Part 18

"So much the better. With a strong girl in the house, we shall not be afraid if we are attacked. Tell me, Père Ledrux, do you think that she will be able to come to us as soon as we come back? I would like to have her, for then she could help us to clean house and put everything to rights. And then, I admit that, for the first few days, I shall be a little timid if we two are alone."

"Ah! my dear! it seems that I am to be the sensible one here!"

"Oh! don't you pretend to be brave; you're afraid of mice!"

"That's very different; mice climb everywhere."

"Tell me, Père Ledrux, can we count upon this girl for the day of our arrival?"

"Why, you see, I can't answer as if I was her, or as if I was her uncle; but I'll tell you what you can do: while you're here, just go and talk to Poucette; then you'll know what to expect, and whether you can count on her."

"You are right; that's the better way. But where shall we find this Poucette?"

"Pardi! at her uncle's, her aunt's husband's. It ain't very far out in the country; I'll show you the way if you want me to."

"I should be very glad; I like above all things to settle matters on the spot.--Come, Agathe, let us go to see Mademoiselle Poucette; at the same time we shall see a little of the country where we are soon to live."

XIX

A FARMER'S COTTAGE

Honorine and Agathe followed the gardener, who walked a few paces in front of them, constantly humming his little song:

"Tutu--tuturlututu."

They walked for some distance; the peasant stopped from time to time to point out some pretty house, saying:

"That's where monsieur le maire lives. That's Monsieur le Docteur Antoine Beaubichon's house; it ain't very large, but he has a nice vineyard behind--and such pear trees! Well! they bear the finest pears you ever saw--as big as melons! He gives them to the people he takes care of. In fact, they came near killing Monsieur Jarnouillard! but you may say he made a fool of himself, he ate too many of 'em. And deuce take it! pears are cold for the stomach, especially the grand duchess!--That's Madame Droguet's house--a fine house--two wings! Oh! it's a valuable place, I tell you! and kept up! You ought to see it! There's carpets everywhere, even on the stairs; and everything rubbed till it shines like a mirror; _estatues_ in the courtyard, vases of flowers, and a garden, with paths as straight as a string can make 'em; the box is trimmed so that never a branch sticks out by another. And there's a fine clump of chestnuts, where you can stand without fear of the rain; and a basin with a fountain that plays Sundays! Oh! it's magnificent! One of the finest places anywhere about. But then Madame Droguet's one of the swells."

"Isn't she the lady," queried Agathe, "who had the resolution to hide five days in succession among the bushes, to get a close view of the owner of the Tower?"

"Bah! it was the doctor who told you that. Well, yes, they did say at the time that she did that; but I didn't see her. Suppose she did: she was at liberty to hide in the bushes if it amused her; she don't have anything else to do."

"True; but one must be very inquisitive to pass five days in succession in the bushes, watching for someone."

"Bless me! she's rich--she can afford to be inquisitive."

"Has the lady a husband?"

"Oh, yes! a little bit of a man. When he's alongside of his wife, you can't see him, because Madame Droguet's a splendid woman; she's a good five feet five, and strong in proportion; what you might call a fine woman!"

"Isn't she supposed to have been a vivandière formerly?"

"Oh! there's another one of the doctor's tales. You know, they say a lot of things like that in the country,--because Madame Droguet's a little quick, and when she first came here to live she used to give her servants a slap now and then; and they never failed to say that she boxed her husband's ears too, and kicked him in the rump, saving your presence, when he undertook to oppose her wishes; but that's all fiddle-faddle!--People saw that she was the mistress in her own house, that nothing was done there except by her orders, so they said: 'She must have been a vivandière, she leads her husband about to the beat of the drum.'--This much is certain, that she's the one that runs the house and says what's to be done and undone, built and pulled down; the husband don't meddle in anything. That's why you hear people say 'Madame Droguet,' and never 'Monsieur Droguet!' But that just suits him; he seems to be satisfied so long as he can dance."

"Ah! so Monsieur Droguet is fond of dancing? How old is he, pray?"

"I guess he's close on to fifty-five; and his wife, too--she must be as old as he is, at least."

"Then she gives balls so that her husband may dance?"

"I don't know whether she gives balls, but she gives dinner-parties and she has lots of company. It seems that they live pretty well there. But she's sure to invite you; she invites all the swell people in the neighborhood."

"I don't know whether she will invite us," said Honorine with a smile; "but it would be a waste of time; for we do not dine out."

"Oh, well! if that's your idea, it's all right. If she invited me, I'd go; but I ain't enough of a bigwig."

"Are we almost there, Père Ledrux?"

"It's just a little farther; Guillot's house--he's Poucette's uncle--is on the other side of the river. But this walk shows you something of Chelles."

"Do we pass the ruins of the Abbey?"

"No, they ain't on our road; after all, you don't see anything of the Abbey; it's been made into a farm-house, and there isn't anything very interesting about it; there's only a few old walls left. But we're going to pass Monsieur Luminot's house. That's another nice one, I tell you; not so well kept as Madame Droguet's; but heaps of land behind: vineyards, arbors, and lots of white grapes."

"Isn't he the gentleman who went to call on the owner of the Tower, to invite him to dinner?"

"Yes; he's a high-liver, is Monsieur Luminot--used to be a wine-merchant; he always has good stuff in his cellar, and he's never stingy about a glass of wine. He's a friend of Madame Droguet and often dines there."

"Does he dance with Monsieur Droguet?"

"I couldn't tell you. I don't believe he's a dancer, he's too fat for that; while Monsieur Droguet, who is very short and thin, keeps his feet going all the time he's talking to you, just exactly as if he had the St. Vitus's dance. He must have had it when he was small, and never got wholly rid of it. He went to Paris not long ago, on purpose to learn a new dance that's all the fashion, so they say--the lance--lances----"

"Lancers?"

"That's it, mamzelle, the lancers! and when he came back, he couldn't sleep for a number of nights; he used to get up and dance the lancers with his chamber-vessel, so that he woke the whole house, and Madame Droguet was obliged to get angry.--Ah! there's Monsieur Jarnouillard's house."

"The gentleman who ate too many pears?"

"Yes, mamzelle. It isn't very large, but there's only the husband and wife; no children and no servants; Madame Jarnouillard does all the work. But people say they've got enough, that they're rich; and what makes 'em think so is that Monsieur Jarnouillard lends money to people who are hard up and are able to pay it back--who have chattels and land, as he says. If you haven't got those things, there's no danger of his accommodating you; and anyway he charges interest that makes you shudder!"

"The man's a usurer then, is he?"

"Faith! I can't say as to that. They say that he used to be a tradesman in Paris, with a shop on Quai des Lunettes. I don't know what kind of _lunettes_--spectacles--he sold, but he must have made a good thing out of it. They ain't liked hereabout, and yet people are very glad to have 'em here; because those who get into difficulty, who need money to pay their rent or to take up a note, go to see Monsieur Jarnouillard, and he lends 'em the money--provided he can make a pretty profit out of it. Still, they're people who don't put on any airs, and the Lord only knows what they live on. The wife buys one mutton cutlet for herself and her husband. Bless me! but they're miserly! they eat crusts of bread, old roosters, and fish the husband catches in the Marne; in fact, he's been arrested twice for fishing without a permit. In summer he tries to catch birds with birdlime; they eat whatever he catches; but when they dine out they near kill themselves with indigestion; and besides that, Madame Droguet's maid tells me that they stuff their pockets with things from the table. Ha! ha! that gives them a royal feast the next day. But you understand that all I'm telling you is just gossip; I don't bear those people any grudge; I don't want anything of 'em.--Tutu--tutu--turlututu."

"Ah! my dear Agathe!" said Honorine in a low tone, "people are no more generous in the country than in the city, and he would be bitterly disappointed who should go into the country to live, in the hope of finding purer morals, more agreeable relations, more sincere friendships, and more obliging neighbors! No, men are the same everywhere; but their failings, their vices show more plainly in small places than in the large cities. The only thing one can be certain of having in the country is pure air."

"There's Guillot's house!" said the gardener, halting in front of a wretched hovel of earth and stones, the roof of which was in such bad condition in several places that when it rained the occupants were but partially sheltered.

There was a small garden, hardly separated from the fields by a scrubby hedge of elder-bushes, at the right of the hovel, and in it a few stunted trees shading cabbages and potatoes. Everything was growing haphazard in the little enclosure, which seemed in as wretched a condition as the house.

The two women entered a large room, which was not floored either with flags or boards. It was used as a kitchen, and also as a bedroom, for there was a dilapidated cot in one corner. On the walls, innocent of paper, hung divers kitchen utensils; there were also shelves, upon which were dishes, mainly earthen bowls.

A large walnut _buffet_, several chairs without seats, some stools and a table composed all the furniture of that room, which, moreover, was not very clean and presented an appearance of wretchedness that made the heart ache.

And yet that hovel sheltered a whole family: Guillot the farmer, his wife and four children, the eldest of whom was only eleven, while the youngest still lay in his mother's arms, and another, two years old, still dragged at her skirts.

Nevertheless it was in that family, whose head earned barely enough to support his own children, that Poucette was made welcome. The worthy man considered that his niece, being an orphan, was also his child; and he took her into his home.

"I will try to work a little harder," he thought, "and God will provide."

If the country people are envious and evil-speaking, we also find among them such touching examples as this of humanity and kindliness: the latter should induce us to forgive the former.

When Agathe and Honorine entered the house, the farmer's wife was nursing her youngest child; another little fellow was rolling on the ground, gnawing a piece of black bread. By the fire, a girl of eight was trying to make the water boil in the kettle by blowing with her breath two or three small sticks that smouldered on the hearth. The two young women stood lost in amazement at the sight of those wretchedly-clad children in that tumble-down hovel. The picture of destitution is always more painful to look upon when it embraces children.

Guillot's wife looked up with a surprised expression at the two ladies who had entered her home; but it did not interfere with her maternal duties.

A moment later, however, Ledrux put his head in at the door and shouted, as if he were speaking to deaf people--as was his habit with everybody:

"I've brought these ladies to see you, Mère Guillot; they're the ones who've bought Monsieur Courtivaux's house, and they're coming to live in it. They're looking for a girl to do their housework and their cooking; in fact, the whole business; and I thought of Poucette, who hasn't got any place. Would it suit you to have her work for these ladies, who are bourgeoises and well off----"

Honorine interrupted the gardener.

"Madame," she said, "we are told that your niece is a good girl, and we will treat her so that she will be happy with us; but if she is useful to you, if you prefer to keep her with you, we will look elsewhere."

"Oh! Poucette ain't so very necessary to us," replied the peasant; "because Claudine, our oldest, is old enough to look after her little brothers while I go to work in the fields."

"Is that Claudine?" asked Honorine, looking at the child who was still blowing the sticks with all her strength.

"No, that's Mariette, our second one; Claudine's eleven; she's big and strong. As for Poucette, she's a good girl, but let me tell you, if you count on her to do your cooking, why you mustn't expect too much! Well! she ain't very subtle about cooking."

Honorine smiled at the word "subtle" which the peasants are very fond of using, often without any clear idea of its meaning.

"I am not disturbed about that," she replied. "All I shall ask of Poucette are zeal and willingness."

"Oh! as far as that goes, she's got plenty. And you will give her her keep?"

"Naturally."

"And her washing?"

"She will have to spend nothing but for clothes; and Agathe and I will often find something to give her among our old dresses."

"I will give her my blue striped dress at once," said Agathe, "for it's too small for me. I am still growing."

"If it's too small for you, it will be even smaller for Poucette, who's taller than you," said Père Ledrux, with a laugh.

"Oh! that don't make any difference," rejoined the farmer's wife; "dresses can be let down and pieced out; we ain't ladies, you know. How much will madame pay my niece to do her work?"

"Tell me yourself what you think it will be worth."

"Bless me! if the girl has her lodging and keep and washing, it seems to me that if you give her a ten-franc piece every month she'll be satisfied. Do you think that's too much?"

"No, it's not too much; and I promise you to increase her wages if she serves me faithfully."

"Then it's all fixed, unless Poucette don't want to go into service; but if she don't want to, why, we wouldn't like to vex the child. She'd think we was doing it to get rid of her; she'd think we didn't love her any more; and that would make her unhappy, and us too!"

"Poor people!" said Honorine, looking at Agathe, "how devoted they are to one another! Their hearts are rich at all events! And the people who roll in wealth are sometimes very poor in that respect.--Might we not see Poucette, madame," she asked the peasant, "so that we may find out at once whether or not we may count upon her?"

"Well, yes! but just now she's at our little piece of land with Claudine, planting potatoes, because Guillot's got some work at Monsieur Luminot's."

"Is your piece of land far from here?"

"Oh, no! not so very far; if you'd like to go there--you see I can't show you the way myself, and Mariette is doing something for me just now.--Père Ledrux, you know where our field is."

"Let me see! Pardi! to be sure I do; it's right alongside of Gros-Pierre's field, where he's set out plum trees that don't grow."

"That's right; then you can take these ladies there."

"Yes, yes! Pardi! while I'm about it, I might as well lose my whole day; it will go in with the rest."

"Very well; continue to be our guide, Père Ledrux, and let us go to find Poucette. After all, it will make us acquainted with the country.--Good-morning, madame; we are going to see your niece, and if my proposition is satisfactory to her, that arrangement will be made."

"You won't be sorry, for she's a good girl. Your servant, mesdames."

The two friends set off once more, still preceded by the gardener, who led them across the country, saying:

"This time it's in just the opposite direction; we have got to go toward Gournay."

"Is it a long distance?"

"Faith! it's quite a little piece."

"How does it happen," said Agathe, "that a man buys land so far from his house?"

"Well! mamzelle, sometimes one inherits it, or else he gets it at a bargain. I believe that Guillot got this piece of land of his from his father-in-law, but I'm afraid he won't keep it long."

"Why so?"

"Oh! I have an idea that it's pretty well mortgaged! I've often seen Guillot going to Monsieur Jarnouillard's, and bless me! round here, when you say: 'He goes to Jarnouillard's,' that means that his affairs are in bad shape, that he needs money!"

"Poor people! But Poucette's uncle is a hard-working man, you said?"

"To be sure; but you understand, when you have to feed so many mouths--and then the potatoes being bad last year, and that was Guillot's only crop! When you count on a thing and it goes back on you, why, it's rather upsetting!--Tutu--turlututu!"

XX

THE ENVIRONS OF CHELLES.--POUCETTE.--AMI

"We're heading now as if we was going to Gournay," said the gardener, trotting in front of the two ladies; "this will help you to know the way when you want to go to walk in the neighborhood; and especially if you happen to feel like eating a _matelote_; for Gournay's famous for them, you know."

The peasant led them past the railroad station, which is on the road from Chelles to Gournay. Beyond the station they found themselves on a fine road bordered by tall poplars and enclosed by ditches filled with water, which prevented passers-by from walking in the fields on the other side of the ditches.

Both to the right and left the country was flat for some distance; it was a beautiful valley interspersed with coverts arranged for the express purpose of affording the game a place of rest and shelter.

"This is a very fine road," said Agathe, after they had been walking on it for ten minutes, "but it is too straight, too monotonous; I don't like roads where you never can tell whether you are going forward; is it like this very much longer?"

"No, mamzelle. Look; where you see that stone on the left, we make a turn, and then we shall have Gournay before us, and the view is more varied."

In fact, after turning to the left, they could see the Marne, whose placid green waters conceal many rocks dangerous to vessels and to bathers. The outlook was charming: on the left they saw a mill which reached boldly to the very centre of the river, supported by numerous piles. There were obstructions, too, to warn boatmen that they must not venture near, and that the passage was dangerous when it was not impossible. And the water, passing over these obstructions, formed cascades and waterfalls which gave life to the picture; while numerous little islands above the mill added still more to the charm of the landscape.

In another direction a tall hedge enclosed a park belonging to an estate called the _Maison Blanche_; then there were more pastures and fields and coverts.

"Ah! this is lovely!" exclaimed the girl, when she saw the river. "How pretty the water is, my dear! it makes a landscape beautiful instantly. I don't call those horrid ditches by the roadside water. We will come here often to walk, won't we, Honorine?"

"It's rather far from Chelles; however, we shall come here, no doubt."

"I intend to learn to fish, my dear; you must teach me the way."

"But I know no more about it than you do!"

"Never fear," said the peasant; "when you have a stout line, and when you've found out a place where there's fish, it goes all alone; but you'll have to buy a license though."

"What bridge is that ahead of us?"

"That bridge leads to Gournay, then to Noisy-le-Grand, then to Montfermeil, if you choose; but you have to pay to cross; it's a toll, a charge--I don't know what they call it; but it's a sou each. It seems that it cost three hundred thousand francs to build, and they want to get the money back; there's eighty years still that we've got to pay, but after that we can pass for nothing. As I don't like to put out a sou, I don't often cross; I'm waiting till it's free."

"Don't be afraid," said Honorine with a smile; "we will pay for you."

"Oh! it ain't worth while; we haven't got to cross the bridge to get to Guillot's field; it's to our left, on the bank of the river."

"But while we are here, I should be glad to know what there is on the other side of the bridge."

"Bless my soul! there's nothing but Gournay, a small village, a quiet little place that don't make much noise in the world. Bless me! there's only a hundred and twenty-five to a hundred and thirty people, at most, and you can guess it ain't likely to be as lively as Paris!"

"True; and if all the villages roundabout are as small, I understand why we have not met, or even seen, a single living being since we left Chelles. Doesn't it seem strange to you, Agathe, to walk for three-quarters of an hour in the country without meeting anyone?"

"Yes, my dear; but I have been fancying that I was walking on my own property, and that all the land in sight belonged to me."

"Indeed, one might well have that illusion. See: even on the river, although it is very beautiful, there is not a vessel in sight: no steamboats, no barges, no skiffs, no washerwomen, not even a single fisherman on the shore! It's as deserted as the surrounding country!"

"Oh! sometimes there's loads of wood go down the Marne; I've seen 'em!"

"Those must be noteworthy days."

"The trouble is, you see, the Marne's as sly as the devil; it has holes and lots of grass. You have to know it well to risk it in a boat; and better, to bathe in it."

"But I don't object to this solitude, this perfect quiet."

"And then, at Chelles it isn't like this; you meet people there."

"True; we met as many as three people on our way to that poor farmer's.--So we do not need to cross the bridge, you say?"

"No, madame, there's Guillot's field at our left."

"And the Tower," said Agathe; "why don't we see it from here?"

"Because we're in a hollow; but it's over yonder, behind Gournay, toward Noisy-le-Grand. You wait till you see all this six weeks from now; then the trees will be green and the shrubs in flower, and it'll be much brighter than it is now."

"You are right, Père Ledrux."

"Look, there's Guillot's field, and I see Poucette digging."

Poucette was a tall, strong girl, with the bronzed skin of those who work in the fields. But her round face was honest and good-humored, her black eyes met yours unflinchingly, albeit without the slightest touch of boldness in their expression; and when she smiled, as she did very frequently, she showed a double row of teeth whose whiteness formed a striking contrast to her brown skin.

A little girl of eleven or twelve, with the head of a boy, whose hair, cut _à la Titus_, presented the aspect of a hedgehog, was working by Poucette's side; it was Claudine, the farmer's oldest child.

The two villagers stopped their work to look at the two young women who were coming toward them. In a region where you may walk all day without meeting a cat, one may be forgiven for suspending work to stare at two stylishly dressed ladies.

"Look! that's Père Ledrux!" suddenly exclaimed Poucette.

"Yes, my girl, and I have brought two ladies who want to speak to you."

"To me, Père Ledrux? Bah! you're joking! We don't know any fine ladies."

"You're going to know some; don't I tell you that madame's come here for you--to take you with her? Well! what do you say to that?"

The young peasant flushed to the hair and seemed dumfounded.

Madame Dalmont walked toward her.

"Mademoiselle," she said, "I am looking for a young girl to enter my service; for my friend and I are coming to live at Chelles."

"These ladies have bought Monsieur Courtivaux's house; you know where it is."