The Idol of Paris Part 16

M. Darbois, ordinarily so quiet, laughed at his antics till the tears came, while Mme. Darbois smiled that pleasant smile that had first long ago appealed to Francois's heart. As to Mlle. Frahender, the artist's wit fairly made her dizzy. As at Brussels, she soon gave up trying to follow him, for at the moment when she thought she had caught the trend of his humour he had already branched off into another anecdote, this time serious, and her laugh would come too late. So she tried to read the names of the little stations flying past, but the speed of the train was so great that, like Maurice's anecdotes, she only got as far as the first syllable. She closed her eyes and slept.

They changed trains at Auray about six in the morning. The young people took charge of the luggage while Maurice went to make sure that the portmanteau with his canvas and paints was securely on the right train. With his mind at rest, he joined them at the little buffet, where they were having shrimps, pink as roses, fresh eggs, coffee and the little cakes of the countryside.

"This way for Quiberon," called out the guard. And the train carried the whole family away to its next stage.

When Esperance breathed the life-giving breath of the sea, when she could distinguish the green line of ocean beyond the trees, she clapped her hands with ecstasy. She became a guide for Genevieve, explaining to her the conformation of Carnac, and recounting with pretty fancy the legends of the country they were pa.s.sing through.

At last the train stopped at Quiberon. They stopped at the Hotel de France to speak to the Proprietress, Mme. Le Dantec, and get a picnic dinner from her to take with them. The boat, the _Soulacroup,_ was filling the air with its second whistle, so they had to hurry along. The tide was not yet full, so they had to climb down the slimy quay, slippery with trodden seaweed, s.h.i.+ny with fish scales. The boat was taking on board a dozen red hogs that snorted mightily. Several women with well-laden baskets settled themselves in the fore part of the vessel, using the baskets as a barricade between themselves and the pigs. Our travellers settled themselves as well as possible, which was not well at all, on the little bridge under an awning. However, Esperance found it all delightful.

The trip was rather rough and uncomfortable, but most of the company made the best of it. Mlle. Frahender grew pale and ill, and her hair flew about in the most comic disarray. Cosily ensconced in a corner, Maurice sketched the various att.i.tudes his companions a.s.sumed with every antic of the lightly-laden, wave-tossed Soulacroup. Hunched up on the seat, Esperance clung to the rigging. Genevieve clutched at her when a wave pitched the boat too far over. The others, well m.u.f.fled up, waited in silence. Jean Perliez sighted the sh.o.r.e continually with his gla.s.ses, wis.h.i.+ng it ever nearer so that his impatient idol might soon be safe on sh.o.r.e again.

In due course the port of Palais came in view. The Soulacroup's whistle shrieked through the air and in a quarter of an hour more they landed. First the red pigs were taken off, tottering even on solid land, no doubt brooding over the evils they had just pa.s.sed through.

Maurice was enthusiastic when he caught a good view of the little port of Palais, filled with a hundred little boats lined with blue nets.

The tuna boats carried from their ropes and around their sides long, stiff silver tunas, so bright in the sun's rays that they hurt the eyes.

"Oh! Do look," cried Esperance.

A little boat had just approached, overladen with sardines, and soon a silver shower was falling on the hard stones of the quay. It was a beautiful sight, and the excitement of the Parisians amused the jolly fishermen mightily.

Francois Darbois led his party to the carriage that was waiting, a brake with six seats, drawn by two farm horses. The farmer on the box seat was beaming with pride at the return of his patrons.

It is more than an hour's journey from Palais to Penhouet, but the road seemed short, on account of its variety of view. Leaving Palais, there was first of all the ropemakers rolling long strands of hemp with their fingers almost bleeding over the task. They had chosen a charming spot; shaded by a little orchard they worked and sang the ropemaker's song, with a lingering, dragging melody. And then, after pa.s.sing a little wood, the island itself came into view. It was covered with gorse, like a series of Oriental carpets dotted with the gold of the broom in bloom, woven with rose heather, and red heather, and purple heather. The bright green foliage of the wild roses "appeared" like arabesques. The sky, hanging low, bluish green, without a cloud, seemed as a silken film stretched to filter the heat of the sun. At a turn in the road the plain disappeared to give place to little hills, which rise from every side to defend from wind and rain the beautiful golden wheat, with its heads drooping under the weight of the heavy grain.

"Ah!" cried Esperance joyfully, standing up in the carriage, "I can see there is the farm just ahead."

The road dropped abruptly so they had to put on the brakes in spite of Esperance's impatience.

And the two young girls, clinging to each other, saw the little red-roofed farm house enlarge, as they grew nearer. At last the carriage stopped, and the farmer's wife came forward to meet them with her three children. At twenty-six she looked forty, like most peasant women exhausted by work and child-bearing. Madame Darbois caressed the children, who had just been having their ears washed and their hair combed vigorously to prepare them for the advent of their master's family.

The farm house was long, and close to the earth, being only one story high. The front door gave directly on the same level into the dining-room, a large room which also served as the salon or parlour, with a bright kitchen to one side, where s.h.i.+ning ca.s.seroles spoke of the order of the proprietors; to the left, was a large bedroom, sacred to the Darbois themselves. Close to the kitchen was a very comfortable room for Marguerite and the other maid. A wooden staircase led to six rooms above, which were very airy, and all hung with bright chintzes.

Mlle. Frahender was installed next to Esperance, with Genevieve on the other side. The two young men were sent to what was known as the "Five Divisions of the World," being composed of five cabins, Europe, Asia, Africa, America and Oceania. These five rooms were always reserved for guests, were built of pitchpine, and their windows gave directly on the sea.

Farther away, at the edge of the fields, were the farmer's quarters, with a long pond full of reeds and iris, hard by and adjoining the pond a pigeon house with sixteen white pigeons which were very dear to Esperance. She loved to see them fly across the water, like pretty messengers disporting between two skies.

After a frugal dinner the young people climbed the dills as far as Penhouet. The bay was surrounded on all sides by high rocks, behind which were hidden smaller rocks, covered with mosses, and mussels; and on the right the cliff hollowed out into a dark cave facing the land.

This little beach, cheerful by day, grew mysterious with the fall of night. Esperance could point out Quiberon, outlined across the way between land and sky like a ribbon of light. The little lighthouse, high on the plateau above the farm, sent out its long lunar arms regularly to sweep the country and search the sea.

CHAPTER XVII

Esperance kept her word to Doctor Potain, and spent fifteen days stretched out in a cosy lounge chair. The particular part of the beach had been chosen by Maurice, for it was during this time of forced repose that he intended to do his cousin's portrait for the next Salon. In a little hollow of the hill, he settled the chair. A great tamarisk with feathery foliage of bright green formed a background. To the right was the sea, to the left a glowering ma.s.s of dark rocks.

Jean and Genevieve took turns in reading aloud, and the picture was said to be progressing famously. During the first two weeks Esperance spent about five hours every day in the chair, but from the sixteenth day she only devoted one hour for posing, after lunch, and then she began to organize excursions to explore the country round about.

One morning as the four young people were returning from a bicycle ride, they saw ahead of them the little brake on its return journey from Palais to the farm which Mme. Darbois had used on a shopping expedition with Marguerite. In the brake were two other persons--two men. The excursionists were still too far from the carriage to recognize the strangers. But Esperance, who was watching, stopped suddenly. Genevieve, who was behind her, almost rode into her, and had to jump lightly from her wheel. Maurice and Jean were some distance behind. She called to them. They were much concerned to find Esperance, with a pale face, clenching her hands on the handle-bar.

"What is it, cousin, what ails you?"

At first she did not speak at all, then her eyes lost their far-away look and she gazed at Jean.

"I don't know," she said in a changed voice, "I think I had some hallucination come upon me."

Then she pointed towards the distant brake which was approaching Penhouet at a great pace.

"What did you see?" Maurice insisted. "You have had a dizzy feeling come over you? You must be careful."

"Yes, perhaps so," she went on, shaking her head as if to rid it of some vague thoughts that were disturbing her brain, "perhaps so. But let us be quick, for one of the gentlemen was Doctor Potain."

"Were there two men," asked Jean.

"Yes, two."

And she started off again at a great pace.

Jean was dolefully perplexed.

When they arrived at the farm they were quite breathless from their long ride. The philosopher was waiting for them at the door.

"Esperance, my dear," he said, "Doctor Potain is here with the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche. Your mother met them at the Palais, just as they had landed from the boat and were looking for a carriage."

"Very well, father, I must change my things and I will be with you as quickly as possible."

Jean Perliez understood the emotion of his dear little comrade. She seemed to him at once terrified and fascinated. Maurice was presented to the Duke, who immediately began to make himself agreeable. He was quite anxious he said to see the portrait of which M. Darbois had spoken, so Maurice led him up the hill side. The portrait was on an easel, and from a distance the Duke almost thought that he was seeing the real Esperance, the little girl who was troubling his life. He was delighted with the freshness of the colouring, and the perfection of the likeness, so necessary when the model is so beautiful.

Maurice was pleased by the appreciation of such a skilled dilettante, the praise was evidently sincere. He was very much taken with the Duke, who predicted a glorious future for him.

Jean waited at the foot of the staircase leading to the girl's rooms, and watched them descend. Esperance was looking radiant. She had dressed herself with particular care. He understood the tremors of her heart and decided to keep watch in case she should need him.

When the girls came into the hall, the Duke was talking to Maurice, and the Doctor to Francois Darbois. The gentlemen had not heard the door open, but intuitively the Duke turned around.

Esperance met his burning eyes which were veiled by an expression that suggested repentant submission. She inclined her head slowly and went straight up to Doctor Potain, thanking him for coming, and apologizing for having kept him waiting. Potain led her into her parents' room. He was much disturbed by the uneven beating of her heart, stormier than he had ever heard it.

"That is because I just rushed foolishly on my bicycle to see you, Doctor. I recognized you a long way off. So...."

The Doctor looked closely at the young girl. Her eyes shone with abnormal brightness. He sounded her, but found nothing wrong except the irregularity of her heart. He sent Esperance back to the salon so that he could talk with her father alone. The Duke hastened to apologize for having come thus without notice. He was staying at the Chateau of Castel-Montjoie with Doctor Potain, and when he heard that the Doctor was leaving for Belle-Isle, he could not resist the opportunity to come and ask pardon. He talked a long time, with ardent, almost brotherly tenderness; asked when Esperance thought of making her appearance at the Comedie-Francaise, urging her to play _"Camille,"_ and spoke with considerable praise of Musset's heroine.

"The character of the young girl seems to have been caught alive. I criticize her only for her hardness."

"But," Esperance replied quickly, "that hardness is simply a light veneer, the result of her education. _'Camille_,' who knew nothing of life except through the disillusioned account of her friend in the Convent, would soon become human if _'Perdican'_ had a less complicated psychology."

She stopped, and was silent a minute.

The Duke looked at her.

"All the world has not the candour of a Count Styvens," he said.