and on the whole happy. She was glad to leave the school of La Princesse and she greatly liked selling chapeau and robe for her belle grand-mère, la comtesse. She was particularly happy when the members of the school of La Princesse de Fleury entered the establishment looking longingly at the pretty, clever child
and she had the opportunity of giving them, as she expressed it, the back. She had great pride, had this little comtesse, and when she swept past Lady Dorothy Duncan and even the other English girls who had tried to befriend her, she enjoyed herself immensely. She had become, in fact, a sort of power of the establishment
and never did the francs come in so quickly and the robes and the chapeau and the fans and the gaunts fly so fast. She had a knack of picking out elderly, rich-looking people and dressing them according to her own taste. Meanwhile, she passed utterly by the inmates of the great school
and the other aristocrats, of whom she took no notice whatsoever. The people whom little Margaux attended to were bourgeoisie, but they were rich and Margaux was clever enough to charge them according to their means. In short, things were going so well that Madame la belle-grand-mère felt it only her duty to give the child the very best music lessons which Arles could produce.
The afternoons were sacred to Mont-Campere and in short, the little incident in connection with the school was well-night forgotten. Oh, what a very happy girl was Margaux St. Juste, but she little knew that a cloud was arising in the blue of her sky and that she was not to escape scot-free.
Ebby Duncan was really engaged to a young nobleman of great distinction. The marriage was to take place within a very short time. She had an aunt who lived some distance from Arles, who would supply her with that dot which the marquise could not possibly raise. And this aunt came constantly to Arles to see about her niece's robe and chapeau for la marrage.
The fame, the taste of the small dark-eyed comtesse had reached the ears of Madame de Rade and she was determined that the little comtesse and no one else should assist in the choosing of the marriage garments for the young lady Ebby Duncan. But it is one thing for man to propose and another thing for God to dispose. The little comtesse was exceedingly busy that morning,
turning a fat, ill-made French woman of a farmer class into an elegant lady. She was choosing the right robes, the right chapeau. She was, with a skill all her own, softening the tense of Madame Volotte. Madame Volotte hardly knew herself in her chapeau and her robe. She stood in the center of the largest salon, the admired of all beholders.
A group of young girls surrounded her while la petite comtesse gave her orders in a firm and resolute voice. You must wear this green, so dark, she said. Tiens, and here are the very chapeau for you. Hesitate not, Madame Volotte. You will look oh, oh, the most charming.
A little way to the right stood Madame Draud, the lady Ebby Duncan, and Dorothy, her sister. La petite comtesse kept her back to the group. She was absorbed with Madame Volotte. Just then Madame Marcel came up and whispered some words to the little comtesse. The little comtesse shook her pretty head.
Non, non, she said. It cannot be. I have all my time occupied to the moment. They have offended me and I will not serve them now. Si, behold, when I have done with this chair Madame, there are others who are waiting for me.
I cannot give any advice at all to the ladies Ebby and Dorothy. You must attend them yourself, Madame Marcel. Madame Marcel did her best, but the deed was done. Dorothy and Ebby, accompanied by their aunt, left the establishment with their heads in the air and a very significant expression on their faces.
Behold, I had my way, said little Margot with a smile, and she went on giving all her skill and knowledge to the wives of the different farmers who were so rich and could pay so well. But when they got into the street, Ebby said a word to her aunt, Madame Dorade. I have suffered an insult, said Ebby, and I wish to repay it. An insult, my dear child, said Madame.
What do you mean? Who would dare insult a bride-elect? Ah me, I know life, I know men also. With thee is perfect happiness, my little Ebby. Nevertheless, I have suffered an insult, said Ebby Duncan.
Did you not observe that ugly little girl who gave herself such airs and who only attended the farmer-folk? You cannot allude to la petit-compteuse, said Madame Dorade. Why, she is a most beautiful, very young girl. Nevertheless, she has insulted me, said Ebby. We have plenty of time.
We will not take over long on this business, Aunt Matilda. I want to drive to the Chateau Saint-Just. Oh, but certainly, said Madame Dorade. Do you know the Comte, Ebby? He is a very proud old man.
He makes but few acquaintances. I shall get to know him, said Ebby. And I, said Dorothy. Well, have it your own way, my sweet pets. But I hear that he is the most delicate.
We will not detain him long. Not long, said Ebby, blushing and laughing. They arrived in a very few minutes at the Chateau, which was in exquisite order. Everything new and fresh, according to Madame Dorade, perfectly lovely, for she was the sort of woman who liked the whiteness and spotlessness and everything in perfect present-day taste.
Her own Chateau was neat, but not compared with this. She gave a quick sigh under her breath, but her nieces were too much occupied with their own affairs to observe it. Now it so happened that always in the morning, Le Comte Saint-Just took what he called his airing.
He went out leaning on the arm of his garçon, a young man dressed in the ancient livery of the Saint-Just. He leaned heavily on the garçon's arm and went invariably in one direction, and that was first to examine the thriving rows of beehives, and second the peaches, which were ripening to a lovely golden red on a high brick wall.
Le Comte Saint-Just used to count the peaches and rejoice in their fragrance. He was a happy old man, very happy, since he had married his nignon. It mattered little to him if she had once kept a shop. She kept one no longer. He could not have married her if that was the case.
They lived, oh, so happily on the rich dot which she had brought with her. She was one in ten thousand, his pretty nignon. So young, so gay, and of the taste the most perfect. It therefore so happened that when the three ladies drove up in their automobile to the Château Saint-Just, they only found Madame Lacomtes standing on the front steps and giving
directions to one of her numerous gardeners. Madame Deraud got out of her car and introduced herself and her nieces. Ah, but I am in ecstasy to know you, Madame, said Lacomtes. But if you do indeed seek my Alphonse, you cannot see him now. He is at this present moment resting on his couch of down, and must not be disturbed.
I know him by appearance, said Lady Dorothy, and he is not on his couch of down. He is in the garden yonder, behold, he is talking to the garçon. I go to tell him, to tell him the truth. I will not stand the sins of your little granddaughter, Madame Lacomtes. She serves in your magazine, and her rudeness is unthinkable.
I go to report to Monsieur Lacomtes the wicked ways of that ugly child. But I entreat you to stop, cried the anguished voice of the little Comtesse. He knows nothing, nothing at all, oh, it will kill him, and he, with pride of all the Saint-Just in his veins, he knows not of the établissement, le petit bébé and I, we keep it from him as a secret, the most profound.
Do not be so cruel as to injure him, chère mademoiselle, you go to the school of my friend, Madame Laflerie, I recognize your bourgeois charming face. I will have my revenge, said Dorothy. I mind not at all the age of that stupid old man, I see him, I will go. Dorothy, don't, Dorothy, I command thee not to go, said Madame Dorade.
But Dorothy cared very little indeed for any such command. She had light and agile feet, and before the unhappy little Comtesse could prevent her, had rushed into the garden where the peaches and the bees were, dropped a low curtsy to Monsieur Lacomtes and said in a hurried tone, Monsieur speaks the tongue of England, I am an English girl, my name is Dorothy Duncan.
I am at the school of la princesse de Fleury, la petite Comtesse no longer goes to that school. The old Comte managed to hold himself very erect, he fixed his eyes on the pale blue eyes of the English girl. Eh, will you have a peach, he said?
No, I don't want your peaches, Monsieur Lacomte, but listen, behold, I want to tell you the very truth, la petite was practically expelled from our school. We would have nothing to do with her, think, Monsieur Lacomte, would it be likely she attends in a shop? In a, in a, began the old Comte.
In the shop of the present Comtesse, it is now known as the establishment of Madame Marcel and la petite Comtesse goes there every day of her life to sell ugly, common things to the wives of farmers. The shop belongs to la Comtesse and she dreads that you should know. Ah, but what a buzzing, continued Dorothy at the end of her sentence.
There were innumerable voices. There was the angry tone of Ebay confirming her sister's words. There was Madame Dorade in tears, for she could not hear to afflict the aged. And there was the Comtesse, white as a sheet, bending over mon adorable Afance, who had sunk slowly but surely to the ground in a state of complete unconsciousness.
Dorothy stood at his back, a little frightened at her own words. And then she uttered a scream and a shriek where the celebrated bees of Monsieur Lacomte Saint-Giusse were surrounding her. They were getting into her hair. They were stinging her neck, her arms, even her lips and her eyes.
She could not get away from them. The old man heard nothing, nothing at all. And Dorothy rushed out of the garden, extremely sorry for her mean little revenge. She was immediately followed by Lady Ebay and Madame Dorade. No one had been stung but Dorothy, and she could do nothing but cry out at her pain.
Madame Dorade called her a child of the most méchant, of revenge the most puerile. She said the bees had but done their duty, and when she dropped Dorothy at her school, she said that someone who could remove the stings had better be sent for. But alas, for the rest she pitied not at all la pauvre chat. After some difficulty the unconscious Comte was brought into the house.
He was feeling particularly weak, and the abrupt sayings of Dorothy caused his heart to stop and then bound again, and then came a dizziness and a darkness over him, and he knew no more. But when he came to himself on his couch of down, and the doctor was bending over him, and Ninon was weeping tears on his face, he dimly recalled what had passed.
The doctor administered a restorative and then went to another room with Madame la Comtesse. Someone has given le bon mar a profound shock, he remarked. It's true, it is quite true, said la Comtesse. Oh, Dr Jocline, I must confide in you, listen, and you will know all, before I met my beloved husband, I was the well-known Ninon le cause, and there was not an establishment like mine
in the whole of Arles, but behold, I met the old man, so gracious, so lonely, so neglected, and I exercised upon him a little piece of what the English would call the deceit. I told him of my wealth, and he offered me his hand, but only on condition that I would give up the establishment, which brought me in the fronks in such multitudes. Monsieur, I pretended to agree, but oh la, la, how could I give up my beautiful establishment,
how could I keep this château as it is now and give mon enfance his comforts? So I changed the name of the establishment and called it no longer that of Ninon le cause, but the establishment unique of Madame Moselle, but it is mine, mine all the time, kind Monsieur le Docteur, how could I keep this place going without it? And then when la petite comtesse came, she proved to have the gifts extraordinaire, and
she worked in my establishment, and does work there every day, and she brings in the fronks as they never came before, but we decided to keep the knowledge from the old man because he is weak and feeble. Ah, Monsieur le Docteur, what am I to do if I give up my establishment? The death of mon enfance will surely lie at my door, and yet, if I keep it, oh doctor,
counsel a wretched woman. You must keep the establishment sans doute, votre mari has had a shock, but he will not die. That girl was mean who told him, but I have just been removing the stings of the bees from her and she will be much swollen and distressed for some days. There is no doubt whatever that she has got her punishment.
Ah, but here comes la petite comtesse. The little comtesse stared in astonishment at the doctor's motorcar, at la belle grand-mère's tearful face, and at the confusion which seemed to surround the hitherto peaceful place. Oh, grand-mère, she exclaimed, I have sold three thousand francs worth of goods for thee this morning.
Oui, très vrai, with my own skill, I did. I would not look at Lady Ebbe or Lady Dorothy, the ugly stuck-up things that they are, but I attended to the wives of the farmers and they paid cash down, grand-mère, and they are going to Paris, all three of them, in their new chapeau and robe and sans. Ah, but I made the stout one look slim and the slim one look a little gross, nispa, and
the whole of them elegant, and Dorothy and Ebbe were fluttering around waiting for my judgment, but grand-mère, I gave it not. I would not speak to them, they offended me, I gave them my back, grand-mère. But those helped injure thy grand-père, said the poor little comtesse. That Dorothy is wicked, and she has had her revenge.
She found mon enfance in the garden with the peaches and the peas, and she told him all about thee, mon petit. He fell in a swoon, his horror was great, but the chair at Bella have stung her well. And thou are weeping when I made three thousand francs for thee, said little Margaux. I will go straight to grand-père and set him right.
Let the little one have her way, she has the genius, said the doctor. You keep away, grand-mère, let me go alone to mon grand-père, said Margaux, and she ran in the direction of the salon with a couch of down. Margaux had a very gentle way of speaking, few things put her seriously out, and she was more pleased than otherwise at grand-père's learning the truth.
He was lying very still on his sofa. His face was white, and a tear or two trickled down his withered cheeks. Thou art not like the desmond, grand-père, said little Margaux. The desmond would not mind anything so trifling as a shop. Ah, mon petit, mon petit, exclaimed the old compt, and he now burst into floods of tears.
Margaux knelt by him and wiped his tears away very gently. That flow of tears will give thee relief, she said. Thou wilt be better. Ah, better, let me arrange pour vous, grand-père. I like putting the mighty from their seats.
Oh, grand-père, I have such a beautiful story to tell thee. The old man ceased crying and looked at the little comptess with wondering eyes. Perhaps it is a lie, he said. Of course, said Margaux, there is a shop. But it is not thy shop, it belongs to madame Marcel.
And not to my nino, oh, thank the god almighty. May I help madame Marcel a little while I am learning the French tongue, si belle? That is all. Thou wilt not forbid it. Thy nino, my belle grand-mère, is crying her eyes out at the thought of hurting me.
But it was done by those wicked girls. As I told, I was at the establishment, and I have got, ah, the taste magnifique. And the farmer's wives, some very red, some very thin, came in to be suited with robes. Ah, but they were of the most superb that I did show them, and I suited the taste of each.
I made the fat red one look thin and pale and elegant, ah oui, and the thin one I gave her a good figure, and I chose chapeau the most suitable. And I put into the pocket of madame Marcel three thousand francs this morning. For they are rich, these wives of farmers, and they pay as they go. But Dorothy, la petite chatte, and Ebbe, they came in, and they wanted me to leave the farmer's
wives and attend to them. They meant, doubtless grand-père, to run up a long bill and keep it going, going, going. So I said I would have nothing to do with them, because I love them not, and I do love the wives of the farmers. They were very angry, and they came here to see thee, mon grand-père, and behold, Dorothy
was stung by thy bees. It served her right, didn't it grand-père? Was she stung? said grand-père. I offered her a peach, which she deserved not. I did not know that she was stung.
Mon enfant, thou art faithful, and so are mes chers habillés. And thou wilt see thy Nino who weeps outside, said Margot. Of a verity I will see my Nino, would care I how many establishment madame Marcel keeps. By Speakeasy B
