The Tapestry Room Part 5

"No, I don't think he did. I have more a sort of feeling that he and the peac.o.c.ks on the wall were whispering to each other--something about us--you and me, Jeanne--it was, I think."

"Perhaps they were going to give a party, and were planning about inviting us," suggested Jeanne.

"I don't know," said Hugh; "it's no good my trying to think. It's just a sleepy feeling of having heard something. I can't remember anything else, and the more I think, the less I remember."

"Well, you must be sure to tell me if you do hear anything more. I was awake ever so long in the night, ever so long; but I didn't mind, there was such nice moonlight."

"Moonlight, was there?" said Hugh; "I didn't know that. I'll try to keep awake to-night, because Marcelline says the figures on the walls are so pretty when it's moonlight."

"And if Dudu comes, or you see anything funny, you'll promise to call me?" said Jeanne.

Hugh nodded his head. There was not much fear of his forgetting his promise. Jeanne reminded him of it at intervals all that day, and when the children kissed each other for good-night she whispered again, "Remember to call me, Cheri."

Cheri went to sleep with the best possible intentions as to "remembering." He had, first of all, intended not to go to sleep at all, for his last glance out of the window before going to bed showed him Monsieur Dudu on the terrace path, enjoying the moonlight apparently, but, Hugh strongly suspected, bent on mischief, for his head was very much on one side and his claw very much stuck out, in the way which Jeanne declared made him look like a very impish raven indeed.

"I wonder what Marcelline meant about the moonlight," thought Hugh to himself as he lay down. "I hardly see the figures on the wall at all.

The moon must be going behind a cloud. I wonder if it will be brighter in the middle of the night. I don't see that I need stay awake all the night to see. I can easily wake again. I'll just take a little sleep first."

And the little sleep turned out such a long one, that when poor Hugh opened his eyes, lo and behold! it was to-morrow morning--there was Marcelline standing beside the bed, telling him it was time to get up, he would be late for his tutor if he did not dress himself at once.

"Oh dear," exclaimed Hugh, "what a pity! I meant to stay awake all night to watch the moonlight."

Marcelline smiled what Jeanne called her funny smile.

"You would find it very difficult to do that, I think, my little Monsieur," she said. "However, you did not miss much last night. The clouds came over so that the moon had no chance. Perhaps it will be clearer to-night."

With this hope Hugh had to be satisfied, and to satisfy also his little cousin, who was at first quite disappointed that he had nothing wonderful to tell her.

"To-night," she said, "_I_ shall stay awake all night, and if the moonlight is very nice and bright I shall come and wake _you_, you sleepy Cheri. I do _so_ want to go up those steps and into the castle where the peac.o.c.ks are standing at the door."

"So do I," said Hugh, rather mortified; "but if one goes to sleep, whose fault is it? I am sure you will go to sleep too, if you try to keep awake. There's _nothing_ makes people go to sleep so fast as trying to keep awake."

"Well, don't try then," said Jeanne, "and see what comes then."

And when night came, Hugh, partly perhaps because he was particularly sleepy--the day had been so much finer that the children had had some splendid runs up and down the long terrace walk in the garden, and the unusual exercise had made both of them very ready for bed when the time came--took Jeanne's advice, tucked himself up snugly and went off to sleep without thinking of the moonlight, or the peac.o.c.ks, or Dudu, or anything. He slept so soundly, that when he awoke he thought it was morning, and brighter morning than had hitherto greeted him since he came to Jeanne's home.

"Dear me!" he said to himself, rubbing his eyes, "it must be very late; it looks just as if summer had come," for the whole room was flooded with light--such beautiful light--bright and clear, and yet soft. No wonder that Hugh rubbed his eyes in bewilderment--it was not till he sat up in bed and looked well about him, quite awake now, that he saw that after all it was moonlight, not suns.h.i.+ne, which was illumining the old tapestry room and everything which it contained in this wonderful way.

"Oh, how pretty it is!" thought Hugh. "No wonder Marcelline told us that we should see the tapestry in the moonlight. I never could have thought it would have looked so pretty. Why, even the peac.o.c.ks' tails seem to have got all sorts of new colours."

He leant forward to examine them better. They were standing--just as usual--one on each side of the flight of steps leading up to the castle.

But as Hugh gazed at them it certainly seemed to him--could it be his fancy only?--no, it _must_ be true--that their long tails grew longer and swept the ground more majestically--then that suddenly--fluff! a sort of little wind seemed to rustle for an instant, and fluff! again, the two peac.o.c.ks had spread their tails, and now stood with them proudly reared fan-like, at their backs, just like the real living birds that Hugh had often admired in his grandfather's garden. Hugh was too much amazed to rub his eyes again--he could do nothing but stare, and stare he did with all his might, but for a moment or two there was nothing else to be seen. The peac.o.c.ks stood still--so still that Hugh now began to doubt whether they had not always stood, tails spread, just as he saw them now, and whether these same tails having ever drooped on the ground was not altogether his fancy. A good deal puzzled, and a little disappointed, he was turning away to look at another part of the pictured walls, when again a slight flutter of movement caught his eyes.

What was about to happen this time?

[Ill.u.s.tration:--"IT WAS DUDU!"--p. 51.]

"Perhaps they are going to furl their tails again," thought Hugh; but no. One on each side of the castle door, the peac.o.c.ks solemnly advanced a few steps, then stood still--quite still--but yet with a certain waiting look about them as if they were expecting some one or something.

They were not kept waiting long. The door of the castle opened slowly, very slowly, the peac.o.c.ks stepped still a little farther forward, and out of the door of the castle--the castle into which little Jeanne had so longed to enter--who, what, who _do_ you think came forth? It was Dudu!

A small black figure, black from head to foot, head very much c.o.c.ked on one side, foot--claw I should say--stuck out like a walking-stick; he stood between the peac.o.c.ks, right in Hugh's view, just in front of the door which had closed behind him, at the top of the high flight of steps. He stood still with an air of great dignity, which seemed to say, "Here you see me for the first time in my rightful character--monarch of all I survey." And somehow Hugh felt that this unspoken address was directed to _him_. Then, quietly and dignifiedly still, the raven turned, first to the right, then to the left, and gravely bowed to the two attendant peac.o.c.ks, who each in turn saluted him respectfully and withdrew a little farther back, on which Dudu began a very slow and imposing progress down the steps. How he succeeded in making it so imposing was the puzzle, for after all, his descent was undoubtedly a series of hops, but all the same it was very majestic, and Hugh felt greatly impressed, and watched him with bated breath.

"One, two, three, four," said Hugh to himself, half unconsciously counting each step as the raven advanced, "what a lot of steps! Five, six, seven," up to twenty-three Hugh counted on. And "what is he going to do now?" he added, as Dudu, arrived at the foot of the stairs, looked calmly about him for a minute or two, as if considering his next movements. Then--how he managed it Hugh could not tell--he suddenly stepped out of the tapestry landscape, and in another moment was perched in his old place at the foot of Hugh's bed.

He looked at Hugh for an instant or two, gravely and scrutinisingly, then bowed politely. Hugh, who was half sitting up in bed, bowed too, but without speaking. He remembered Jeanne's charges to be very polite to the raven, and thought it better to take no liberties with him, but to wait patiently till he heard what Monsieur Dudu had to say. For somehow it seemed to him a matter of course that the raven _could_ speak--he was not the very least surprised when at last Dudu cleared his throat pompously and began--

"You have been expecting me, have you not?"

Hugh hesitated.

"I don't know exactly. I'm not quite sure. Yes, I think I thought perhaps you'd come. But oh! if you please, Monsieur Dudu," he exclaimed, suddenly starting up, "do let me go and call Jeanne. I promised her I would if you came, or if I saw anything funny. Do let me go. I won't be a minute."

But the raven c.o.c.ked his head on one side and looked at Hugh rather sternly.

"No," he said. "You cannot go for Jeanne. I do not wish it at present."

Hugh felt rather angry. Why should Dudu lay down the law to him in this way?

"But I promised," he began.

"People should not promise what they are not sure of being able to perform," he said sententiously. "Besides, even if you did go to get Jeanne, she couldn't come. She is ever so far away."

"Away!" repeated Hugh in amazement, "away! Little Jeanne gone away. Oh no, you must be joking Du--, I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dudu."

"Not at all," said Dudu. "She _is_ away, and farther away than you or she has any notion of, even though if you went into her room you would see her little rosy face lying on the pillow. _She_ is away."

Hugh still looked puzzled, though rather less so.

"You mean that her thinking is away, I suppose," he said. "But I could wake her."

Again the raven c.o.c.ked his head on one side.

"No," he said. "You must be content to do my way at present. Now, tell me what it is you want. Why did you wish me to come to see you?"

"I wanted--at least I thought, and Jeanne said so," began Hugh. "We thought perhaps you were a fairy, Monsieur Dudu, and that you could take us into the castle in the tapestry. It looked so bright and real a few minutes ago," he added, turning to the wall, which was now only faintly illumined by the moonlight, and looked no different from what Hugh had often seen it in the daytime. "What has become of the beautiful light, Monsieur Dudu? And the peac.o.c.ks? They have shut up their tails again----"

"Never mind," said the raven. "So you want to see the castle, do you?"

he added.

"Yes," said Hugh; "but not so much as Jeanne. It was she wanted it most.

She wants dreadfully to see it. _I_ thought," he added, rather timidly, "_I_ thought we might play at giving a party in the castle, and inviting Houpet, you know, and Nibble."

"_Only_," observed the raven, drily, "there is one little objection to that. _Generally_--I may be mistaken, of course, my notions are very old-fas.h.i.+oned, I daresay--but, _generally_, people give parties in their own houses, don't they?"

And as he spoke he looked straight at Hugh, c.o.c.king his head on one side more than ever.

CHAPTER IV.