Part 3
"Speaking of Gisors, Mrs. Braytree, it's really a very interesting place--according to the guide-book. As far as I'm personally concerned, I'd be willing to take the time to go there to learn how to pronounce it. The workings of the mind which laid out the way to speak French don't at all jibe with the workings of the mind which laid out the way to spell it--not according to my way of thinking. There's that place which we've just left, for instance,--'Ruin' as plain as the nose on your--on anybody's face,--and its own inhabitants can't see it--pronounce the R in a way that I should think would make their tongues feel furry, and then end up as if, on second thought, they wouldn't end at all.
"Yvonne, I wish you'd hang out and see if you see any of Edna hanging out. I declare, this is a very trying situation to be in. You don't know what a trip I had, Mrs. Braytree, trying to keep track of these girls; and since we landed--well, I just had to call a halt in Havre and come off alone. Curious place, Havre, don't you think? See any one you knew there? We--who did you say? Why, that can't be, he's in Russia. Yvonne, didn't that young reprobate write you he was going to Russia? Yes, I thought so. Well, Mrs. Braytree says she saw him in Havre. Good joke his not knowing we were in Rouen; he'd have been down there in a jiffy, I'll bet anything. But your Uncle John is a rather tough customer to handle, and I expect that young man knows the fact, and so thought it best to give Rouen a wide berth. Not that I have anything in particular against young Reynolds, only I don't consider that any girl could be happy with him. And it's foolish to have a man around unless you can make him happy--I mean unless he can make you happy. My wife was very happy up to the time she developed melancholia--a sad disease, Mrs. Braytree. Yvonne, I wish you'd hang out and see if you can see anything of Edna.
"I presume this is as good a time as we'll have to study up a little on Gisors. It seems to have been the capital of the Vexin. I shouldn't be surprised if 'vex' and 'vexing' both come from that country, for the guide-book gives it as always in hot water. The French and English were both up against it most of the time, and it was vexin' with a vengeance. It says here that the old city walls are still standing and that Henry II built the castle. Isn't he the one we peeked around in Rouen? Yes, I thought so. It says that there's very little left of the castle, though. I must say I'm always glad when I read that there's not much left of anything; it gives me a quiet, rested sort of feeling."
_Gisors._
"Well, here we get out. I'll swing down first. If French trains were American, they'd have trapezes or elevators to--get--out--by. Here, give me your hand, Yvonne--oh, there's Edna. Well, I vow, who has she got--if it isn't--Yvonne, isn't that that young man--how d'ye do, Edgar? Delighted to see you again. Our friend, Mrs. Braytree, and all the others are her daughters. Come, Edna; you come with me while I check this trunk. Where in thunder did you get that fellow from? How does he come to be in Rouen? Did you know he was in Rouen? Did you see him while he was there? I declare, I never will travel with any women again unless I am married to them. This is awful. Don't you know I'm responsible for you two girls? And I send you ahead to get a compartment, and you find Edgar--it makes me want to swear. Say, was there any one else with you? Worse and worse. I was afraid there was something wrong when we kept hanging out and you never hung out at all. Well, we'll have to go back and gather them all up. Yes, I'll be polite to him; but, Edna, I hope you understand distinctly that a man like that could never make any woman--
"Yes, Mrs. Braytree, here we are again; and now we'll all proceed over Gisors. Pretty place, don't you think? Picturesque. Did you ever see so many canals--or smell so many?--and the little cottages out of another century? Packed roofs--green trees--well-sweeps--I like this; I'm glad I had the sense to come here. Edgar, will you oblige me by carrying that cane so that child doesn't come within an ace of catching her mouth on it every other second? I declare, Mrs. Braytree, I wish we hadn't run on to that young man. Of course he's a nice fellow and all that, but young men are a great trial when you have two--
"Let's turn down here. Most of the streets seem to be canal tow-paths. I vow, this _is_ pretty. I could settle down in a place like this and live till I died. What do you suppose the people here do to amuse themselves, anyhow? From the way they look at us with their mouths open I should imagine that we were regarded in the light of a great event. And if that's the case, they must be pretty hard up for sport. Oh, well, I presume it's enough for them to paddle about on the green waters and stir up the miasma--as much sense as foreigners have.
"And so these are the walls--ramparts, I mean. Well, they're fairly high. Wonder how high they are, anyhow? Edgar, will you do me the courtesy not to be pointing to the left with that cane of yours when I turn suddenly to the right again? I beg your pardon for seeming heated, Mrs. Braytree; but he really--
"Let's find a gate and go in; seems to be a park inside. I should think there _was_ 'little left to be seen of the castle!' I don't see anything at all of it. Maybe they took it down and built the walls higher just to fool tourists. Well, I didn't come to Gisors to caper about in a park; let's go out and look at the church--the guide-book says the church is worth seeing. I think there's something very touching about guide-book enthusiasm: it keeps up so consistently right through to the end. I feel as if my own enthusiasm was most run through now. I don't know how Paris will affect me. Edgar, if I trip on that cane you'll have to pay my doctor's bill. What makes you handle it as you do, anyway? I like to see a cane light and alert--not one that drags through the world in the style of yours. To judge from your cane, I should say you hadn't been in bed before three for a month. I have to speak sharply to that fellow, Mrs. Braytree; he is about as wooden-headed as they make. Came across the ocean with us, and pestered the life out of me. You don't know what an ocean voyage is with two attractive girls--I _beg_ your pardon; I forgot your four. Dear me! we were speaking of--yes--of Gisors, of course. I vow, I'm disappointed in it as a whole. I wish we'd gone to Les Andelys instead. Les Andelys is marked with an asterisk in the guide-book, and there's a castle there built by Coeur-de-Lion. By the way, Mrs. Braytree, the Coeur-de-Lion _itself_ is buried in Rouen. Did you know that? Nice joke, eh? But, dear, dear, if there's no castle here when we get here, perhaps there'd be none there when we got there. I'm beginning to look upon Europe as a confidence-game; I--
"Well is _that_ the castle! Great Scott! but it must have been big. It's big yet, and the book said there was very little left to see. I'm beginning to lose faith in that book. Picturesque idea, having the park hide the ruins till you come right smash on to them. Clever people, the French; make everything put the best foot foremost. Fine old round tower; nice tumble-down guard-chamber! I like this. Let's go around the other side. Great place, eh? Worth a trip to see. Edgar, let me have your cane to point with. There, do you see that old staircase? Looks Roman to me; what do you think? I tell you, a man could write an historical novel out of old ruins if he prowled long enough. Come on now; let's meander on down town and look at the church. As soon as I look at anything, I'm always ready to look at something else. Let's go out on this side and go back to town the other way. Then we'll look at the church, and then we'll put you and Edgar on the train for Rouen, Mrs. Braytree. What did you say, Yvonne? He isn't going to Rouen? Where is he going? To Paris with us! Well, well, well! all I can say is, I do admire his nerve. I never in all my life went where I wasn't asked, and took a cane. Now don't you see why no woman could be happy with a man like that? I never saw the beat. I tell you frankly, Yvonne, I don't like his ways and I don't like him. If you girls had let him alone on the boat, he'd have let us alone here. I declare, my day is just about spoiled. Your mother has trusted you girls to me, and I haven't drawn a quiet breath since. I did take a little comfort there in Rouen; but if I'd known that Lee was in Havre, I'd have been on thorns even there.
"Well, where is the church? Ask some one. What did she say? Down here? Down we go, then. Ah, I suppose that's it under the sidewalk. Nice commanding situation for a church, to grade a street by its tower! Why don't they put in the guide-book, 'Street commands a fine view of the roof?' There isn't time to go inside unless Mrs. Braytree wants to miss her train, and we don't want her to do that.
"This is the street to the _gare_, and we'll run right along. I expect we can get something to eat there, and get that 1:30 train for Beauvais. There isn't anything in Beauvais that would interest you, Mrs. Braytree; but there's a church there that I want to see. The guide-book says that Mr. Ruskin says that the roof has got a clear vertical fall that not many rocks in the Alps can equal; I don't just know what a clear vertical fall may be, but if there's a church anywhere near as high as an Alp, I don't want to miss seeing it.
"There's the clock. You just have time to get aboard comfortably. Don't you want to go with them, Edgar? Well, I thought maybe you might. Good-by, good-by; delighted to have met you. Good-by. Oh, yes, of course. In Paris.
"There, they're gone, darn 'em! Now let's get some lunch. Did you ever see such a collection as those girls? It must have been a bitter pill when, after managing to assimilate the looks of the three oldest, the little one appeared with her eyes laid out bias. Come in here; we can get something to eat here, I don't care what; but I want plenty. Don't lose your cane, Edgar; life wouldn't be life to you without it, I expect. I like these country hotel entrances, through a carriage-house and a duck-yard, fall over a cat, and come in. Tell her we want dinner for four, and prompt. You put that in good forcible French for me, Edgar, and I'll be grateful to you till I die. Let's sit down. Let's eat."
_Beauvais._
"Now, young people, I call this making a day count. This is my idea of getting about. Breakfast in Rouen, lunch in Gisors, Beauvais for a sandwich, and we'll dine in Paris.
"What time is it? Three o'clock. Well, we want to head straight for that cathedral. Seems as if it ought to show most anywhere over a little, low town like this, but I don't see it. Ask someone--ask any one. Well, what did they say? Right across the square. Whose statue is that in the middle? Joan of Arc? Jeanne Hachette? Who was Jeanne Hachette? Girl who captured flag from Charles the Bold, eh? Is that why they called him 'the Bold'? Sort of sarcastic on his letting a girl carry off his flag, I should consider. Well, when did she live? Has she got her year under her? 1492. Seventy years after Joan. I shouldn't have thought she'd have inspired other young women in this part of the country to emulate her.
"Do we go up here? Ugh, how I hate walking over cobble-stones! Clean; of course they're clean. I didn't say that I thought they were dirty. I said I hated to walk on 'em.
"What's that chopped-off creation before us? _Not_ the cathedral? Well--I--vow!
"Is _that_ what I--what we--
"Where's the front of it? What _did_ happen to it? And what _was_ Mr. Ruskin thinking of when he compared it to an Alp! I don't want to fall off of anywhere, but I'd choose the roof of that cathedral to start from any day in preference to the lowest Alp they make. 'Clear vertical fall' eh? I wish I knew what that meant.
"Well, let's go in. Where's the door? That little, unpretentious one looks feasible. Come on. Well, Edgar, are you coming, too, or do you choose to stay outside with your stick? I can't help it, Edna; I feel irritated at his being here at all, and then I'm naturally disappointed over this church. I must say the biggest thing about it is that blank wall stopping up where they left off. This is the kind of thing I've come several thousand miles to look at, is it? Well, may as well go in, I suppose.
"So this is in the inside! Fine lot of carpets hung up to try and cover the deficiencies, eh?--High roof,--funny sort of shock you get whenever you look towards the front. Sort of like turning around and hitting your cane, eh, Edgar? Girls, this cathedral was begun in 1180, time of Henry II, and they quit in 1555 while Bloody Mary was abroad and never got to the front end in the four hundred years. Well, well! dear, dear!
"Come on, girls, we may as well go out; I feel like going to the station and heading for Paris. I suppose that's the next move in the game. You can stay here as long as you like, Edgar; we won't hurry you.
"Come, Yvonne, you walk with me. Did you ever see anything like that young man's gall? Your friend Lee couldn't make any points around him. Just hooks right on to us, and stays hooked. I declare, if I carried a cane I bet I'd give him one punch he'd remember long after. I'd sincerely beg his pardon. I didn't like him on the steamer; I've got no use for young men of his stamp. I--"
_Gare du Nord, Paris._
"So this is Paris! Now, Edgar, I have one favor to ask of you--will you kindly allow me to manage my own affairs while you manage yours? I know just what to do, and I'll take Yvonne with me to do it. You can take Edna up to the hotel. Looked disappointed, didn't he? Counting on endearing himself to me forever by his able-bodied assistance, I'll wager; but I don't want any young man minding my business. Tell that blue blouse to take these checks and look up five trunks in a hurry. What did he say? We haven't got to overhaul them again here, have we? Well, I am--I certainly just _am_. Have we got to hunt 'em up? Where? Well, ask him? Round back of this crazy mob? Well, tell him to go first. What's this system of wildly speculating wheat-pits? Baggage-counters, eh? And will you look at the baggage! Talk about your 'clear vertical falls!' Those trunks on top will soon know more than Ruskin ever did.
"Where's our man gone? Yvonne, do you know where that fellow went to? Well, ask some one. Look out--that baggage truck will be Juggernauting right over you before you know it. Now, where _is_ the porter? I call this a pretty state of affairs--porter, valises, and trunk-checks all gone together. I thought you were watching him or I would have done so. Do you suppose we ought to speak to a policeman? I think we ought to. But will you look at the trunk-unlocking that's going on--good as a play--look how mad that old lady is; hear her give it to him in good English. Guess something got broke in transit. Keep a sharp eye out for that porter, Yvonne. Here come some more trunks, and more, and more yet. I wonder if this is regular, or if we've struck a rush. Where _is_ that porter? I think we ought to be speaking to a policeman, don't you? Here's a choice new invoice of a couple of thousand more trunks; that fellow will never be able to find ours, I know. Supposing he has found them and gone off with them already. Hey, look at that lady jumping up and down! She sees _her_ trunk, I'll bet a dollar. Well, I'd jump up and down if I could see mine. Yvonne, I really think we ought to speak to a policeman. Could you give a description of the man? I only remember that he wore a blue blouse. Oh, yes; and he had 'Commissionaire' across the front of his cap. Hello, here are nine trucks all at once, just a few million more additions to the turmoil. I tell you, we won't get out of here to-night, I don't believe. I vow, I wish I'd given the checks to Edgar, as he suggested. I really think we ought to be calling a policeman. Here are fourteen trucks all loaded to the gunwales, and two mass-meetings and one convention of tourists all at once. Yvonne, this is beginning to look serious to me; I think that really we ought to call--
"Oh, there he is with the whole of the stuff on one truck. Good idea; smart chap; and he wasn't so very long either, considering."
VI
YVONNE TO HER MOTHER
_Paris._
Dearest Mama: Well we _are_ arrived! It _is_ Paris at last! But I thought we should surely die in transit. I don't know what Uncle would have said if he had known that Lee was in Rouen; he was dreadfully upset over Mrs. Braytree's telling him that she saw Lee in Havre. He was very unreasonable, and laid it up against Lee that Mrs. Braytree saw him. Just as if Lee could help it.
We had a pretty good time coming down, only Mr. Edgar came up and came down with us, and of course Uncle did not like that. I think that Mr. Edgar came up to come down with me because we had a lovely time on the steamer coming over together, but Uncle hardly gave me a chance to speak to him. Uncle seems just instinctively to know whom Edna and I want to talk to, and then won't let us. But of course I'm not complaining, for it was lovely of him to give us this trip, and we're enjoying every minute.
We arrived last night, and the only drawback is that Mrs. Clary isn't here. She left a note, and M. Sibilet's wife _is_ his mother, and has a place out at Neuilly, and they were invited there for three days. She will be back to-morrow, and she left word for us to go straight to the Bon Marche and look at the white suits; so we did so. We told Uncle it was all right for us to go alone, and he had just gotten his mail, so he only said "Hum!" and we went. Just as we were taking the cab, who should we see but Mr. Chopstone. It was so lovely to see him again, and he got into the cab and went with us. We went to the Bon Marche, but it wasn't much fun with a man, so we came out after a little, and he proposed taking the Subway and going to the Trocadero. Just then we met a man that Mr. Chopstone knew, and he had red hair and eye-glasses. Mr. Chopstone introduced him, and invited him to go along; but he said it was no use, because it was the wrong day and we couldn't get in when we got there. By this time we were down in the Subway, and Mr. Chopstone suggested that we go to the Bois, so as not to have to go back up the stairs again. While we were talking, the train came and went in a terrible hurry, and we got aboard in between. After we were off, we found that Mr. Chopstone wasn't on. We didn't know what to do, because, of course, it was he that we knew, and not the red-haired man. The red-haired man said he would do whatever we pleased, and Edna thought we had better get right off; but I thought we ought to go right on. We didn't know _what_ to do, and so we kept on to the Bois.
The Bois was just lovely--all automobiles and babies; and who do you think we met? Betty Burleigh. We were so surprised, for I thought she was in California for her lungs; but it seems that she's been in Dresden for her music all winter, and now she's here for her clothes. She was with an elderly French lady, and I don't think that the elderly French lady liked to have her stop and talk to us. I thought at first that perhaps it wasn't proper on account of the red-haired man, but in a second I saw the real reason. Betty glanced around and said, "Oh, Madame, ou est Fakir?" Whereupon the elderly French lady looked absolutely terrified and tore madly off. We had quite a long talk before she came back with the most awful little black dog, which they evidently had _no_ string to. She put him down and began to look displeased again, and Betty just glanced about and said calmly, "Oh, Madame, ou es Fakir?" He had absolutely vanished again, and the elderly French lady sort of threw up her eyes and rushed wildly away. The red-haired man said, "Why don't you buy a chain for him?" Betty shrugged the Frenchiest kind of a shrug and said, "I don't have to chase him." The red-haired man said, "I should think she would buy the chain then!" and Betty shrugged a much Frenchier shrug, and said: "I wouldn't allow it. While she is running after him I can do as I please." The red-haired man laughed. Poor madame came panting up with the creature just then, and Betty said sweetly, "Laissez-lui courir," so she had to put him down; but I could see that she meant to keep a sharp eye on him. Betty wanted us all to come to the Palais and lunch with her; but of course we refused, because you wouldn't have liked it, and, anyway, we had to go back to Uncle. She wanted the red-haired man to stay, anyhow, and was quite put out when he declined. Just then two men in an automobile came up and asked her to go and see the balloon ascension. They didn't invite the elderly French lady, and she protested about "comme il faut"--but Betty said, "Ou est Fakir?" and, if you'll believe me, that little beast was gone again, and poor madame dashed off in pursuit. Betty made short work of bidding us good-by then, and at once got into the automobile, and was off.
We came slowly along back with the red-haired man, and at the Arc de Triomphe we ran into Mr. Chopstone. It seems he went a station too far because he met some people he knew in the car behind us, and he says we must all go to the Chatelet with him to-night to make up. He said "Uncle, too," so we accepted. Then we took a cab and came back to the hotel, where we found our beloved relative with his feet on the center-table, reading the Paris "Herald." He looked over the top at us and announced that he'd "done the Louvre." I think we must have looked startled, for he went on to say at once that he knew that it was something that had got to be done, and that he shouldn't enjoy, and so he had thought it best to go at it the first thing on the first morning and get it off his mind at once. He was very pleased with himself, because he says the "Baedeker" says that it takes two hours and a half to walk through, and he was only gone from the hotel two hours in all. Edna asked him if he spent much time looking at the pictures, and he said: "Young lady, if you'd ever been in the place, you'd never ask that question. Why, the whole thing is lined with pictures. I bet I dream of gilt frames for a week."
We had to go to lunch, and Uncle doesn't like the food very much; he says it strikes him as "flummery," and he is really very much vexed over Mrs. Clary's being at Neuilly. Edna is vexed because Harry is there, too, and I'm very much vexed indeed because she thoughtlessly gave Uncle the letter at lunch, and when he read about Monsieur Sibilet's wife being his mother he was more put out than ever. He said we could look out for ourselves this afternoon, as he had to go to the bank. Edna suggested that we go to the Louvre, and he said yes, that would be wise, because then we would all be free to enjoy ourselves. Uncle speaks of the Louvre exactly as if it were the semiannual siege at the dentist's. But he was kind enough to offer to leave us there on his way to the bank, and when we took the cab, he arranged with the cabman and the hotel-porter exactly what the fare was to be, and held it in his hand the whole way.