The White House Part 32

"I will write you a poem for your installation, Monsieur Jules."

"Well, if you insist upon it, let us go into the girl's house for a minute; but beware of her dog!"

Isaure had opened the door. A superb dog, with long silky white hair, leaped upon her, then smelt each one of the visitors--a formality which did not please Robineau.

As they entered the cottage, Alfred turned and exclaimed:

"Why, where's our guide? I don't see him."

The shepherd had departed as soon as the girl appeared.

"He seems to have left us," said Edouard.

"Still another delay!" muttered Robineau.

"We can do without him quite well, and I will guarantee that we will be at your house within two hours. Meanwhile, let us enter the abode of the little sorceress, whose lovely eyes have turned my head already."

The young men entered a room on the ground floor, furnished with common articles, but spotlessly clean. At the rear could be seen a small yard, with the garden beyond.

"Would you like to see my garden while I am getting your breakfast ready, messieurs?" asked Isaure.

"With pleasure," said Alfred.

"Come, Vaillant, escort these gentlemen to the garden."

Vaillant understood his mistress's signs and led the way. The young men followed him, Robineau saying to himself:

"It seems that it's the dog who does the honors of the house."

They pa.s.sed through the yard, where there were hens and pigeons, and Vaillant led them into the garden; it was small, but tastefully arranged, with fruit, vegetables and flowers all growing there without the least confusion. Edouard gazed at everything with deep interest, and Alfred with surprise; he could not understand how so pretty a girl could live alone in that cottage, where everything seemed to point to comfortable circ.u.mstances and orderly habits.

The dog walked in front of them; when they stopped, he did the same, and turned to look at them; then he would walk on, turning his head from time to time, to see if they were following him. He led the travellers thus to every nook and corner of the garden; then took them back to the house.

"This dog is an extraordinary creature," said Edouard; "a peasant could not have played the cicerone better."

"He is magnificent," said Alfred, "a genuine Newfoundland. He seems to be young still; I'll wager that his like cannot be found in the whole district; he is worth more than six hundred francs."

"You must agree, messieurs," said Robineau, "that it's surprising to find such a fine animal in a peasant girl's house. For my part, I agree with the shepherd, that it's very strange that a traveller should have given him to her,--unless the little one, in exchange, gave him her most precious possession."

"Oh! Monsieur Robineau, what an idea!" cried Edouard angrily. "To a.s.sume evil at once! to cast a slur upon this child's virtue."

"Faith, my dear fellow," said Alfred, "it may well be that Robineau is right; we do not know this girl, but she lives alone, and----"

"And that's a very suspicious circ.u.mstance," said Robineau; "but these poets are amazing creatures--they are determined to find prodigies of innocence and virtue everywhere."

"No, monsieur; poets feed on chimeras less than other men; for they are surfeited with all forms of fiction; they know how a romance is made, and they often go behind the scenes, where it is difficult to retain one's illusions; but that is no reason for never believing in virtue, and I do not believe that an innocent girl is a prodigy in this part of the country."

At that moment Isaure appeared at the door and said:

"When you wish to breakfast, messieurs, everything is ready."

They returned to the cottage, where they found a table laden with fruit, bread and milk, and b.u.t.ter, all arranged with a daintiness and neatness that charmed the eye.

"This is more appetizing than the soup of our good friends of Chadrat,"

said Alfred, as he and his companions seated themselves at the table.

"Won't you sit down with us?" Edouard asked Isaure.

"Oh, no! I have already breakfasted, monsieur; but I will stay to wait on you, if you require anything."

As she spoke, Isaure seated herself at some little distance from the table, took some work, and began to sew. Vaillant at once lay down in front of his mistress, with his face turned toward the visitors, from whom he did not take his eyes for an instant, like a sentinel stationed to guard an important post, who never relaxes his watchfulness, so that he may defend it if attacked.

While they ate, the young men frequently glanced at the girl. There was on her features an impressible, gentle expression, to which her ingenuous and candid glance imparted an indefinable charm.

"I agree with Edouard now," said Alfred after a moment, "and I believe that Robineau is wrong."

"Do you occupy this house all alone?" Edouard asked the girl.

"Yes, monsieur, all alone, for the three years since my dear mother died."

"Was Andre's widow your mother?"

"She took the place of a mother to me, for I never knew my own parents, who died a long time ago; but kind Andre and his wife adopted me as their child. When he died I was very small; but his wife--it's only three years since I lost her, and I think of her every day."

The girl's voice trembled, and she lowered her head over her work; the young men looked at her and saw tears falling from her lovely eyes.

Vaillant noticed the change in his mistress's tone; he raised his head, stood up, and looked at Isaure; then turning his eyes on the strangers, he gave a low growl as if calling them to account for the girl's tears; but she instantly put her hand on him, patted and caressed him, whereupon the dog became quiet once more and lay down at her feet.

"Forgive us for reviving your grief by our questions," said Alfred; "but travellers are inquisitive--and you are so pretty, you know!--But you must be bored, living all alone?"

"Bored? oh! no, monsieur! I have no time for that; I have so many things to do! My garden requires a great deal of care; and then, have I not company? my dog, my hens, my goats, and my cow?"

"She calls that company!" exclaimed Robineau with a smile of pity. "But you must be afraid here, aren't you?" he asked Isaure.

"Afraid? no, monsieur; there are no thieves in our mountains; and even if anyone should try to harm me, have I not my faithful Vaillant? Oh! he would defend me stoutly!"

"I certainly wouldn't want to fight with him," said Robineau.

"True," said Alfred, "that's a magnificent dog of yours, and of a very valuable breed. They are the dogs that help the good monks on Mont Cenis and Mont Saint-Bernard to find lost travellers, who are often almost dead in the snow."

"Ah! I am sure that Vaillant would do as much!"

"Did you pay a high price for him?" inquired Robineau with a sarcastic smile.

The girl did not reply for some seconds; then she lowered her eyes and said:

"He was given to me--he cost me nothing. The person who made me the gift told me that he could not give me a more faithful guardian."

"Had I been in his place," said Edouard, "I would have done the same.

Your situation is not without danger, and fidelity is a.s.suredly the greatest safeguard of innocence and beauty."