Mlle. Fouchette Part 20

"No, monsieur."

"Friends, then?"

"Well, yes."

"It is good. Paris is no place for a young girl alone. Besides, it is just now a scene of riot and bloodshed. It is in a state bordering on revolution. All France is roused. Royalists and Bonapartists have combined against the life of the republic. Paris is swarming with troops. There will be barricades and fighting in the streets, mademoiselle."

Fouchette recalled the fragments of conversations overheard,--conversations between the Superieure and Father Sebastien and certain visitors. Beyond this casual information she knew absolutely nothing of what was going on in the outer world. He misconstrued her silence.

"Whom do you know in Paris, mademoiselle?--somebody powerful enough to protect you?"

"Oh, yes, monsieur," she promptly answered. "I know one man,--one who sent me here,--who is powerful----"

"May I ask----"

"The Chief of the Secret Police," she said, lowering her tone to a confidential scale,--"Inspector Loup."

"Oh, pardon, mademoiselle!" quickly responded the young man. "Pardon!

I meant it for your welfare, not to inquire into your business. Oh, no; do not think me capable of that!"

He appeared to be somewhat frightened at what he had done, but became rea.s.sured when she pa.s.sed it with easy good nature.

"It is important, then, mademoiselle, that you reach Paris at once?"

"It is very important, monsieur."

"The royalist scoundrels are very active," he said. "They must be headed off--exposed!"

He spoke enthusiastically, seizing Fouchette's hand warmly. That demoiselle, who was floundering around in a position she did not understand, walked along resolved to keep her peace. He a.s.sured her that she might fully rely upon him and his in this emergency. Let her put him to the test.

The enigmatical situation was more confounding to Fouchette when she was being overwhelmed with the subservient attentions of the young man's family; but the less she comprehended the more she held her tongue. They were of the cla.s.s moderately well-to-do and steeped in politics up to the neck.

Fouchette knew next to nothing about politics. Only that France was a republic and that many were dissatisfied with that form of government; that some wanted the empire, and others the restoration of the kings, and still others anything but existing things. Having never been called upon to form an opinion, Fouchette had no opinion on the subject. She did not care a snap what kind of a government ruled,--it could make no difference to her.

Coming in contact with all of this enthusiasm, she now knew that Le Bon Pasteur was royalist for some reason; and she shrewdly guessed, without the a.s.sistance of this family conviction, that all Jesuits, whatever they might otherwise be, were also royalists. And, as Inspector Loup was a part of the existing government, he must be a republican,--which was not so shrewd as it was logical; therefore that if Sister Agnes was suspected of being friendly to Inspector Loup, the good sister was a republican and naturally the political enemy of the managers of Le Bon Pasteur. Whatever Sister Agnes was it must be right.

But in holding her tongue Fouchette was most clever of all,--whereas, usually, the less people know about government the more persistently they talk politics.

The young man went back to the wall with a fish-pole and rescued the recalcitrant skirt, much to her delight. His mother mended the rents in it and his sisters fitted her out with a smart hat.

It was soon developed that Fouchette had no money. This brought about a family consultation.

"I must go to Paris," said Fouchette, determinedly, "if I have to walk!"

"Nonsense!" said the young man.

"Nonsense!" chimed in mother and sisters.

"I'll fix you all right," finally declared the young man, "on a single condition,--that you carry a letter from me to Inspector Loup and deliver it into his own hands, mademoiselle. Is it a bargain?"

"Oh, yes, monsieur,--very sure!" cried the girl, almost overcome by this last good fortune. "You are very good,--it would be a pleasure, monsieur, I a.s.sure you."

"And if you were to tell him the part I have taken to-night in your case it would be of great service,--if you would be so good, mademoiselle. Not that it is anything, but----"

"You may be a.s.sured of that, too," said Fouchette, who, however, did not understand what possible interest lay in this direction.

They were all so effusive and apparently grateful that she was made to believe herself a very important personage.

As the letter was brought out immediately, she saw that it was already prepared, and wondered why it was not sent by post.

Another family consultation, and it was decided that Fouchette might lose the letter by some accident; so, on the suggestion of the mother, it was carefully sewn in the bosom of their emissary's dress.

It was also suggested that, since an effort for Fouchette's recapture might include the careful scrutiny of the trains for Paris the next day, she should be accompanied at once to a suburban town where she could take the midnight express.

All of these details were not settled without considerable discussion, in which Fouchette came to the private conclusion that they were even more anxious for her to get to Paris than she was herself, if such a thing were possible.

Fouchette arrived in Paris and alighted at the Gare de l'Est at a very early hour in the morning. Her idea had been to go direct to the Prefecture and demand the whereabouts of Sister Agnes. Incidentally she would deliver the mysterious letter intrusted to her.

But during her journey Fouchette had enjoyed ample time for reflection. She was not absolutely certain of her reception at the hands of Inspector Loup; could not satisfy her own mind that he would receive her at all. Besides, would he really know anything about Sister Agnes?

Fouchette's self-confidence had been oozing away in the same ratio as she was nearing her journey's end. When she had finally arrived she was almost frightened at the notion of meeting Inspector Loup. He had threatened her with prison. He might regard her now as an escaped convict. On the whole, Fouchette was really sorry she had run away.

Back again in Paris, where she had suffered so much, she realized again that there were worse places for a girl than Le Bon Pasteur.

Anyhow, it was early,--there was plenty of time,--she would consider.

She took the tramway of the Boulevards Strausbourg and Sebastopol, climbing to the imperial, where a seat was to be had for three sous.

What crowds of people!

She was surprised to see the great human flood pouring down the boulevards and side streets at such an early hour in the morning. But her volatile nature rose to the touch of excitement. She at once forgot everything else but the street. Fouchette was a true Parisienne.

"Paris!" she murmured; "dear Paris!"

As if Paris had blessed her childhood with pleasure, instead of having starved and beaten her and degraded her to the level of beasts!

"Where on earth are all of these people going?" she asked herself.

There were now and then cries of "Vive l'armee!" "Vive la republique!"

and "Vive la France!" while the excitement seemed to grow as they reached the Porte St. Denis.

"What is it, monsieur?" she finally asked the man at her side.

"It is the 25th of October," said he.

"But, monsieur, what is the matter?"

He looked over his shoulder at the young girl rather resentfully, though his doubts as to her sincerity vanished in a smile.