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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nobody's Girl, by Hector Malot
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Nobody's Girl
+       (En Famille)
+
+Author: Hector Malot
+
+Illustrator: Thelma Gooch
+
+Translator: Florence Crewe-Jones
+
+Release Date: January 3, 2009 [EBook #27690]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOBODY'S GIRL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jen Haines and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Some spelling variations have been standardised to
+agree with the original French version of "En Famille". For example
+"Madamoiselle" and "Mademoiselle" have been changed to Mademoiselle
+exclusively. Dr Cendrier, rather than Centrier, is correct according to
+the original French version, so Centrier has been changed to Cendrier.
+
+In the fourth last paragraph "daughter" has been corrected to
+"granddaughter".
+
+Some spelling, punctuation and grammatical errors have been
+corrected where detected.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "WHY, IT'S BEAUTIFUL," SAID PERRINE, SOFTLY. (See page 86)]
+
+
+     NOBODY'S
+     GIRL
+
+     (_En Famille_)
+
+     BY
+     HECTOR MALOT
+
+     TRANSLATED BY
+     FLORENCE CREWE-JONES
+
+    _Illustrated by_
+     THELMA GOOCH
+
+     NEW YORK     MCMXXII
+     CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
+
+    _Copyright, 1922, by_
+     CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
+
+     Printed in United States of America
+
+
+
+                          CONTENTS
+
+    CHAPTER                                   PAGE
+
+          I     PERRINE AND PALIKARE             1
+
+         II     GRAIN-OF-SALT IS KIND           20
+
+        III     "POOR LITTLE GIRL"              41
+
+         IV     A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL           47
+
+          V     STORMS AND FEARS                59
+
+         VI     THE RESCUE                      72
+
+        VII     MARAUCOURT AT LAST              77
+
+       VIII     GRANDFATHER VULFRAN             86
+
+         IX     ONE SLEEPLESS NIGHT             95
+
+          X     THE HUT ON THE ISLAND          110
+
+         XI     WORK IN THE FACTORY            115
+
+        XII     NEW SHOES                      130
+
+       XIII     STRANGE HOUSEKEEPING           136
+
+        XIV     A BANQUET IN THE HUT           149
+
+         XV     AURELIE'S CHANCE               157
+
+        XVI     GRANDFATHER'S INTERPRETER      166
+
+       XVII     HARD QUESTIONS                 175
+
+      XVIII     SECRETARY TO M. VULFRAN        184
+
+        XIX     SUSPICION AND CONFIDENCE       194
+
+         XX     THE SCHEMERS                   206
+
+        XXI     LETTERS FROM DACCA             217
+
+       XXII     A CABLE TO DACCA               227
+
+      XXIII     GRANDFATHER'S COMPANION        238
+
+       XXIV     GETTING AN EDUCATION           248
+
+        XXV     MEDDLING RELATIVES             260
+
+       XXVI     PAINFUL ARGUMENTS              269
+
+      XXVII     THE BLIND MAN'S GRIEF          277
+
+     XXVIII     AN UNRESPECTED FUNERAL         285
+
+       XXIX     THE ANGEL OF REFORM            292
+
+        XXX     GRANDFATHER FINDS PERRINE      302
+
+       XXXI     THE GRATEFUL PEOPLE            307
+
+
+
+
+    LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+                                                            PAGE
+
+    "WHY, IT'S BEAUTIFUL," SAID PERRINE, SOFTLY.
+          (_See Page 86_)                           _Frontispiece_
+
+    SOMETHING WARM PASSING OVER HER FACE MADE
+       HER OPEN HER EYES                                       72
+
+    "WHAT'S THE MATTER NOW?" HE CRIED, ANGRILY                124
+
+    SHE HAD SOME TIME AGO DECIDED ON THE SHAPE                139
+
+    SHE TRIED TO DO AS SHE WAS TOLD, BUT HER EMOTION
+       INCREASED AS SHE READ                                  218
+
+    HE TOLD HER THAT SHE WAS LIKE A LITTLE
+       DAUGHTER TO HIM                                        270
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+"Nobody's Girl," published in France under the title "En Famille",
+follows "Nobody's Boy" as a companion juvenile story, and takes place
+with it as one of the supreme juvenile stories of the world. Like
+"Nobody's Boy" it was also crowned by the Academy, and that literary
+judgment has also been verified by the test of time.
+
+"Nobody's Girl" is not a human document, such as is "Nobody's Boy", because
+it has more story plot, and the adventure is in a more restricted field,
+but it discloses no less the nobility of a right-minded child, and how
+loyalty wins the way to noble deeds and life. This is another beautiful
+literary creation of Hector Malot which every one can recommend as an
+ennobling book, of interest not only to childhood, page by page to the
+thrilling conclusion, but to every person who loves romance and
+character.
+
+Only details, irrelevant for readers in America, have been eliminated.
+Little Perrine's loyal ideals, with their inspiring sentiments, are
+preserved by her through the most discouraging conditions, and are
+described with the simplicity for which Hector Malot is famous. The
+building up of a little girl's life is made a fine example for every
+child. Every reader of this story leaves it inspired for the better way.
+
+                                                    THE PUBLISHERS.
+
+
+
+
+NOBODY'S GIRL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+PERRINE AND PALIKARE
+
+
+It was Saturday afternoon about 3 o'clock. There was the usual scene;
+outside the Gates of Bercy there was a crowd of people, and on the
+quays, four rows deep, carts and wagons were massed together. Coal
+carts, carts heaped with hay and straw, all were waiting in the clear,
+warm June sunshine for the examination from the custom official. All had
+been hurrying to reach Paris before Sunday.
+
+Amongst the wagons, but at some little distance from the Gates, stood an
+odd looking cart, a sort of caravan. Over a light frame work which was
+erected on four wheels was stretched a heavy canvas; this was fastened
+to the light roof which covered the wagon. Once upon a time the canvas
+might have been blue, but it was so faded, so dirty and worn, that one
+could only guess what its original color had been. Neither was it
+possible to make out the inscriptions which were painted on the four
+sides. Most of the words were effaced. On one side there was a Greek
+word, the next side bore part of a German word, on the third side were
+the letters F I A, which was evidently Italian, and on the last a newly
+painted French word stood out boldly. This was _PHOTOGRAPHIE_, and was
+evidently the translation of all the others, indicating the different
+countries through which the miserable wagon had come before it had
+entered France and finally arrived at the Gates of Paris.
+
+Was it possible that the donkey that was harnessed to it had brought the
+cart all this distance? At first glance it seemed impossible, but
+although the animal was tired out, one could see upon a closer view that
+it was very robust and much bigger than the donkeys that one sees in
+Europe. Its coat was a beautiful dark grey, the beauty of which could be
+seen despite the dust which covered it. Its slender legs were marked
+with jet black lines, and worn out though the poor beast was, it still
+held its head high. The harness, worthy of the caravan, was fastened
+together with various colored strings, short pieces, long pieces, just
+what was at hand at the moment; the strings had been carefully hidden
+under the flowers and branches which had been gathered along the roads
+and used to protect the animal from the sun and the flies.
+
+Close by, seated on the edge of the curb, watching the donkey, was a
+little girl of about thirteen years of age. Her type was very unusual,
+but it was quite apparent that there was a mixture of race. The pale
+blond of her hair contrasted strangely with the deep, rich coloring of
+her cheeks, and the sweet expression of her face was accentuated by the
+dark, serious eyes. Her mouth also was very serious. Her figure, slim
+and full of grace, was garbed in an old, faded check dress, but the
+shabby old frock could not take away the child's distinguished air.
+
+As the donkey had stopped just behind a large cart of straw, it would
+not have required much watching, but every now and again he pulled out
+the straw, in a cautious manner, like a very intelligent animal that
+knows quite well that it is doing wrong.
+
+"Palikare! stop that!" said the girl for the third time.
+
+The donkey again dropped his head in a guilty fashion, but as soon as he
+had eaten his wisps of straw he began to blink his eyes and agitate his
+ears, then again discreetly, but eagerly, tugged at what was ahead of
+him; this in a manner that testified to the poor beast's hunger.
+
+While the little girl was scolding him, a voice from within the caravan
+called out:
+
+"Perrine!"
+
+Jumping to her feet, the child lifted up the canvas and passed inside,
+where a pale, thin woman was lying on a mattress.
+
+"Do you need me, mama?"
+
+"What is Palikare doing, dear?" asked the woman.
+
+"He is eating the straw off the cart that's ahead of us."
+
+"You must stop him."
+
+"He's so hungry."
+
+"Hunger is not an excuse for taking what does not belong to us. What will
+you say to the driver of that cart if he's angry?"
+
+"I'll go and see that Palikare doesn't do it again," said the little girl.
+
+"Shall we soon be in Paris?"
+
+"Yes, we are waiting for the customs."
+
+"Have we much longer to wait?"
+
+"No, but are you in more pain, mother?"
+
+"Don't worry, darling; it's because I'm closed in here," replied the woman,
+gasping. Then she smiled wanly, hoping to reassure her daughter.
+
+The woman was in a pitiable plight. All her strength had gone and she could
+scarcely breathe. Although she was only about twenty-nine years of age, her
+life was ebbing away. There still remained traces of remarkable beauty: Her
+head and hair were lovely, and her eyes were soft and dark like her
+daughter's.
+
+"Shall I give you something?" asked Perrine.
+
+"What?"
+
+"There are some shops near by. I can buy a lemon. I'll come back at once."
+
+"No, keep the money. We have so little. Go back to Palikare and stop him
+from eating the straw."
+
+"That's not easy," answered the little girl.
+
+She went back to the donkey and pushed him on his haunches until he was
+out of reach of the straw in front of him.
+
+At first the donkey was obstinate and tried to push forward again, but she
+spoke to him gently and stroked him, and kissed him on his nose; then he
+dropped his long ears with evident satisfaction and stood quite still.
+
+There was no occasion to worry about him now, so she amused herself with
+watching what was going on around her.
+
+A little boy about her own age, dressed up like a clown, and who evidently
+belonged to the circus caravans standing in the rear, had been strolling
+round her for ten long minutes, without being able to attract her
+attention. At last he decided to speak to her.
+
+"That's a fine donkey," he remarked.
+
+She did not reply.
+
+"It don't belong to this country. If it does, I'm astonished."
+
+She was looking at him, and thinking that after all he looked rather
+like a nice boy, she thought she would reply.
+
+"He comes from Greece," she said.
+
+"Greece!" he echoed.
+
+"That's why he's called Palikare."
+
+"Ah! that's why."
+
+But in spite of his broad grin he was not at all sure why a donkey that
+came from Greece should be called Palikare.
+
+"Is it far ... Greece?"
+
+"Very far."
+
+"Farther than ... China?"
+
+"No, but it's a long way off."
+
+"Then yer come from Greece, then?"
+
+"No, farther than that."
+
+"From China?"
+
+"No, but Palikare's the only one that comes from Greece."
+
+"Are you going to the Fair?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Where yer goin'?"
+
+"Into Paris."
+
+"I know that, but where yer goin' to put up that there cart?"
+
+"We've been told that there are some free places round the
+fortifications."
+
+The little clown slapped his thighs with his two hands.
+
+"The fortifications: _Oh la la!_"
+
+"Isn't there any place?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then?"
+
+"It ain't the place for you ... round the fortifications! Have yer got
+any men with yer? Big strong men who are not afraid of a stab from a
+dagger. One who can give a jab as well as take one."
+
+"There is only my mother and me, and mother is ill."
+
+"Do you think much of that donkey?" he asked quickly.
+
+"I should say so!"
+
+"Well, the first thing he'll be stolen. He'll be gone tomorrow. Then
+the rest'll come after, and it's Fatty as tells yer so."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Should say so! You've never been to Paris before?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"That's easy to see. Some fools told you where to put your cart up, but
+you can't put it there. Why don't you go to Grain-of-Salt?"
+
+"I don't know Grain-of-Salt."
+
+"Why, he owns the Guillot Fields. You needn't be afraid of him, and he'd
+shoot anybody who tried to get in his place."
+
+"Will it cost much to go there?"
+
+"It costs a lot in winter, when everybody comes to Paris, but at this
+time I'm sure he won't make you pay more than forty sous a week. And
+your donkey can find its food in the field. Does he like thistles?"
+
+"I should say he does like them!"
+
+"Well, then, this is just the place for him, and Grain-of-Salt isn't a
+bad chap," said the little clown with a satisfied air.
+
+"Is that his name ... Grain-of-Salt?"
+
+"They call him that 'cause he's always thirsty. He's only got one arm."
+
+"Is his place far from here?"
+
+"No, at Charonne; but I bet yer don't even know where Charonne is?"
+
+"I've never been to Paris before."
+
+"Well, then, it's over there." He waved his arms vaguely in a northerly
+direction.
+
+"Once you have passed through the Gates, you turn straight to the
+right," he explained, "and you follow the road all along the
+fortifications for half an hour, then go down a wide avenue, then turn
+to your left, and then ask where the Guillot Field is. Everybody knows
+it."
+
+"Thank you. I'll go and tell mama. If you'll stand beside Palikare for a
+minute, I'll go and tell her at once."
+
+"Sure, I'll mind him for yer. I'll ask him to teach me Greek."
+
+"And please don't let him eat that straw."
+
+Perrine went inside the caravan and told her mother what the little
+clown had said.
+
+"If that is so," said the sick woman, "we must not hesitate; we must go
+to Charonne. But can you find the way?"
+
+"Yes, it's easy enough. Oh, mother," she added, as she was going out,
+"there are such a lot of wagons outside; they have printed on them
+'Maraucourt Factories,' and beneath that the name, 'Vulfran
+Paindavoine.' There are all kinds of barrels and things in the carts.
+Such a number!"
+
+"There is nothing remarkable in that, my child," said the woman.
+
+"Yes, but it's strange to see so many wagons with the same name on
+them," replied the girl as she left the caravan.
+
+Perrine found the donkey with his nose buried in the straw, which he was
+eating calmly.
+
+"Why, you're letting him eat it!" she cried to the boy.
+
+"Well, why not?" he retorted.
+
+"And if the man is angry?"
+
+"He'd better not be with me," said the small boy, putting himself in a
+position to fight and throwing his head back.
+
+But his prowess was not to be brought into action, for at this moment
+the custom officer began to search the cart of straw, and then gave
+permission for it to pass on through the Gates of Paris.
+
+"Now it's your turn," said the boy, "and I'll have to leave you.
+Goodbye, Mademoiselle. If you ever want news of me ask for Double Fat.
+Everybody knows me."
+
+The employes who guard the entrances of Paris are accustomed to strange
+sights, yet the man who went into Perrine's caravan looked surprised
+when he found a young woman lying on a mattress, and even more surprised
+when his hasty glance revealed to him the extreme poverty of her
+surroundings.
+
+"Have you anything to declare?" he asked, continuing his investigations.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"No wine, no provisions?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+This was only too true; apart from the mattress, the two cane chairs, a
+little table, a tiny stove, a camera and a few photographic supplies,
+there was nothing in this wagon; no trunks, no baskets, no clothes....
+
+"All right; you can pass," said the man.
+
+Once through the Gates, Perrine, holding Palikare by the bridle,
+followed the stretch of grass along the embankment. In the brown, dirty
+grass she saw rough looking men lying on their backs or on their
+stomachs. She saw now the class of people who frequent this spot. From
+the very air of these men, with their bestial, criminal faces, she
+understood why it would be unsafe for them to be there at night. She
+could well believe that their knives would be in ready use.
+
+Looking towards the city, she saw nothing but dirty streets and filthy
+houses. So this was Paris, the beautiful Paris of which her father had
+so often spoken. With one word she made her donkey go faster, then
+turning to the left she inquired for the Guillot Field.
+
+If everyone knew where it was situated, no two were of the same opinion
+as to which road she should take to get there, and several times, in
+trying to follow the various directions which were given to her, she
+lost her way.
+
+At last she found the place for which she was looking. This must be it!
+Inside the field there was an old omnibus without wheels, and a railway
+car, also without wheels, was on the ground. In addition, she saw a
+dozen little round pups rolling about. Yes, this was the place!
+
+Leaving Palikare in the street, she went into the field. The pups at
+once scrambled at her feet, barked, and snapped at her shoes.
+
+"Who's there?" called a voice.
+
+She looked around and saw a long, low building, which might have been a
+house, but which might serve for anything else. The walls were made of
+bits of stone, wood and plaster. Even tin boxes were used in its
+construction. The roof was made of tarred canvas and cardboard, and most
+of the window panes were of paper, although in one or two instances
+there was some glass. The man who designed it was another Robinson
+Crusoe, and his workman a man Friday.
+
+A one-armed man with a shaggy beard was sorting out rags and throwing
+them into the baskets around him.
+
+"Don't step on my dogs," he cried; "come nearer."
+
+She did as she was told.
+
+"Are you the owner of the Guillot Field?" she asked.
+
+"That's me!" replied the man.
+
+In a few words she told him what she wanted. So as not to waste his time
+while listening, he poured some red wine out of a bottle that stood on
+the ground and drank it down at a gulp.
+
+"It can be arranged if you pay in advance," he said, sizing her up.
+
+"How much?" she asked.
+
+"Forty sous a week for the wagon and twenty for the donkey," he
+replied.
+
+"That's a lot of money," she said, hesitatingly.
+
+"That's my price."
+
+"Your summer price?"
+
+"Yes, my summer price."
+
+"Can my donkey eat the thistles?"
+
+"Yes, and the grass also if his teeth are strong enough."
+
+"We can't pay for the whole week because we are only going to stay one
+day. We are going through Paris on our way to Amiens, and we want to
+rest."
+
+"Well, that's all right; six sous a day for the cart and three for the
+donkey."
+
+One by one she pulled out nine sous from the pocket in her skirt.
+
+"That's for the first day," she said, handing them to the man.
+
+"You can tell your people they can all come in," he said, "How many are
+there? If it's a whole company it's two sous extra for each person."
+
+"I have only my mother."
+
+"All right; but why didn't your mother come and settle this?"
+
+"She is in the wagon, ill."
+
+"Ill! Well, this isn't a hospital."
+
+Perrine was afraid that he would not let her sick mother come in.
+
+"I mean she's a little bit tired. We've come a long way."
+
+"I never ask people where they come from," replied the man gruffly. He
+pointed to a corner of the field, and added: "You can put your wagon
+over there and tie up the donkey. And if it squashes one of my pups
+you'll pay me five francs, one hundred sous ... understand?"
+
+As she was going he called out:
+
+"Will you take a glass of wine?"
+
+"No, thanks," she replied; "I never take wine."
+
+"Good," he said; "I'll drink it for you."
+
+He drained another glass, then returned to his collection of rags.
+
+As soon as she had installed Palikare in the place that the man had
+pointed out to her, which was accomplished not without some jolts,
+despite the care which she took, Perrine climbed up into the wagon.
+
+"We've arrived at last, poor mama," she said, bending over the woman.
+
+"No more shaking, no more rolling about," said the woman weakly.
+
+"There, there; I'll make you some dinner," said Perrine cheerfully.
+"What would you like?"
+
+"First, dear, unharness Palikare; he is very tired also; and give him
+something to eat and drink."
+
+Perrine did as her mother told her, then returned to the wagon and took
+out the small stove, some pieces of coal and an old saucepan and some
+sticks. Outside, she went down on her knees and made a fire; at last,
+after blowing with all her might, she had the satisfaction of seeing
+that it had taken.
+
+"You'd like some rice, wouldn't you?" she asked, leaning over her
+mother.
+
+"I am not hungry."
+
+"Is there anything else you would fancy? I'll go and fetch anything you
+want. What would you like, mama, dearie?"
+
+"I think I prefer rice," said her mother.
+
+Little Perrine threw a handful of rice into the saucepan that she had
+put on the fire and waited for the water to boil; then she stirred the
+rice with two white sticks that she had stripped of their bark. She only
+left her cooking once, to run over to Palikare to say a few loving words
+to him. The donkey was eating the thistles with a satisfaction, the
+intensity of which was shown by the way his long ears stood up.
+
+When the rice was cooked to perfection, Perrine filled a bowl and placed
+it at her mother's bedside, also two glasses, two plates and two forks.
+Sitting down on the floor, with her legs tucked under her and her skirts
+spread out, she said, like a little girl who is playing with her doll:
+"Now we'll have a little din-din, mammy, dear, and I'll wait on you."
+
+In spite of her gay tone, there was an anxious look in the child's eyes
+as she looked at her mother lying on the mattress, covered with an old
+shawl that had once been beautiful and costly, but was now only a faded
+rag.
+
+The sick woman tried to swallow a mouthful of rice, then she looked at
+her daughter with a wan smile.
+
+"It doesn't go down very well," she murmured.
+
+"You must force yourself," said Perrine; "the second will go down
+better, and the third better still."
+
+"I cannot; no, I cannot, dear!"
+
+"Oh, mama!"
+
+The mother sank back on her mattress, gasping. But weak though she was,
+she thought of her little girl and smiled.
+
+"The rice is delicious, dear," she said; "you eat it. As you do the work
+you must feed well. You must be very strong to be able to nurse me, so
+eat, darling, eat."
+
+Keeping back her tears, Perrine made an effort to eat her dinner. Her
+mother continued to talk to her. Little by little she stopped crying and
+all the rice disappeared.
+
+"Why don't you try to eat, mother?" she asked. "I forced myself."
+
+"But I'm ill, dear."
+
+"I think I ought to go and fetch a doctor. We are in Paris now and there
+are good doctors here."
+
+"Good doctors will not put themselves out unless they are paid."
+
+"We'll pay."
+
+"With what, my child?"
+
+"With our money. You have seven francs in your pocket and a florin which
+we could change here. I've got 17 sous. Feel in your pocket."
+
+The black dress, as worn as Perrine's skirt but not so dusty, for it had
+been brushed, was lying on the bed, and served for a cover. They found
+the seven francs and an Austrian coin.
+
+"How much does that make in all?" asked Perrine; "I don't understand
+French money."
+
+"I know very little more than you," replied her mother.
+
+Counting the florin at two francs, they found they had nine francs and
+eighty-five centimes.
+
+"You see we have more than what is needed for a doctor," insisted
+Perrine.
+
+"He won't cure me with words; we shall have to buy medicine."
+
+"I have an idea. You can imagine that all the time I was walking beside
+Palikare I did not waste my time just talking to him, although he likes
+that. I was also thinking of both of us, but mostly of you, mama,
+because you are sick. And I was thinking of our arrival at Maraucourt.
+Everybody has laughed at our wagon as we came along, and I am afraid if
+we go to Maraucourt with it we shall not get much of a welcome. If our
+relations are very proud, they'll be humiliated.
+
+"So I thought," she added, wisely, "that as we don't need the wagon any
+more, we could sell it. Now that you are ill, no one will let me take
+their pictures, and even if they would we have not the money to buy the
+things for developing that we need. We must sell it."
+
+"And how much can we get for it?"
+
+"We can get something; then there is the camera and the mattress."
+
+"Everything," said the sick woman.
+
+"But you don't mind, do you, mother, dear?..."
+
+"We have lived in this wagon for more than a year," said her mother;
+"your father died here, and although it's a poor thing, it makes me sad
+to part with it.... It is all that remains of him ... there is not one
+of these old things here that does not remind us of him...."
+
+She stopped, gasping; the tears were rolling down her cheeks.
+
+"Oh, forgive me, mother, for speaking about it," cried Perrine.
+
+"My darling, you are right. You are only a child, but you have thought
+of the things that I should have. I shall not be better tomorrow nor the
+next day, and we must sell these things, and we must decide to sell...."
+
+The mother hesitated. There was a painful silence.
+
+"Palikare," said Perrine at last.
+
+"You have thought that also?" asked the mother.
+
+"Yes," said Perrine, "and I have been so unhappy about it, and sometimes
+I did not dare look at him for fear he would guess that we were going to
+part with him instead of taking him to Maraucourt with us. He would have
+been so happy there after such a long journey."
+
+"If we were only sure of a welcome, but they may turn us away. If they
+do, all we can do then is to lie down by the roadside and die, but no
+matter what it costs, we must get to Maraucourt, and we must present
+ourselves as well as we can so that they will not shut their doors upon
+us...."
+
+"Would that be possible, mama?... The memory of papa ... he was so good.
+Could they be angry with him now he is dead?"
+
+"I am speaking as your father would have spoken, dear ... so we will
+sell Palikare. With the money that we get for him we will have a doctor,
+so that I can get stronger; then, when I am well enough, we will buy a
+nice dress for you and one for me, and then we'll start. We will take
+the train as far as we can and walk the rest of the way."
+
+"That boy who spoke to me at the Gates told me that Palikare was a fine
+donkey, and he knows, for he is in a circus. It was because he thought
+Palikare was so beautiful that he spoke to me."
+
+"I don't know how much an Eastern donkey would bring in Paris, but we'll
+see as soon as we can," said the sick woman.
+
+Leaving her mother to rest, Perrine got together their soiled clothing
+and decided to do some washing. Adding her own waist to a bundle
+consisting of three handkerchiefs, two pairs of stockings and two
+combinations, she put them all into a basin, and with her washboard and
+a piece of soap she went outside. She had ready some boiling water which
+she had put on the fire after cooking the rice; this she poured over the
+things. Kneeling on the grass, she soaped and rubbed until all were
+clean; then she rinsed them and hung them on a line to dry.
+
+While she worked, Palikare, who was tied up at a short distance from
+her, had glanced her way several times. When he saw that she had
+finished her task he stretched his neck towards her and sent forth five
+or six brays ... an imperative call.
+
+"Did you think I had forgotten you?" she called out. She went to him,
+changed his place, gave him some water to drink from her saucepan, which
+she had carefully rinsed, for if he was satisfied with all the food that
+they gave him, he was very particular about what he drank. He would only
+drink pure water from a clean vessel, or red wine ... this he liked
+better than anything.
+
+She stroked him and talked to him lovingly, like a kind nurse would to a
+little child, and the donkey, who had thrown himself down on the grass
+the moment he was free, placed his head against her shoulder. He loved
+his young mistress, and every now and again he looked up at her and
+shook his long ears in sign of utter content.
+
+All was quiet in the field and the streets close by were now deserted.
+From the distance came the dim roar of the great city, deep, powerful,
+mysterious; the breath and life of Paris, active and incessant, seemed
+like the roar of a mighty ocean going on and on, in spite of the night
+that falls.
+
+Then, in the softness of the coming night, little Perrine seemed to feel
+more impressed with the talk that she had had with her mother, and
+leaning her head against her donkey's, she let the tears, which she had
+kept back so long, flow silently, and Palikare, in mute sympathy, bent
+his head and licked her hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+GRAIN-OF-SALT IS KIND
+
+
+Many times that night Perrine, lying beside her mother, had jumped up and
+run to the well for water so as to have it fresh. In spite of her desire to
+fetch the doctor as early as possible the next morning, she had to wait
+until Grain-of-Salt had risen, for she did not know what doctor to call in.
+She asked him.
+
+Certainly he knew of a good doctor! and a famous one, too! who made his
+rounds in a carriage, not on foot, like doctors of no account. Dr.
+Cendrier, rue Rublet, near the Church; he was the man! To find the street
+she had only to follow the railway tracks as far as the station.
+
+When he spoke of such a great doctor who made his rounds in a carriage,
+Perrine was afraid that she would not have enough money to pay him, and
+timidly she questioned Grain-of-Salt, not daring to ask outright what she
+wanted to know. Finally he understood.
+
+"What you'd have to pay?" he asked. "It's a lot, but it won't be more than
+forty sous, and so as to make sure, you'll have to pay him in advance."
+
+Following the directions that Grain-of-Salt gave her, she easily found the
+house, but the doctor had not yet risen, so she had to wait. She sat down
+on a bench in the street, outside a stable door, behind which a coachman
+was harnessing a horse to a carriage. She thought if she waited there she
+would be sure to catch the doctor as he left the house, and if she gave him
+her forty sous he would consent to come. She was quite sure that he would
+not if she had simply asked him to visit a patient who was staying in the
+Guillot Field.
+
+She waited a long time; her suspense increased at the thought that her
+mother would be wondering what kept her away so long.
+
+At last an old-fashioned carriage and a clumsy horse came out of the
+stables and stood before the doctor's house. Almost immediately the
+doctor appeared, big, fat, with a grey beard.
+
+Before he could step into his carriage Perrine was beside him. She put
+her question tremblingly.
+
+"The Guillot Field?" he said. "Has there been a fight?"
+
+"No, sir; it's my mother who is ill."
+
+"Who is your mother?"
+
+"We are photographers."
+
+He put his foot on the step. She offered him her forty sous quickly.
+
+"We can pay you," she hastened to say.
+
+"Then it's sixty sous," said he.
+
+She added twenty sous more. He took the money and slipped it into his
+waistcoat pocket.
+
+"I'll be with your mother in about fifteen minutes," he said.
+
+She ran all the way back, happy, to take the good news.
+
+"He'll cure you, mama; he's a real, real doctor!" she said,
+breathlessly.
+
+She quickly busied herself with her mother, washing her hands and face
+and arranging her hair, which was beautiful, black and silky; then she
+tidied up the "room," which only had the result of making it look
+emptier and poorer still.
+
+She had not long to wait. Hearing the carriage in the road, she ran out
+to meet the doctor. As he was walking towards the house she pointed to
+the wagon.
+
+"We live there in our wagon," she said.
+
+He did not seem surprised; he was accustomed to the extreme poverty of
+his patients; but Perrine, who was looking at him, noticed that he
+frowned when he saw the sick woman lying on the mattress in the
+miserable cart.
+
+"Put out your tongue and give me your hand," he said.
+
+Those who pay forty or a hundred francs for a visit from a doctor have
+no idea of the brevity with which the poor people's cases are diagnosed.
+In less than a minute his examination was made.
+
+"A case for the hospital," he said.
+
+Simultaneously, little Perrine and her mother uttered a cry.
+
+"Now, child, leave me alone with your mother," he said in a tone of
+command.
+
+For a moment Perrine hesitated, but at a sign from her mother she left
+the wagon and stood just outside.
+
+"I am going to die," said the woman in a low voice.
+
+"Who says that? What you need is nursing, and you can't get that here."
+
+"Could I have my daughter at the hospital?"
+
+"She can see you Thursdays and Sundays."
+
+"What will become of her without me," murmured the mother, "alone in
+Paris? If I have to die I want to go holding her hand in mine."
+
+"Well, anyway, you can't be left in this cart. The cold nights would be
+fatal for you. You must take a room. Can you?"
+
+"If it is not for long, perhaps."
+
+"Grain-of-Salt can rent you one, and won't charge much; but the room is
+not all. You must have medicine and good food and care, all of which you
+would get at the hospital."
+
+"Doctor, that is impossible," said the sick woman. "I cannot leave my
+little girl. What would become of her?"
+
+"Well, it's as you like; it's your own affair. I have told you what I
+think."
+
+"You can come in, little girl, now," he called out. Then taking a leaf
+from his note pad, he wrote out a prescription.
+
+"Take that to the druggist, near the Church," he said, handing it to
+Perrine. "No other, mind you. The packet marked _No. 1_ give to your
+mother. Then give her the potion every hour. Give her the Quinquina
+wine when she eats, for she must eat anything she wants, especially
+eggs. I'll drop in again this evening."
+
+She ran out after him.
+
+"Is my mama very ill?" she asked.
+
+"Well ... try and get her to go to the hospital."
+
+"Can't you cure her?"
+
+"I hope so, but I can't give her what she'll get at the hospital. It is
+foolish for her not to go. She won't go because she has to leave you.
+Nothing will happen to you, for you look like a girl who can take care
+of yourself."
+
+Striding on, he reached his carriage. Perrine wanted him to say more,
+but he jumped in quickly and was driven off. She returned to the wagon.
+
+"Go quickly to the druggist; then get some eggs. Take all the money; I
+must get well," said the mother.
+
+"The doctor said he could cure you," said Perrine. "I'll go quickly for
+the things."
+
+But all the money she took was not enough. When the druggist had read
+the prescription he looked at Perrine.
+
+"Have you the money to pay for this?" he asked.
+
+She opened her hand.
+
+"This will come to seven francs, fifty," said the man who had already
+made his calculation.
+
+She counted what she had in her hand and found that she had six francs
+eighty-five centimes, in counting the Austrian florin as two francs. She
+needed thirteen sous more.
+
+"I have only six francs eighty-five centimes. Would you take this
+florin? I have counted that," she said.
+
+"Oh, no; I should say not!" replied the man.
+
+What was to be done? She stood in the middle of the store with her hand
+open. She was in despair.
+
+"If you'll take the florin there will be only thirteen sous lacking,"
+she said at last, "and I'll bring them this afternoon."
+
+But the druggist would not agree to this arrangement. He would neither
+give her credit for thirteen sous nor accept the florin.
+
+"As there is no hurry for the wine," he said, "you can come and fetch it
+this afternoon. I'll prepare the other things at once and they'll only
+cost you three francs fifty."
+
+With the money that remained she bought some eggs, a little Vienna loaf
+which she thought might tempt her mother's appetite, and then she
+returned to the Field, running as fast as she could all the way.
+
+"The eggs are fresh," she said. "I held them up to the light. And look
+at the bread! Isn't it a beautiful loaf, mama? You'll eat it, won't
+you?"
+
+"Yes, darling."
+
+Both were full of hope. Perrine had absolute faith in the doctor, and
+was certain that he would perform the miracle. Why should he deceive
+them? When one asks the doctor to tell the truth, doesn't he do so?
+
+Hope had given the sick woman an appetite. She had eaten nothing for
+two days; now she ate a half of the roll.
+
+"You see," said Perrine, gleefully.
+
+"Everything will be all right soon," answered her mother with a smile.
+
+Perrine went to the house to inquire of Grain-of-Salt what steps she
+should take to sell the wagon and dear Palikare.
+
+As for the wagon, nothing was easier. Grain-of-Salt would buy it
+himself; he bought everything, furniture, clothes, tools, musical
+instruments ... but a donkey! That was another thing. He did not buy
+animals, except pups, and his advice was that they should wait for a day
+and sell it at the Horse Market. That would be on Wednesday.
+
+Wednesday seemed a long way off, for in her excitement, and filled with
+hope, Perrine had thought that by Wednesday her mother would be strong
+enough to start for Maraucourt. But to have to wait like this! There was
+one thing, though: With what she got for the wagon she could buy the two
+dresses and the railway tickets, and if Grain-of-Salt paid them enough,
+then they need not sell Palikare. He could stay at the Guillot Field and
+she could send for him after they arrived at Maraucourt. Dear Palikare!
+How contented he would be to have a beautiful stable to live in and go
+out every day in the green fields.
+
+But alas! Grain-of-Salt would not give one sou over fifteen francs for
+the wagon.
+
+"Only fifteen francs!" she murmured.
+
+"Yes, and I am only doing that to oblige you. What do you think I can do
+with it?" he said. He struck the wheels and the shafts with an iron bar;
+then shrugged his shoulders in disgust.
+
+After a great deal of bargaining all she could get was two francs fifty
+on the price he had offered, and the promise that he would not take it
+until after they had gone, so that they could stay in it all day, which
+she thought would be much better for her mother than closed up in the
+house.
+
+After she had looked at the room that Grain-of-Salt was willing to rent,
+she realized how much the wagon meant to them, for in spite of the pride
+in which he spoke of his "Apartments," and the contempt in which he
+spoke of the wagon, Perrine was heartbroken at the thought that she must
+bring her dear mother to this dirty smelling house.
+
+As she hesitated, wondering if her mother would not be poisoned from the
+odor which came from the heaps of things outside, Grain-of-Salt said
+impatiently:
+
+"Hurry up! The rag pickers will be here in a moment and I'll have to get
+busy."
+
+"Does the doctor know what these rooms are like?" she asked.
+
+"Sure! He came to this one lots of times to see the Baroness."
+
+That decided her. If the doctor had seen the rooms he knew what he was
+doing in advising them to take one, and then if a Baroness lived in one,
+her mother could very well live in the other.
+
+"You'll have to pay one week in advance," said the landlord, "and three
+sous for the donkey and six for the wagon."
+
+"But you've bought the wagon," she said in surprise.
+
+"Yes, but as you're using it, it's only fair that you should pay."
+
+She had no reply to make to this. It was not the first time that she had
+been cheated. It had happened so often on their long journey.
+
+"Very well," said the poor little girl.
+
+She employed the greater part of the day in cleaning their room, washing
+the floor, wiping down the walls, the ceiling, the windows. Such a
+scrubbing had never been seen in that house since the place had been
+built!
+
+During the numerous trips that she made from the house to the pump she
+saw that not only did grass and thistles grow in the Field, but there
+were flowers. Evidently some neighbors had thrown some plants over the
+fence and the seeds had sprung up here and there. Scattered about she
+saw a few roots of wall-flowers, pinks and even some violets!
+
+What a lovely idea! She would pick some and put them in their room. They
+would drive away the bad odor, and at the same time make the place look
+gay.
+
+It seemed that the flowers belonged to no one, for Palikare was allowed
+to eat them if he wished, yet she was afraid to pick the tiniest one
+without first asking Grain-of-Salt.
+
+"Do you want to sell them?" he asked.
+
+"No, just to put a few in our room," she replied.
+
+"Oh, if that's it you may take as many as you like, but if you are going
+to sell them, I might do that myself. As it's for your room, help
+yourself, little one. You like the smell of flowers. I like the smell of
+wine. That's the only thing I can smell."
+
+She picked the flowers, and searching amongst the heap of broken glass
+she found an old vase and some tumblers.
+
+The miserable room was soon filled with the sweet perfume of
+wall-flowers, pinks and violets, which kept out the bad odors of the
+rest of the house, and at the same time the fresh, bright colors lent a
+beauty to the dark walls.
+
+While working, she had made the acquaintance of her neighbors. On one
+side of their room lived an old woman whose gray head was adorned with a
+bonnet decorated with the tri-color ribbon of the French flag. On the
+other side lived a big man, almost bent double. He wore a leather apron,
+so long and so large that it seemed to be his only garment. The woman
+with the tri-color ribbons was a street singer, so the big man told her,
+and no less a person than the Baroness of whom Grain-of-Salt had spoken.
+Every day she left the Guillot Field with a great red umbrella and a big
+stick which she stuck in the ground at the crossroads or at the end of a
+bridge. She would shelter herself from the sun or the rain under her red
+umbrella and sing, and then sell to the passersby copies of the songs
+she sang.
+
+As to the big man with the apron, he was a cobbler, so she learned from
+the Baroness, and he worked from morning to night. He was always silent,
+like a fish, and for this reason everybody called him Father Carp. But
+although he did little talking he made enough noise with his hammer.
+
+At sunset Perrine's room was ready. Her mother, as she was helped in,
+looked at the flowers with surprise and pleasure.
+
+"How good you are to your mama, darling," she murmured as she clung to
+Perrine's arm.
+
+"How good I am to myself," Perrine cried gayly, "because if I do
+anything that pleases you, I am so happy."
+
+At night they had to put the flowers outside. Then the odors of the old
+house rose up terribly strong, but the sick woman did not dare complain.
+What would be the use, for she could not leave the Guillot Field to go
+elsewhere?
+
+Her sleep was restless, and when the doctor came the next morning he
+found her worse, which made him change the treatment, and Perrine was
+obliged to go again to the druggist. This time he asked five francs to
+fill out the prescription. She did not flinch, but paid bravely,
+although she could scarcely breathe when she got outside the store. If
+the expenses continued to increase at this rate poor Palikare would have
+to be sold on Wednesday. He would have to go now anyway. And if the
+doctor prescribed something else the next day, costing five francs or
+more, where would she find the money?
+
+When, with her mother and father, she had tramped over the mountains,
+they had often been hungry, and more than once since they had left
+Greece on their way to France they had been without food. But hunger in
+the mountains and in the country was another thing--there was always the
+chance that they would find some wild fruit or vegetables. But in Paris
+there was no hope for those who had no money in their pockets.
+
+What would become of them? And the terrible thing was that she must take
+the responsibility. Her mother was too ill now to think or plan, and
+Perrine, although only a child, realized that she must now be the
+mother.
+
+On Tuesday morning her fears were realized. After a brief examination,
+the doctor took from his pocket that terrible notebook that Perrine
+dreaded to see and began to write. She had the courage to stop him.
+
+"Doctor, if the medicines which you are ordering are not all of the same
+importance," she said, "will you please write out those which are needed
+the most?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked angrily.
+
+She trembled but continued bravely:
+
+"I mean that we have not much money today, and we shall not get any
+perhaps until tomorrow ... so...."
+
+He looked at her, then glanced round the room, as though for the first
+time remarking their poverty; then he put his notebook back in his
+pocket.
+
+"We won't change the treatment until tomorrow, then," he said. "There is
+no hurry for this. Continue the same today."
+
+"No hurry!" Perrine repeated the words to herself. There was no hurry
+then ... her mother was not so ill as she had feared; they had just to
+wait and hope....
+
+Wednesday was the day for which she was waiting, yet at the same time
+how she dreaded it. Dear, dear Palikare.... Whenever her mother did not
+need her she would run out into the field and kiss his nose and talk to
+him, and as he had no work to do, and all the thistles to eat that he
+wanted and his little mistress' love, he was the happiest donkey in the
+world.
+
+"Ah, if you only knew," murmured Perrine, as she caressed him.
+
+But he did not know. All he knew was that she loved him and that the
+thistles were good. So, as she kissed and kissed, he brayed in
+contentment and shook his long ears as he looked at her from the corner
+of his eyes.
+
+Besides, he had made friends with Grain-of-Salt and had received a proof
+of his friendship in a way that flattered his greed. On Monday, having
+broken loose, he had trotted up to Grain-of-Salt, who was occupied in
+sorting out the rags and bones that had just arrived, and he stood
+beside him. The man was about to pour out a drink from the bottle that
+was always beside him when he saw Palikare, his eyes fixed on him, his
+neck stretched out.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he asked. As the words were not said in
+anger, the donkey knew, and he did not move.
+
+"Want a drink ... a glass of wine?" he asked mockingly. The glass that
+he was about to put to his lips he offered in a joke to the donkey.
+Palikare, taking the offer seriously, came a step nearer and pushing out
+his lips to make them as thin and as long as possible, drank a good half
+of the glass which had been filled to the brim.
+
+"_Oh la la! la la!_" cried Grain-of-Salt, bursting with laughter.
+"Baroness! Carp! Come here!"
+
+At his calls, the Baroness and Carp, also a rag picker who came into the
+field at that moment and a man with a push-cart who sold red and yellow
+and blue sugar sticks, ran up.
+
+"What's the matter?" demanded the Baroness.
+
+He filled the glass again and held it out to the donkey, who, as before,
+absorbed half of the contents amidst the laughter and shouts of those
+who looked on.
+
+"I heard that donkeys liked wine, but I never believed it," said the
+candy man.
+
+"You ought to buy him; he'd be a good companion for you," said the
+Baroness.
+
+"A fine pair," said another.
+
+But Grain-of-Salt did not buy him, although he took a great liking to
+him, and told Perrine that he would go with her on Wednesday to the
+Horse Market. This was a great relief for Perrine, for she had wondered
+how she would ever be able to find the place; neither did she know how
+to discuss prices, and she was very much afraid that she would be
+robbed. She had heard so many stories about Paris thieves, and what
+could she have done to protect herself?...
+
+Wednesday morning came. At an early hour she busied herself with
+brushing Palikare and making his beautiful coat shine so that he would
+look his best. How she kissed him! How she stroked him while her tears
+fell!
+
+When Palikare saw that instead of being hitched to the wagon, a rope was
+put round his neck, his surprise was great; and still more surprised was
+he when Grain-of-Salt, who did not want to walk all the way from
+Charonne to the Horse Market, climbed up on a chair and from the chair
+onto his back. But as Perrine held him and spoke to him, he offered no
+resistance. Besides, was not Grain-of-Salt his friend?
+
+They started thus. Palikare, still surprised, walked gravely along, led
+by Perrine. On through the streets they went. At first they met but few
+vehicles, and soon they arrived at a bridge which jutted into a large
+garden.
+
+"That's the Zoo," said Grain-of-Salt, "and I'm sure that they haven't
+got a donkey there like yours."
+
+"Then perhaps we can sell him to the Zoo," exclaimed Perrine, thinking
+that in a zoological garden all the animals have to do is to walk about
+and be looked at. That would be very nice for dear Palikare!
+
+"An affair with the Government," said Grain-of-Salt; "better not, 'cause
+the Government...."
+
+From his expression it was evident that Grain-of-Salt had no faith in
+the Government.
+
+From now on the traffic was intense. Perrine needed all her wits and
+eyes about her. After what seemed a long time they arrived at the Market
+and Grain-of-Salt jumped off the donkey. But while he was getting down
+Palikare had time to gaze about him, and when Perrine tried to make him
+go through the iron gate at the entrance he refused to budge.
+
+He seemed to know by instinct that this was a market where horses and
+donkeys were sold. He was afraid. Perrine coaxed him, commanded him,
+begged him, but he still refused to move. Grain-of-Salt thought that if
+he pushed him from behind he would go forward, but Palikare, who would
+not permit such familiarity, backed and reared, dragging Perrine with
+him.
+
+There was already a small circle of onlookers around them. In the first
+row, as usual, there were messenger boys and errand boys, each giving
+his word of advice as to what means to use to force the donkey through
+the gate.
+
+"That there donkey is going to give some trouble to the fool who buys
+him," cried one.
+
+These were dangerous words that might affect the sale, so Grain-of-Salt
+thought he ought to say something.
+
+"He's the cleverest donkey that ever was!" he cried. "He knows he's
+going to be sold, and he's doin' this 'cause he loves us and don't want
+ter leave us!"
+
+"Are you so sure of that, Grain-of-Salt?" called out a voice in the
+crowd.
+
+"Zooks! who knows my name here?" cried the one addressed.
+
+"Don't you recognize La Rouquerie?"
+
+"My faith, that's so," he cried, as the speaker came forward. They shook
+hands.
+
+"That donkey yours?"
+
+"No; it belongs to this little gal."
+
+"Do you know anything about it?"
+
+"We've had more than one glass together, and if you want a good donkey
+I'll speak for him."
+
+"I need one and yet I don't need one," said La Rouquerie.
+
+"Well, come and take a drink. 'Tain't worthwhile to pay for a place in
+the Market...."
+
+"Especially if he won't budge!"
+
+"I told you he was a smart one; he's that intelligent."
+
+"If I buy him it's not for his tricks nor 'cause he can take a drink
+with one, but he must work."
+
+"He can work, sure! He's come all the way from Greece without stopping."
+
+"From Greece!"
+
+Grain-of-Salt made a sign to Perrine to follow him, and Palikare, now
+that he knew that he was not going into the market, trotted beside her
+docilely. She did not even have to pull his rope.
+
+Who was this prospective buyer? A man? A woman? From the general
+appearance and the hairless face it might be a woman of about fifty, but
+from the clothes, which consisted of a workingman's blouse and trousers
+and a tall leather hat like a coachman wears, and from the short, black
+pipe which the individual was smoking, it surely was a man. But whatever
+it was, Perrine decided that the person looked kind. The expression was
+not hard or wicked.
+
+Grain-of-Salt and the stranger turned down a narrow street and stopped
+at a wine shop. They sat down at one of the tables outside on the
+pavement and ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses. Perrine remained
+by the curb, still holding her donkey.
+
+"You'll see if he isn't cunning," said Grain-of-Salt, holding out his
+full glass.
+
+Palikare stretched out his neck, thinned his lips and quickly drank the
+half glass of wine.
+
+But this feat did not give La Rouquerie any particular satisfaction.
+
+"I don't want him to drink my wine, but to drag my cart with the rabbit
+skins," she said.
+
+"Didn't I just tell you that he came from Greece, draggin' a wagon the
+whole way?"
+
+"Ah, that's another thing!"
+
+The strange looking woman carefully examined the animal; then she gave
+the greatest attention to every detail; then asked Perrine how much she
+wanted for him. The price which Perrine had arranged with her landlord
+beforehand was one hundred francs. This was the sum that she asked.
+
+La Rouquerie gave a cry of amazement. One hundred francs! Sell a donkey
+without any guarantee for that sum! Were they crazy? Then she began to
+find all kind of faults with the unfortunate Palikare.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Grain-of-Salt, after a lengthy discussion; "we'll
+take him to the Market."
+
+Perrine breathed. The thought of only getting twenty francs had stunned
+her. In their terrible distress what would twenty francs be? A hundred
+francs even was not sufficient for their pressing needs.
+
+"Let's see if he'll go in any more now than he did then," cried La
+Rouquerie.
+
+Palikare followed Perrine up to the Market gates obediently, but once
+there he stopped short. She insisted, and talked, and pulled at the
+rope, but it was no use. Finally he sat down in the middle of the
+street.
+
+"Palikare, do come! Do come, dear Palikare," Perrine said, imploringly.
+
+But he sat there as though he did not understand a word of what she was
+saying. A crowd gathered round and began to jeer.
+
+"Set fire to his tail," cried one.
+
+Grain-of-Salt was furious, Perrine in despair.
+
+"You see he won't go in," cried La Rouquerie. "I'll give thirty francs,
+that's ten more'n I said, 'cause his cunning shows that this donkey is a
+good boy, but hurry up and take the money or I'll buy another."
+
+Grain-of-Salt consulted Perrine with a glance; he made her a sign that
+she ought to accept the offer. But she seemed stunned at such a fraud.
+She was standing there undecided when a policeman told her roughly that
+she was blocking up the street and that she must move on.
+
+"Go forward, or go back, but don't stand there," he ordered.
+
+She could not go forward, for Palikare had no intention of doing so. As
+soon as he understood that she had given up all hope of getting him into
+the Market, he got up and followed her docilely, agitating his long ears
+with satisfaction.
+
+"Now," said La Rouquerie, after she had put thirty francs into poor
+Perrine's hand, "you must take him to my place, for I'm beginning to
+know him and he's quite capable of refusing to come with me. I don't
+live far from here."
+
+But Grain-of-Salt would not consent to do this; he declared that the
+distance was too far for him.
+
+"You go with the lady alone," he said to Perrine, "and don't be too cut
+up about your donkey. He'll be all right with her. She's a good woman."
+
+"But how shall I find my way back to Charonne?" asked Perrine,
+bewildered. She dreaded to be lost in the great city.
+
+"You follow the fortifications ... nothing easier."
+
+As it happened, the street where La Rouquerie lived was not far from the
+Horse Market, and it did not take them long to get there. There were
+heaps of garbage before her place, just like in Guillot Field.
+
+The moment of parting had come. As she tied Palikare up in a little
+stable, her tears fell on his head.
+
+"Don't take on so," said the woman; "I'll take care of him, I promise
+you."
+
+"We loved him so much," said little Perrine. Then she went on her way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"POOR LITTLE GIRL"
+
+
+What was she to do with thirty francs when she had calculated that they
+must at least have one hundred? She turned this question over in her
+mind sadly as she walked along by the fortifications. She found her way
+back easily. She put the money into her mother's hand, for she did not
+know how to spend it. It was her mother who decided what to do.
+
+"We must go at once to Maraucourt," she said.
+
+"But are you strong enough?" Perrine asked doubtfully.
+
+"I must be. We have waited too long in the hope that I should get
+better. And while we wait our money is going. What poor Palikare has
+brought us will go also. I did not want to go in this miserable
+state...."
+
+"When must we go? Today?" asked Perrine.
+
+"No; it's too late today. We must go tomorrow morning. You go and find
+out the hours of the train and the price of the tickets. It is the Gare
+du Nord station, and the place where we get out is Picquigny."
+
+Perrine anxiously sought Grain-of-Salt. He told her it was better for
+her to consult a time table than to go to the station, which was a long
+way off. From the time table they learned that there were two trains in
+the morning, one at six o'clock and one at ten, and that the fare to
+Picquigny, third class, was nine francs twenty-five centimes.
+
+"We'll take the ten o'clock train," said her mother, "and we will take a
+cab, for I certainly cannot walk to the station."
+
+And yet when nine o'clock the next day came she could not even get to
+the cab that Perrine had waiting for her. She attempted the few steps
+from her room to the cab, but would have fallen to the ground had not
+Perrine held her.
+
+"I must go back," she said weakly. "Don't be anxious ... it will pass."
+
+But it did not pass, and the Baroness, who was watching them depart, had
+to bring a chair. The moment she dropped into the seat she fainted.
+
+"She must go back and lie down," said the Baroness, rubbing her cold
+hands. "It is nothing, girl; don't look so scared ... just go and find
+Carp. The two of us can carry her to her room. You can't go ... not just
+now."
+
+The Baroness soon had the sick woman in her bed, where she regained
+consciousness.
+
+"Now you must just stay there in your bed," said the Baroness, kindly.
+"You can go just as well tomorrow. I'll get Carp to give you a nice cup
+of bouillon. He loves soup as much as the landlord loves wine; winter
+and summer he gets up at five o'clock and makes his soup; good stuff it
+is, too. Few can make better."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, she went to Carp, who was again at his
+work.
+
+"Will you give me a cup of your bouillon for our patient?" she asked.
+
+He replied with a smile only, but he quickly took the lid from a
+saucepan and filled a cup with the savory soup.
+
+The Baroness returned with it, carrying it carefully, so as not to spill
+a drop.
+
+"Take that, my dear lady," she said, kneeling down beside the bed.
+"Don't move, but just open your lips."
+
+A spoonful was put to the sick woman's lips, but she could not swallow
+it. Again she fainted, and this time she remained unconscious for a
+longer time. The Baroness saw that the soup was not needed, and so as
+not to waste it, she made Perrine take it.
+
+A day passed. The doctor came, but there was nothing he could do.
+
+Perrine was in despair. She wondered how long the thirty francs that La
+Rouquerie had given her would last. Although their expenses were not
+great, there was first one thing, then another, that was needed. When
+the last sous were spent, where would they go? What would become of them
+if they could get no more money?
+
+She was seated beside her mother's bedside, her beautiful little face
+white and drawn with anxiety. Suddenly she felt her mother's hand,
+which she held in hers, clasp her fingers more tightly.
+
+"You want something?" she asked quickly, bending her head.
+
+"I want to speak to you ... the hour has come for my last words to you,
+darling," said her mother.
+
+"Oh, mama! mama!" cried Perrine.
+
+"Don't interrupt, darling, and let us both try to control ourselves. I
+did not want to frighten you, and that is the reason why, until now, I
+have said nothing that would add to your grief. But what I have to say
+must be said, although it hurts us both. We are going to part...."
+
+In spite of her efforts, Perrine could not keep back her sobs.
+
+"Yes, it is terrible, dear child, and yet I am wondering if, after all,
+it is not for the best ... that you will be an orphan. It may be better
+for you to go alone than to be taken to them by a mother whom they have
+scorned. Well, God's will is that you should be left alone ... in a few
+hours ... tomorrow, perhaps...."
+
+For a moment she stopped, overcome with emotion.
+
+"When I ... am gone ... there will be things for you to do. In my pocket
+you will find a large envelope which contains my marriage certificate.
+The certificate bears my name and your father's. You will be asked to
+show it, but make them give it back to you. You might need it later on
+to prove your parentage. Take great care of it, dear. However, you
+might lose it, so I want you to learn it by heart, so that you will
+never forget it. Then, when a day comes and you need it, you must get
+another copy. You understand? Remember all that I tell you."
+
+"Yes, mama; yes."
+
+"You will be very unhappy, but you must not give way to despair. When
+you have nothing more to do in Paris ... when you are left alone ...
+then you must go off at once to Maraucourt ... by train if you have
+enough money ... on foot, if you have not. Better to sleep by the
+roadside and have nothing to eat than to stay in Paris. You promise to
+leave Paris at once, Perrine?"
+
+"I promise, mama," sobbed the little girl.
+
+The sick woman made a sign that she wanted to say more, but that she
+must rest for a moment. Little Perrine waited, her eyes fixed on her
+mother's face.
+
+"You will go to Maraucourt?" said the dying woman after a few moments
+had passed. "You have no right to claim anything ... what you get must
+be for yourself alone ... be good, and make yourself loved. All is there
+... for you. I have hope ... you will be loved for yourself ... they
+cannot help loving you ... and then your troubles will be over, my
+darling."
+
+She clasped her hands in prayer. Then a look of heavenly rapture came
+over her face.
+
+"I see," she cried; "I see ... my darling will be loved! She will be
+happy ... she will be cared for. I can die in peace now with this
+thought ... Perrine, my Perrine, keep a place in your heart for me
+always, child...."
+
+These words, which seemed like an exaltation to Heaven, had exhausted
+her; she sank back on the mattress and sighed. Perrine waited ...
+waited. Her mother did not speak. She was dead. Then the child left the
+bedside and went out of the house. In the field she threw herself down
+on the grass and broke into sobs. It seemed as though her little heart
+would break.
+
+It was a long time before she could calm herself. Then her breath came
+in hiccoughs. Vaguely she thought that she ought not to leave her mother
+alone. Someone should watch over her.
+
+The field was now filled with shadows; the night was falling. She
+wandered about, not knowing where she went, still sobbing.
+
+She passed the wagon for the tenth time. The candy man, who had watched
+her come out of the house, went towards her with two sugar sticks in his
+hand.
+
+"Poor little girl," he said, pityingly.
+
+"Oh!..." she sobbed.
+
+"There, there! Take these," he said, offering her the candy. "Sweetness
+is good for sorrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL
+
+
+The last prayers had been uttered. Perrine still stood before the grave.
+The Baroness, who had not left her, gently took her arm.
+
+"Come," she said; "you must come away," she added more firmly as Perrine
+attempted to resist her.
+
+Holding her tightly by the arm, she drew her away. They walked on for
+some moments, Perrine not knowing what was passing around her, nor
+understanding where they were leading her. Her thoughts, her spirit, her
+heart, were with her mother.
+
+At last they stopped in one of the side paths; then she saw standing
+round her the Baroness, who had now let go of her arm, Grain-of-Salt and
+the candy man, but she saw them only vaguely. The Baroness had black
+ribbons on her bonnet; Grain-of-Salt was dressed like a gentleman and
+wore a high silk hat; Carp had replaced his leather apron by a black
+Prince Albert which came down to his feet, and the candy man had cast
+aside his white blouse for a cloth coat. For, like the real Parisian who
+practises the cult of the dead, they had dressed themselves up in their
+best to pay respect to the one they had just buried.
+
+"I want to tell you, little one," commenced Grain-of-Salt, who thought
+that he should speak first, being the most important person present; "I
+want to tell you that you can stay as long as you like in Guillot Fields
+without paying."
+
+"If you'd like to sing with me," said the Baroness, "you can earn enough
+to live on. It's a nice profession."
+
+"If you'd like to go into the candy business, I'll teach you; that's a
+real trade and a nice one," said the candy man.
+
+Carp said nothing, but with a smile and a gesture he let her understand
+that she could always find a bowl of soup at his place ... and good
+soup, too!
+
+Perrine's eyes filled with fresh tears, soft tears which washed away the
+bitterness of the burning ones which for two days had flowed from her
+eyes.
+
+"How good you all are to me," she murmured.
+
+"One does what one can," said Grain-of-Salt.
+
+"One should not leave an honest little girl like you on the streets of
+Paris," said the Baroness.
+
+"I must not stay in Paris," replied Perrine; "I must go at once to my
+relations."
+
+"You have relations?" exclaimed Grain-of-Salt, looking at the others
+with an air which said that he did not think that those relations could
+be worth much. "Where are your relations?"
+
+"Near Amiens."
+
+"And how can you go to Amiens? Have you got money?"
+
+"Not enough to take the train, but I'm going to walk there."
+
+"Do you know the way?"
+
+"I have a map in my pocket...."
+
+"Yes, but does that tell you which road you have to take from here, here
+in Paris?"
+
+"No, but if you will tell me...."
+
+They all were eager to give her this information, but it was all so
+confused and contradictory that Grain-of-Salt cut the talk short.
+
+"If you want to lose yourself in Paris, just listen to what they are
+saying," he said. "Now, this is the way you must go," and he explained
+to her which road she should take. "Now, when do you want to go?"
+
+"At once; I promised my mother," said Perrine.
+
+"You must obey her," said the Baroness, solemnly, "but not before I've
+kissed you; you're a good girl."
+
+The men shook hands with her.
+
+She knew she must leave the cemetery, yet she hesitated and turned once
+more towards the grave that she had just left, but the Baroness stopped
+her.
+
+"As you are obliged to go, go at once; it is best," she said.
+
+"Yes, go," said Grain-of-Salt.
+
+When she had climbed into the car on the belt line she took an old map
+of France from her pocket which she had consulted many times alone since
+they left Italy. From Paris to Amiens the road was easy; she had only to
+take the Calais road; this was indicated on her map by a little black
+line. From Amiens she would go to Boulogne, and as she had learned also
+to calculate distances, she thought that to Maraucourt it ought to be
+about one hundred and fifty-eight miles.
+
+But could she do all those miles, regularly ... go on day after day? She
+knew that to walk four or five miles by chance on one day was a very
+different matter to taking a long, continuous journey like she was
+contemplating. There would be bad days ... rainy days ... and how long
+would her money last? She had only five francs thirty-five centimes
+left. The train pulled up at the station at which she had to get out.
+Now she had to turn to the right, and as the sun would not go down for
+two or three hours she hoped to be far away from Paris by night, and
+find a place in the open country where she could sleep.
+
+Yet as far as her eyes could see there was nothing but houses and
+factories, factories with great tall chimneys sending forth clouds of
+thick, black smoke, and all along the road wagons, tramways and carts.
+Again she saw a lot of trucks bearing the name that she had noticed
+while waiting to pass through the Gates: "Maraucourt Factories, Vulfran
+Paindavoine."
+
+Would Paris ever end? Would she ever get out of this great city? She was
+not afraid of the lonely fields, nor the silence of the country at
+night, nor the mysterious shadows, but of Paris, the crowd, the lights.
+She was now on the outskirts of the city. Before leaving it (although
+she had no appetite), she thought she would buy a piece of bread so
+that she would have something to eat before going to sleep. She went
+into a baker shop.
+
+"I want some bread, please," she said.
+
+"Have you any money?" demanded the woman, who did not seem to put much
+confidence in Perrine's appearance.
+
+"Yes, and I want one pound, please. Here is five francs. Will you give
+me the change?"
+
+Before cutting the bread the woman took up the five franc piece and
+examined it.
+
+"What! that!" she exclaimed, making it ring on the marble slab.
+
+"It's a five franc piece," said Perrine.
+
+"Who told you to try and pass that off on me?" asked the woman, angrily.
+
+"No one, and I am asking you for a pound of bread for my supper."
+
+"Well, then, you won't get any bread, and you'd better get out of here
+as quickly as you can before I have you arrested."
+
+"Arrested! Why?" she stammered in surprise.
+
+"Because you're a thief!"
+
+"Oh!..."
+
+"You want to pass counterfeit money on me. You vagabond ... you thief!
+Be off! No, wait; I'll get a policeman."
+
+Perrine knew that she was not a thief, whether the money was real or
+false, but vagabond she was. She had no home, no parents. What would she
+answer the policeman? They would arrest her for being a vagabond.
+
+She put this question to herself very quickly, but although her fear was
+great, she thought of her money.
+
+"If you don't wish to sell me the bread, at least you can give me back
+my money," she said, holding out her hand.
+
+"So that you can pass it on someone else, eh? I'll keep your money. If
+you want it, go and fetch the police," cried the woman, furiously. "Be
+off, you thief."
+
+The woman's loud cries could be heard in the street, and several people
+by now had gathered round the door.
+
+"What's the matter?" someone cried.
+
+"Why, this girl here is trying to rob my till," shouted the woman.
+"There never is a cop when one wants one."
+
+Terrified, Perrine wondered how she could get out, but they let her pass
+as she made for the door, hissing her and calling her names as she ran.
+She ran on and on, too afraid to turn round to see if anyone was
+following her.
+
+After a few minutes, which to her seemed hours, she found herself in the
+country, and was able to stop and breathe. No one was calling after her;
+no one following her.
+
+After her fears had calmed down she realized that she had nothing to eat
+and no money. What should she do? Instinctively she glanced at the
+fields by the wayside. She saw beets, onions, cabbages, but there was
+nothing there ready to eat, and besides, even if there had been ripe
+melons and trees laden with fruit, what good would they have been to
+her; she could not stretch out her hand to pick the fruit any more than
+she could stretch it out to beg of the passersby. No, little Perrine was
+not a thief, nor a beggar, nor a vagabond.
+
+She felt very depressed. It was eventide, and in the quietness of the
+twilight she realized how utterly alone she was; but she knew that she
+must not give way; she felt that while there was still light she must
+walk on, and by the time night fell perhaps she would have found a spot
+where she could sleep in safety.
+
+She had not gone far before she found what she thought would be the very
+place. As she came to a field of artichokes she saw a man and woman
+picking artichoke heads and packing them in baskets, which they piled up
+in a cart that stood by the roadside. She stopped to look at them at
+their work. A moment later another cart driven by a girl came up.
+
+"So you're getting yours all in?" called out the girl.
+
+"Should say so, and it's none too soon," replied the man. "It's no fun
+sleeping here all night to watch for those rogues. I at least shall
+sleep in my bed tonight."
+
+"And what about Monneau's lot?" grinned the girl.
+
+"Oh, Monneau's a sly dog," answered the man; "he counts on us others
+watching out for his. He's not going to be here tonight. Serve him
+right if he finds all his gone!"
+
+All three laughed heartily. They were not over-anxious that Monneau
+should prosper. Didn't he profit by their watch to take his own slumbers
+in peace?
+
+"That'll be a joke, eh?"
+
+"Wait for me," said the girl. "I won't be a jiffy; then we'll go
+together."
+
+The man and the woman waited, and in a few minutes the girl had finished
+her task and the two carts, laden with artichokes, went towards the
+village. Perrine stood in the deserted road looking at the two fields,
+which presented such a difference in appearance. One was completely
+stripped of its vegetables; the other was filled with a splendid crop.
+At the end of the field was a little hut made of branches where the man
+who watched the field had slept. Perrine decided that she would stay
+there for the night, now that she knew it would not be occupied by the
+watch. She did not fear that she would be disturbed, yet she dared not
+take possession of the place until it was quite dark. She sat down by a
+ditch and waited, thankful that she had found what she wanted. Then at
+last, when it was quite dark and all was quiet, she picked her way
+carefully over the beds of artichokes and slipped into the hut. It was
+better inside than she had hoped, for the ground was covered with straw
+and there was a wooden box that would serve her for a pillow.
+
+Ever since she had run from the baker's shop it had seemed to her that
+she was like a tracked animal, and more than once she had looked behind
+her with fear, half expecting to see the police on her heels.
+
+She felt now in the hut that she was safe. Her nerves relaxed. After a
+few minutes she realized that she had another cause for anxiety. She was
+hungry, very hungry. While she was tramping along the roads, overwhelmed
+by her great loss, it had seemed to her that she would never want to eat
+or drink again. She felt the pangs of hunger now and she had only one
+sou left. How could she live on one sou for five or six days? This was a
+very serious question. But then, had she not found shelter for the
+night; perhaps she would find food for the morrow.
+
+She closed her eyes, her long black lashes heavy with tears. The last
+thing at night she had always thought of her dead father; now it was the
+spirits of both her father and her mother that seemed to hover around
+her. Again and again she stretched out her arms in the darkness to them,
+and then, worn out with fatigue, with a sob she dropped off to sleep.
+
+But although she was tired out, her slumbers were broken. She turned and
+tossed on the straw. Every now and again the rumbling of a cart on the
+road would wake her, and sometimes some mysterious noise, which in the
+silence of the night made her heart beat quickly. Then it seemed to her
+that she heard a cart stop near the hut on the road. She raised herself
+on her elbow to listen.
+
+She had not made a mistake; she heard some whispering. She sprang to her
+feet and looked through the cracks of the hut. A cart had stopped at the
+end of the field, and by the pale light from the stars she could dimly
+see the form of a man or woman throwing out baskets to two others, who
+carried them into the field. This was Monneau's lot. What did it mean at
+such an hour? Had Monneau come so late to cut his artichokes?
+
+Then she understood! These were the thieves! They had come to strip
+Monneau's field! They quickly cut the artichoke heads and heaped them up
+in the baskets. The woman had taken the cart away; evidently they did
+not want it to stay on the road while they worked for fear of attracting
+the attention of anyone passing by.
+
+What would happen to her if the thieves saw her? She had heard that
+thieves sometimes killed a person who caught them at their work. There
+was the chance that they would not discover her. For they certainly knew
+that the hut would not be occupied on this night that they had planned
+to strip the field. But if they caught her? And then ... if they were
+arrested, she would be taken with them!
+
+At this thought cold beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead.
+Thieves work quickly; they would soon have finished!
+
+But presently they were disturbed. From the distance could be heard the
+noise of a cart on the paved road. As it drew nearer they hid
+themselves, lying down flat between the artichoke beds.
+
+The cart passed. Then they went on with their work even more quickly. In
+spite of their feverish haste it seemed to little Perrine that they
+would never be finished. Every moment she feared that someone would come
+and catch them and she be arrested with them.
+
+If she could only get away. She looked about her to see if it were
+possible for her to leave the hut. This could easily be done, but then
+they would be sure to see her once she was on the road. It would be
+better to remain where she was.
+
+She lay down again and pretended to sleep. As it was impossible for her
+to go out without being seen, it was wiser to pretend that she had not
+seen anything if they should come into the hut.
+
+For some time they went on cutting the artichokes. Then there was
+another noise on the road. It was their cart coming back. It stopped at
+the end of the field. In a few minutes the baskets were all stowed in
+the cart and the thieves jumped in and drove off hurriedly in the
+direction of Paris.
+
+If she had known the hour she could have slept until dawn, but not
+knowing how long she had been there, she thought that it would be better
+if she went on her way. In the country people are about at an early
+hour. If, when day broke, the laborers going to work saw her coming out
+of the hut, or even if they saw her round about the field, they might
+suspect her of having been with the thieves and arrest her.
+
+So she slipped out of the hut, ears on the alert for the slightest
+noise, eyes glancing in every direction.
+
+She reached the main road, then hurried off. The stars in the skies
+above were disappearing, and from the east a faint streak of light lit
+the shadows of the night and announced the approach of day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+STORMS AND FEARS
+
+
+She had not walked far before she saw in the distance a black mass
+silhouetted against the dawning light to the grey sky. Chimneys, houses
+and steeples rose up in the coming dawn, leaving the rest of the
+landscape obscure in the shadows.
+
+She reached the first straggling cottages of the village. Instinctively
+she trod more softly on the paved road. This was a useless precaution,
+for with the exception of the cats which ran about the streets, everyone
+slept, and her little footsteps only awoke a few dogs who barked at her
+behind closed gates.
+
+She was famished; she was weak and faint with hunger.
+
+What would become of her if she dropped unconscious? She was afraid she
+might soon. So that this would not happen, she thought it better to rest
+a minute, and as she was now passing before a barn full of hay, she went
+in quietly and threw herself down on the soft bed. The rest, the warmth,
+and also the sweet smell of the hay, soothed her and soon she slept.
+
+When she awoke the sun was already high in the heavens and was casting
+its rays over the fields where men and women were busily at work.
+
+The pangs of hunger were now more acute than ever. Her head whirled; she
+was so giddy that she could scarcely see where she went as she staggered
+on. She had just reached the top of a hill, and before her, close by,
+was the village with its shops. She would spend her last sou for a piece
+of bread! She had heard of people finding money on the road; perhaps she
+would find a coin tomorrow; anyhow, she must have a piece of bread now.
+
+She looked carefully at the last sou she possessed. Poor little girl,
+she did not know the difference between real money and false, and
+although she thought this sou looked real, she was very nervous when she
+entered the first baker shop that she came across.
+
+"Will you cut me a sou's worth of bread?" she asked, timidly.
+
+The man behind the counter took from the basket a little penny roll and
+handed it to her. Instead of stretching out her hand, she hesitated.
+
+"If you'll cut a piece for me," she said, "it doesn't matter if it is
+not today's bread."
+
+The baker gave her a large piece of bread that had been on the counter
+for two or three days.
+
+What did that matter? The great thing was that it was larger than the
+little penny roll. It was worth two rolls.
+
+As soon as it was in her hand her mouth filled with water. But she would
+not eat it until she had got out of the village. This she did very
+quickly. As soon as she had passed the last house, she took her little
+knife from her pocket and made a cross on the piece of bread so as to be
+able to cut it into four equal parts. She took one piece, keeping the
+three others for the three following days, hoping that it might last her
+until she reached Amiens.
+
+She had calculated this as she had hurried through the village, and it
+had seemed such an easy matter. But scarcely had she swallowed a
+mouthful of her little piece of bread than she felt that the strongest
+arguments had no power against hunger. She was famished! She must eat!
+The second piece followed the first, the third followed the second.
+Never had her will power been so weak. She was hungry; she must have it
+... all ... all. Her only excuse was that the pieces were so tiny. When
+all four were put together, the whole only weighed a half a pound. And a
+whole pound would not have been enough for her in her ravenous
+condition. The day before she had only had a little cup of soup that
+Carp had given her. She devoured the fourth piece.
+
+She went on her way. Although she had only just eaten her piece of
+bread, a terrible thought obsessed her. Where would she next get a
+mouthful? She now knew what torture she would have to go through ... the
+pangs of hunger were terrible to endure. Where should she get her next
+meal? She walked through two more villages. She was getting thirsty now,
+very thirsty. Her tongue was dry, her lips parched. She came to the
+last house in the village, but she did not dare ask for a glass of
+water. She had noticed that the people looked at her curiously, and even
+the dogs seemed to show their teeth at the ragged picture she presented.
+
+She must walk on. The sun was very hot now, and her thirst became more
+intense as she tramped along the white road. There was not a tree along
+the road, and little clouds of dust rose around her every instant,
+making her lips more parched. Oh, for a drink of water! The palate of
+her mouth seemed hard, like a corn.
+
+The fact that she was thirsty had not worried her at first. One did not
+have to go into a shop to buy water. Anybody could have it. When she saw
+a brook or a river she had only to make a cup of her hands and drink all
+she wanted. But she had walked miles in the dust and could see no sign
+of water. At last she picked up some little round stones and put them in
+her mouth. Her tongue seemed to be moister while she kept them there.
+She changed them from time to time, hoping that she would soon come to a
+brook.
+
+Then suddenly the atmosphere changed, and although the heat was still
+suffocating, the sun was hidden. Thick black clouds filled the sky. A
+storm was coming on, there would be rain, and she would be able to hold
+her mouth up to it, or she could stoop down to the puddles that it made
+and drink!
+
+The wind came up. A terrific swirl, carrying clouds of dust and leaves,
+swept over the country and battered down the crops, uprooting plants and
+shrubs in its mad fracas. Perrine could not withstand this whirlwind. As
+she was lifted off her feet, a deafening crash of thunder shook the
+earth. Throwing herself down in the ditch, she laid flat on her stomach,
+covering her mouth and her eyes with her two small hands. The thunder
+rolled heavily on.
+
+A moment ago she had been mad with thirst and had prayed that the storm
+would break quickly; now she realized that the storm would not only
+bring thunder and rain, but lightning--terrible flashes of lightning
+that almost blinded her.
+
+And there would be torrents of rain and hail! Where could she go? Her
+dress would be soaked, and how could she dry it?
+
+She clambered out of the ditch. In the distance she saw a wood. She
+thought that she might find a nook there where she could take shelter.
+
+She had no time to lose. It was very dark. The claps of thunder became
+more frequent and louder, and the vivid lightning played fantastically
+on the black sky.
+
+Would she be able to reach the wood before the storm broke? She ran as
+quickly as her panting breath would allow, now and again casting a look
+behind her at the black clouds which seemed to be sweeping down upon
+her.
+
+She had seen terrible storms in the mountains when travelling with her
+father and mother, but they were with her then; now she was alone. Not
+a soul near her in this desolate country. Fortunately the wind was
+behind her; it blew her along, at times carrying her off her feet. If
+she could only keep up this pace; the storm had not caught up with her
+yet.
+
+Holding her elbows against her little body and bending forward, she ran
+on ... but the storm also made greater strides.
+
+At this moment came a crash, louder and heavier. The storm was just over
+her now and the ground around her was cleaved with blue flames. It was
+better to stop running now; far better be drenched than struck down by
+lightning.
+
+Soon a few drops of rain fell. Fortunately she was nearing the wood, and
+now she could distinguish clearly the great trees. A little more
+courage. Many times her father had told her that if one kept one's
+courage in times of danger one stood a better chance of being saved. She
+kept on.
+
+When at last she entered the forest it was all so black and dark she
+could scarcely make out anything. Then suddenly a flash of lightning
+dazzled her, and in the vivid glare she thought she saw a little cabin
+not far away to which led a bad road hollowed with deep ruts. Again the
+lightning flashed across the darkness, and she saw that she had not made
+a mistake. About fifty steps farther on there was a little hut made of
+faggots, that the woodcutters had built.
+
+She made a final dash; then, at the end of her strength, worn out and
+breathless, she sank down on the underbrush that covered the floor.
+
+She had not regained her breath when a terrible noise filled the forest.
+The crash, mingled with the splintering of wood, was so terrific that
+she thought her end had come. The trees bent their trunks, twisting and
+writhing, and the dead branches fell everywhere with a dull, crackling
+sound.
+
+Could her hut withstand this fury? She crawled to the opening. She had
+no time to think--a blue flame, followed by a frightful crash, threw her
+over, blinded and dazed. When she came to herself, astonished to find
+that she was still alive, she looked out and saw that a giant oak that
+stood near the hut had been struck by lightning. In falling its length
+the trunk had been stripped of its bark from top to bottom, and two of
+the biggest branches were twisted round its roots.
+
+She crept back, trembling, terrified at the thought that Death had been
+so near her, so near that its terrible breath had laid her low. As she
+stood there, pale and shaking, she heard an extraordinary rolling sound,
+more powerful than that of an express train. It was the rain and the
+hail which was beating down on the forest. The cabin cracked from top to
+bottom; the roof bent under the fury of the tempest, but it did not fall
+in. No house, however solid, could be to her what this little hut was at
+this moment, and she was mistress of it.
+
+She grew calm; she would wait here until the storm had passed. A sense
+of well-being stole over her, and although the thunder continued to
+rumble and the rain came down in a deluge, and the wind whistled through
+the trees, and the unchained tempest went on its mad way through the air
+and on the earth, she felt safe in her little hut. Then she made a
+pillow for her head from the underbrush, and stretching herself out, she
+fell asleep.
+
+When she awoke the thunder had stopped, but the rain was still falling
+in a fine drizzle. The forest, with its solitude and silence, did not
+terrify her. She was refreshed from her long sleep and she liked her
+little cabin so much that she thought she would spend the night there.
+She at least had a roof over her head and a dry bed.
+
+She did not know how long she had slept, but that did not matter; she
+would know when night came.
+
+She had not washed herself since she had left Paris, and the dust which
+had covered her from head to foot made her skin smart. Now she was
+alone, and there was plenty of water in the ditch outside and she would
+profit by it.
+
+In her pocket she had, beside her map and her mother's certificate, a
+few little things tied up in a rag. There was a piece of soap, a small
+comb, a thimble, and a spool of thread, in which she had stuck two
+needles. She undid her packet; then taking off her vest, her shoes, and
+her stockings, she leaned over the ditch, in which the water flowed
+clear, and soaped her face, shoulders and feet. For a towel she had only
+the rag she had used to tie up her belongings, and it was neither big
+nor thick, but it was better than nothing.
+
+This _toilette_ did her almost as much good as her sleep. She combed her
+golden hair in two big braids and let them hang over her shoulders. If
+it were not for the little pain in her stomach, and the few torn places
+in her shoes, which had been the cause of her sore feet, she would have
+been quite at ease in mind and body.
+
+She was hungry, but there was nothing she could do. She could not find a
+bit of nourishment in this cabin, and as it was still raining, she felt
+that she ought not to leave this shelter until the next day.
+
+Then when night came her hunger became more intense, till finally she
+began to cut some twigs and nibble on them, but they were hard and
+bitter, and after chewing on them for a few minutes she threw them away.
+She tried the leaves; they went down easier.
+
+While she ate her meal and darned her stockings, night came on. Soon all
+was dark and silent. She could hear no other sound than that of the
+raindrops falling from the branches.
+
+Although she had made up her mind to spend the night there, she
+experienced a feeling of fright at being all alone in this black forest.
+True, she had spent a part of the day in the same place, running no
+other danger than that of being struck, but the woods in the daytime are
+not like the woods at night, with the solemn silence and the mysterious
+shadows, which make one conjure up the vision of so many weird things.
+
+What was in the woods? she wondered. Wolves, perhaps!
+
+At this thought she became wide awake, and jumping up, she found a big
+stick, which she cut to a point with her knife; then she strewed
+branches and fagots all around her, piling them high. She could at least
+defend herself behind her rampart.
+
+Reassured, she laid down again, and it was not long before she was
+asleep.
+
+The song of a bird awoke her. She recognized at once the sweet, shrill
+notes of a blackbird. Day was breaking. She began to shake, for she was
+chilled to the bone. The dampness of the night had made her clothes as
+wet as though she had been through a shower.
+
+She jumped to her feet and shook herself violently like a dog. She felt
+that she ought to move about, but she did not want to go on her way yet,
+for it was not yet light enough for her to study the sky to see if it
+were going to rain again. To pass the time, and still more with the wish
+to be on the move, she arranged the fagots which she had disturbed the
+night before. Then she combed her hair and washed herself in the ditch,
+which was full of water.
+
+When she had finished the sun had risen, and the sky gleamed blue
+through the branches of the trees. There was not the slightest cloud to
+be seen. She must go.
+
+Although she had darned her stockings well which had worn away through
+the holes in her shoes, the continual tramp, tramp, tramp, made her
+little feet ache. After a time, however, she stepped out with a regular
+step on the road, which had been softened by the rain, and the rays from
+the beautiful sun fell upon her back and warmed her.
+
+Never had she seen such a lovely morning. The storm, which had washed
+the roads and the fields, had given new life to the plants. Surely this
+was a good omen. She was full of hope.
+
+Her imagination began to soar on wings. She hoped that somebody had had
+a hole in their pockets and had lost some money, and that she could find
+it on the road. She hoped she might find something, not a purse full,
+because she would have to try to find the owner, but just a little coin,
+one penny, or perhaps ten cents. She even thought that she might find
+some work to do, something that could bring her in a few cents.
+
+She needed so little to be able to live for three or four days.
+
+She trudged along with her eyes fixed on the ground, but neither a
+copper nor a silver coin did she see, and neither did she meet anybody
+who could give her work.
+
+Oh, for something to eat! She was famished. Again and again she had to
+sit down by the wayside, she was so weak from lack of food.
+
+She wondered if she found nothing would she have to sit down by the road
+and die.
+
+Finally she came to a field and saw four young girls picking peas. A
+peasant woman seemed to be in charge.
+
+Gathering courage, she crossed over the road and walked towards the
+woman. But the woman stopped her before she could reach her.
+
+"What cher want?" she shouted.
+
+"I want to know if I can help, too," answered Perrine.
+
+"We don't want no one!"
+
+"You can give me just what you wish."
+
+"Where d'ye come from?"
+
+"From Paris."
+
+One of the girls raised her head and cast her an angry look.
+
+"The galavanter!" she cried, "she comes from Paris to try to get our
+job."
+
+"I told yer we don't want nobody," said the woman again.
+
+There was nothing to do but to go on her way, which she did with a heavy
+heart.
+
+"Look out! A cop's comin'!" cried one of the girls.
+
+Perrine turned her head quickly, and they all burst out laughing, amused
+at the joke.
+
+She had not gone far before she had to stop. She could not see the road
+for the tears which filled her eyes. What had she done to those girls
+that they should be so mean to her?
+
+Evidently it was as difficult for tramps to get work as it was for them
+to find pennies. She did not dare ask again for a job. She dragged her
+feet along, only hurrying when she was passing through the villages so
+that she could escape the stares.
+
+She was almost prostrated when she reached a wood. It was mid-day and
+the sun was scorching; there was not a breath of air. She was exhausted
+and dripping with perspiration. Then her heart seemed to stop and she
+fell to the ground, unable to move or think.
+
+A wagon coming up behind her passed by.
+
+"This heat'll kill one," shouted the driver.
+
+In a half conscious state she caught his words. They came to her like in
+a dream; it was as though sentence had been passed upon her.
+
+So she was to die? She had thought so herself, but now a messenger of
+Death was saying so.
+
+Well, she would die. She could keep up no longer. Her father was dead,
+and her mother was dead, now she was going to die. A cruel thought
+flitted through her dull brain. She wondered why she could not have died
+with them rather than in a ditch like a poor animal.
+
+She tried to make a last effort to get to the wood where she could find
+a spot to lie down for her last sleep, somewhere away from the road. She
+managed to drag herself into the wood, and there she found a little
+grassy spot where violets were growing. She laid down under a large
+tree, her head on her arm, just as she did at night when she went to
+sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE RESCUE
+
+
+Something warm passing over her face made her open her eyes. Dimly she
+saw a large velvety head bending over her. In terror she tried to throw
+herself on one side, but a big tongue licked her cheek and held her to
+the grass. So quickly had this happened that she had not had time to
+recognize the big velvety head which belonged to a donkey, but while the
+great tongue continued to lick her face and hands she was able to look
+up at it.
+
+Palikare! It was dear, dear Palikare! She threw her arms around her
+donkey's neck and burst into tears.
+
+"My darling, dear, darling Palikare," she murmured.
+
+When he heard his name he stopped licking her and lifting his head he
+sent forth five or six triumphant brays of happiness. Then, as though
+that was not enough to express his contentment, he let out five or six
+more, but not quite so loud.
+
+Perrine then noticed that he was without a harness or a rope.
+
+While she stroked him with her hand and he bent his long ears down to
+her, she heard a hoarse voice calling:
+
+"What yer found, old chap? I'll be there in a minute. I'm comin', old
+boy."
+
+[Illustration: SOMETHING WARM PASSING OVER HER FACE MADE HER OPEN HER
+EYES.]
+
+There was a quick step on the road, and Perrine saw what appeared to be
+a man dressed in a smock and wearing a leather hat and with a pipe in
+his mouth.
+
+"Hi, kid, what yer doin' with my donkey?" he cried, without taking the
+pipe from his lip.
+
+Then Perrine saw that it was the rag woman to whom she had sold Palikare
+at the Horse Market. The woman did not recognize her at first. She
+stared hard at her for a moment.
+
+"Sure I've seen yer somewhere," she said at last.
+
+"It was I who sold you Palikare," said Perrine.
+
+"Why, sure it's you, little one, but what in Heaven's name are you doin'
+here?"
+
+Perrine could not reply. She was so giddy her head whirled. She had been
+sitting up, but now she was obliged to lie down again, and her pallor
+and tears spoke for her.
+
+"What's the matter? Are you sick?" demanded La Rouquerie.
+
+Although Perrine moved her lips as though to speak, no sound came. Again
+she was sinking into unconsciousness, partly from emotion, partly from
+weakness.
+
+But La Rouquerie was a woman of experience; she had seen all miseries.
+
+"The kid's dying of hunger," she muttered to herself.
+
+She hurried over the road to a little truck over the sides of which
+were spread out some dried rabbit skins. The woman quickly opened a box
+and took out a slice of bread, a piece of cheese and a bottle. She
+carried it back on the run.
+
+Perrine was still in the same condition.
+
+"One little minute, girlie; one little minute," she said encouragingly.
+
+Kneeling down beside little Perrine, she put the bottle to her lips.
+
+"Take a good drink; that'll keep you up," she said.
+
+True, the good drink brought the blood back to her cheeks.
+
+"Are you hungry?"
+
+"Yes," murmured Perrine.
+
+"Well, now you must eat, but gently; wait a minute."
+
+She broke off a piece of bread and cheese and offered it to her.
+
+"Eat it slowly," she said, advisedly, for already Perrine had devoured
+the half of what was handed to her. "I'll eat with you, then you won't
+eat so fast."
+
+Palikare had been standing quietly looking on with his big soft eyes.
+When he saw La Rouquerie sit down on the grass beside Perrine, he also
+knelt down beside them.
+
+"The old rogue, he wants a bite, too," said the woman.
+
+"May I give him a piece?" asked Perrine.
+
+"Yes, you can give him a piece or two. When we've eaten this there is
+more in the cart. Give him some; he is so pleased to see you again, good
+old boy. You know he _is_ a good boy."
+
+"Yes, isn't he a dear?" said Perrine, softly.
+
+"Now when you've eaten that you can tell me how you come to be in these
+woods pretty near starved to death. Sure it'd be a pity for you to kick
+the bucket yet awhile."
+
+After she had eaten as much as was good for her, Perrine told her story,
+commencing with the death of her mother. When she came to the scene she
+had had with the baker woman at St. Denis, the woman took her pipe from
+her mouth and called the baker woman some very bad names.
+
+"She's a thief, a thief!" she cried. "I've never given bad money to no
+one, 'cause I never take any from nobody. Be easy! She'll give that back
+to me next time I pass by her shop, or I'll put the whole neighborhood
+against her. I've friends at St. Denis, and we'll set her store on fire
+if she don't give it up!"
+
+Perrine finished her story.
+
+"You was just about goin' to die," said La Rouquerie; "what was the
+feelin' like?"
+
+"At first I felt very sad," said Perrine, "and I think I must have cried
+like one cries in the night when one is suffocating; then I dreamed of
+Heaven and of the good food I should have there. Mama, who was waiting
+for me, had made me some milk chocolate; I could smell it."
+
+"It's funny that this heat wave, which was going to kill you, really
+was the cause of yer bein' saved. If it hadn't been for this darned heat
+I never should have stopped to let that donkey rest in this wood, and
+then he wouldn't have found yer. What cher goin' to do now?"
+
+"Go on my way."
+
+"And tomorrow? What yer got to eat? One's got to be young like you to
+take such a trip as this."
+
+"But what could I do?"
+
+La Rouquerie gravely took two or three puffs at her pipe. She was
+thoughtful for a moment; then she said:
+
+"See here, I'm goin' as far as Creil, no farther. I'm buyin' odds and
+ends in the villages as I go along. It's on the way to Chantilly, so you
+come along with me. Now yell out a bit if you've got the strength:
+'Rabbit skins! Rags and bones to sell!'"
+
+Perrine straightened herself and cried out as she was told.
+
+"That's fine! You've got a good, clear voice. As I've got a sore throat,
+you can do the calling out for me, so like that you'll earn your grub.
+When we get to Creil I know a farmer there who goes as far as Amiens to
+get eggs and things. I'll ask him to take you in his cart. When you get
+to Amiens you can take the train to where yer relations hang out."
+
+"But what with? How can I take a train?"
+
+"I'll advance you the five francs that I'm goin' to get back from that
+baker. I'll get it! So I'll give yer five francs for your fare."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MARAUCOURT AT LAST
+
+
+Things came to pass as La Rouquerie had arranged. For eight days Perrine
+ran through the streets of the villages and towns crying out: "Rabbit
+skins! Rags! Bones!"
+
+"You've got a voice that would make yer famous for this here business,"
+said La Rouquerie admiringly, as Perrine's clear treble was heard in the
+streets. "If yer'd stay with me you'd be doin' me a service and yer
+wouldn't be unhappy. You'd make a livin'. Is it a go?"
+
+"Oh, thank you, but it's not possible," replied Perrine.
+
+Finding that the reasons she advanced were not sufficient to induce
+Perrine to stay with her, La Rouquerie put forth another:
+
+"And yer wouldn't have to leave Palikare."
+
+This was a great grief, but Perrine had made up her mind.
+
+"I must go to my relations; I really must," she said.
+
+"Did your relatives save yer life, like that there donkey?" insisted La
+Rouquerie.
+
+"But I promised my mother."
+
+"Go, then, but you see one fine day you'll be sorry yer didn't take what
+I offered yer p'raps."
+
+"You are very kind and I shall always remember you."
+
+When they reached Creil, La Rouquerie hunted up her friend, the farmer,
+and asked him to give Perrine a lift in his cart as far as Amiens. He
+was quite willing, and for one whole day Perrine enjoyed the comfort of
+lying stretched out on the straw, behind two good trotting horses. At
+Essentaux she slept in a barn.
+
+The next day was Sunday, and she was up bright and early and quickly
+made her way to the railway station. Handing her five francs to the
+ticket seller she asked for a ticket to Picquigny. This time she had the
+satisfaction of seeing that her five francs was accepted. She received
+her ticket and seventy-five cents in change.
+
+It was 12 o'clock when the train pulled in at the station at Picquigny.
+It was a beautiful, sunny morning, the air was soft and warm, far
+different from the scorching heat which had prostrated her in the woods,
+and she ... how unlike she was from that miserable little girl who had
+fallen by the wayside. And she was clean, too. During the days she had
+spent with La Rouquerie she had been able to mend her waist and her
+skirt, and had washed her linen and shined her shoes. Her past
+experience was a lesson: she must never give up hope at the darkest
+moment; she must always remember that there was a silver cloud, if she
+would only persevere.
+
+She had a long walk after she got out of the train at Picquigny. But
+she walked along lightly past the meadows bordered with poplars and
+limes, past the river where the villagers in their Sunday clothes were
+fishing, past the windmills which, despite the fact that the day was
+calm, were slowly moving round, blown by the breeze from the sea which
+could be felt even there.
+
+She walked through the pretty village of St. Pipoy, with its red roofs
+and quaint church, and over the railway tracks which unites the towns
+wherein Vulfran Paindavoine has his factories, and which joins the main
+line to Boulogne.
+
+As Perrine passed the pretty church the people were coming out from
+mass. Listening to them as they talked in groups she heard again the
+sing-song manner of talking that her father had often imitated so as to
+amuse her.
+
+On the country road she saw a young girl walking slowly ahead of her
+carrying a very heavy basket on her arm.
+
+"Is this the way to Maraucourt?" Perrine asked.
+
+"Yes, this road ... quite straight."
+
+"Quite straight," said Perrine laughing, "it isn't so very straight after
+all."
+
+"If you are going to Maraucourt, I'm going there too, and we could go
+together," suggested the girl.
+
+"I will if you'll let me help you carry your basket," said Perrine with a
+smile.
+
+"I won't say no to that, for it's sure heavy!"
+
+The girl put her basket on the ground and breathed a sigh of relief.
+
+"You don't belong to Maraucourt, do you?" asked the girl.
+
+"No, do you?"
+
+"Sure I do."
+
+"Do you work in the factories?"
+
+"Should say so, everybody does here."
+
+"How much do they pay?"
+
+"Ten sous."
+
+"And is it hard work?"
+
+"Not very; but you have to have a sharp eye and not waste time. Do you want
+to get in there?"
+
+"Yes, if they'd have me."
+
+"Should say they would have you; they take anybody. If they didn't how do
+you think they'd get the seven thousand hands they've got. Just be there
+tomorrow morning at 6 o'clock at the gate. We must hurry now or I'll be
+late. Come on."
+
+She took the handle of the basket on one side and Perrine took it on the
+other side and they set out on the road, keeping in step down the middle.
+
+Here was an opportunity for Perrine to learn what held interest for her. It
+was too good for her not to seize it. But she was afraid to question this
+girl openly. She must put the questions she wanted answered in a way that
+would not arouse her suspicions.
+
+"Were you born at Maraucourt?" she began.
+
+"Sure, I'm a native and my mother was too, my father came from Picquigny."
+
+"Have you lost them?"
+
+"Yes, I live with my grandmother who keeps a grocer store and restaurant.
+She's Madame Francoise."
+
+"Ah! Madame Francoise."
+
+"What! do you know her?"
+
+"No, I just said, 'Ah, Madame Francoise.'"
+
+"She's known everywhere for her 'eats' and 'cause she was nurse to Monsieur
+Edmond Paindavoine. Whenever the men want to ask the boss, Monsieur Vulfran
+Paindavoine, for anything, they get my grandmother to ask for them."
+
+"Does she always get what they want?"
+
+"Sometimes yes, sometimes no; Monsieur Vulfran ain't always obliging."
+
+"If your grandmother was nurse to Monsieur Edmond why doesn't she ask
+him?"
+
+"M. Edmond? he's the boss' son, and he went away from here before I was
+born, no one's seen him since. He had a quarrel with his father, and his
+father sent him to India to buy jute. The boss has made his fortune out
+of jute. He's rich, as rich as...."
+
+She could not think how rich M. Vulfran was so she said abruptly: "Now
+shall we change arms?"
+
+"If you like. What is your name?"
+
+"Rosalie. What's yours?"
+
+Perrine did not want to give her real name, so she chanced on one.
+
+"Aurelie," she said.
+
+They rested for a while, then went on again at their regular step.
+
+"You say that the son had a quarrel with his father," said Perrine,
+"then went away?"
+
+"Yes, and the old gentleman got madder still with him 'cause he married
+a Hindu girl, and a marriage like that doesn't count. His father wanted
+him to marry a young lady who came of a very fine family, the best in
+Picardy. It was because he wanted his son to marry this other girl that
+he built the beautiful mansion he's got. It cost millions and millions
+of francs. But M. Edmond wouldn't part with the wife he's got over there
+to take up with the young lady here, so the quarrel got worse and worse,
+and now they don't even know if the son is dead or alive. They haven't
+had news of him for years, so they say. Monsieur Vulfran doesn't speak
+to anyone about it, neither do the two nephews."
+
+"Oh, he has nephews?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur Theodore Paindavoine, his brother's son, and Monsieur
+Casimir Bretoneux, his sister's son, who help him in the business. If M.
+Edmond doesn't come back the fortune and all the factories will go to
+his two nephews."
+
+"Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes, and that'll be a sad thing, sad for the whole town. Them nephews
+ain't no good for the business ... and so many people have to get their
+living from it. Sure, it'll be a sad day when they get it, and they will
+if poor M. Edmond doesn't come back. On Sundays, when I serve the meals,
+I hear all sorts of things."
+
+"About his nephews?"
+
+"Yes, about them two and others also. But it's none of our business;
+let's talk of something else."
+
+"Yes, why not?"
+
+As Perrine did not want to appear too inquisitive, she walked on
+silently, but Rosalie's tongue could not be still for very long.
+
+"Did you come along with your parents to Maraucourt?" she asked.
+
+"I have no parents."
+
+"No father, no mother!"
+
+"No."
+
+"You're like me, but I've got a grandmother who's very good, and she'd
+be still better if it wasn't for my uncles and aunts; she has to please
+them. If it wasn't for them I should not have to work in the factories;
+I should stay at home and help in the store, but grandmother can't do as
+she wants always. So you're all alone?"
+
+"Yes, all alone."
+
+"Was it your own idea to leave Paris and come to Maraucourt?"
+
+"I was told that I might find work at Maraucourt, so instead of going
+further on to some relations, I stopped here. If you don't know your
+relations, and they don't know you, you're not sure if you're going to get
+a welcome."
+
+"That's true. If there are kind ones, there are some mighty unkind ones
+in this world."
+
+"Yes, that is so," Perrine said, nodding her pretty head.
+
+"Well, don't worry; you'll find work in the factories. Ten sous a day is
+not much, but it's something, and you can get as much as twenty-two sous.
+I'm going to ask you a question; you can answer or not, as you like. Have
+you got any money?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"Well, if you'd like to lodge at my grandmother's, that'll cost you
+twenty-eight sous a week, pay in advance."
+
+"I can pay twenty-eight sous."
+
+"Now, I don't promise you a fine room all to yourself at that price;
+there'll be six in the same room, but you'll have a bed, some sheets and
+a coverlet. Everybody ain't got that."
+
+"I'd like it and thank you very much."
+
+"My grandmother don't only take in lodgers who can only pay twenty-eight
+sous. We've got some very fine rooms in our house. Our boarders are
+employed at the factories. There's Monsieur Fabry, the engineer of the
+building; Monsieur Mombleux, the head clerk, and Mr. Bendit, who has
+charge of the foreign correspondence. If you ever speak to him always
+call him Mr. Benndite. He's an Englishman, and he gets mad if you
+pronounce his name 'Bendit.' He thinks that one wants to insult him,
+just as though one was calling him 'Thief'!"
+
+"I won't forget; besides, I know English."
+
+"You know English! You!"
+
+"My mother was English."
+
+"So, so! Well, that'll be fine for Mr. Bendit, but he'd be more pleased if
+you knew every language. His great stunt on Sunday is to read prayers that
+are printed in twenty-five languages. When he's gone through them once, he
+goes over them again and again. Every Sunday he does the same thing. All
+the same, he's a very fine man."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+GRANDFATHER VULFRAN
+
+
+Through the great trees which framed the road on either side, Perrine
+could see beyond the hill the tops of some high chimneys and buildings.
+
+"We're coming to Maraucourt," said Rosalie; "you'll see Monsieur
+Paindavoine's mansion soon, then the factories. We shan't see the
+village until we get down the other side of the hill. Over by the river
+there's the church and cemetery."
+
+Then, as they neared the spot where the poplars were swaying, there came
+into view a beautiful chateau towering grandly above the trees, with its
+facade of stone gabled roofs and chimneys standing out magnificently in a
+park planted with trees and shrubs which stretched out as far as the
+meadows.
+
+Perrine stopped short in amazement, whilst Rosalie continue to step out.
+This made them jolt the basket, whereupon Rosalie plumped it down on the
+ground and stretched herself.
+
+"Ah, you think that fine, don't you?" said Rosalie, following Perrine's
+glance.
+
+"Why, it's beautiful," said Perrine, softly.
+
+"Well, old Monsieur Vulfran lives there all alone. He's got a dozen
+servants to wait on him, without counting the gardeners and stablemen who
+live in those quarters over there at the end of the park. That place over
+there is the electric power house for lighting up the chateau. Fine, ain't
+it? And you should see the inside! There's gold everywhere, and velvets,
+and such carpets! Them nephews want to live there with him, but he won't
+have 'em. He even eats his meals all alone."
+
+They took up the basket and went on again. Soon they saw a general view of
+the works. But to Perrine's eyes there seemed only a confusion of
+buildings, some old, some new, just a great gray mass with big, tall
+chimneys everywhere. Then they came to the first houses of the village,
+with apple trees and pear trees growing in the gardens. Here was the
+village of which her father had spoken so often.
+
+What struck her most was the number of people she saw. Groups of men, women
+and children dressed up in their Sunday clothes stood chatting before the
+houses or sat in the low rooms, the windows of which were thrown wide open.
+A mass of people, people everywhere. In the low-ceiling rooms, where those
+from outside could see all that was passing within, some were drinking
+bright colored drinks, others had jugs of cider, while others had on the
+tables before them black coffee or whisky. And what a tapping of glasses
+and voices raised in angry dispute!
+
+"What a lot of people there seem to be drinking," said Perrine.
+
+"That's because it's Sunday. They got two weeks' pay yesterday. They
+can't always drink like this; you'll see."
+
+What was characteristic of most of the houses was that nearly all,
+although old and badly built of brick or wood, affected an air of
+coquetry, at least in the painting that embellished the doors and
+windows. This attracted the eye like a sign. And in truth it was a sign,
+for in default of other preparations, the bright paint gave a promise of
+cleanliness which a glance at the inside of the place belied at once.
+
+"We've arrived," said Rosalie, pointing with her free hand to a small
+red brick house which stood a little way from the road, behind a ragged
+hedge. Adjoining the house was a store where general provisions were
+sold, and also liquor. The floors above were rented to the best lodgers,
+and behind the house was a building which was rented out to the factory
+hands. A little gate in the hedge led to a small garden planted with
+apple trees and to a gravel walk leading to the house.
+
+As soon as Rosalie and Perrine entered the yard, a woman, still young,
+called out from the doorway: "Hurry up, you slow coach! Say, you take a
+time to go to Picquigny, don't you?"
+
+"That's my Aunt Zenobie," whispered Rosalie; "she's none too nice."
+
+"What yer whispering there?" yelled the disagreeable woman.
+
+"I said that if somebody hadn't been there to help carry this basket I
+wouldn't be here by now," retorted Rosalie.
+
+"You'd better hold your tongue!"
+
+These words were uttered in such a shrill tone that they brought a tall
+old woman to the door.
+
+"Who are you going on at now, Zenobie?" she asked, calmly.
+
+"She's mad 'cause I'm late, grandmother; but the basket's awful heavy,"
+said Rosalie.
+
+"There, there!" said the grandmother, placidly; "put it down and go and
+get your supper; you'll find it kept warm on the stove."
+
+"You wait for me here in the yard," said Rosalie to Perrine; "I'll be
+out in a minute and we'll have supper together. You go and buy your
+bread. You'll find the baker in the third house on the left. Hurry up."
+
+When Perrine returned she found Rosalie seated at a table under a big
+apple tree. On the table were two plates full of meat stew and potatoes.
+
+"Sit down and share my stew," said Rosalie.
+
+"But ..." hesitated Perrine.
+
+"You don't like to take it; you can. I asked my grandmother, and it's
+all right."
+
+In that case Perrine thought that she should accept this hospitality, so
+she sat down at the table opposite her new friend.
+
+"And it's all arranged about your lodging here," said Rosalie, with her
+mouth full of stew. "You've only to give your twenty-eight sous to
+grandmother. That's where you'll be."
+
+Rosalie pointed to a house a part of which could be seen at the end of
+the yard; the rest of it was hidden by the brick house. It looked such a
+dilapidated old place that one wondered how it still held together.
+
+"My grandmother lived there before she built this house," explained
+Rosalie. "She did it with the money that she got when she was nurse for
+Monsieur Edmond. You won't be comfortable down there as you would in
+this house, but factory hands can't live like rich people, can they?"
+
+Perrine agreed that they could not.
+
+At another table, standing a little distance from theirs, a man about
+forty years of age, grave, stiff, wearing a coat buttoned up and a high
+hat, was reading a small book with great attention.
+
+"That's Mr. Bendit; he's reading his Bible," whispered Rosalie.
+
+Then suddenly, with no respect for the gentleman's occupation, she said:
+"Monsieur Bendit, here's a girl who speaks English."
+
+"Ah!" he said, without raising his eyes from his Bible.
+
+Two minutes elapsed before he lifted his eyes and turned them to
+Perrine.
+
+"Are you an English girl?" he asked in English.
+
+"No, but my mother was," replied Perrine in the same language.
+
+Without another word he went on with his reading.
+
+They were just finishing their supper when a carriage coming along the
+road stopped at the gate.
+
+"Why, it's Monsieur Vulfran in his carriage!" cried Rosalie, getting up
+from her seat and running to the gate.
+
+Perrine did not dare leave her place, but she looked towards the road.
+
+Two people were in the buggy. A young man was driving for an old man
+with white hair, who, although seated, seemed to be very tall. It was M.
+Paindavoine.
+
+Rosalie went up to the buggy.
+
+"Here is someone," said the young man, who was about to get out.
+
+"Who is it?" demanded M. Paindavoine.
+
+It was Rosalie who replied to this question.
+
+"It's Rosalie, monsieur," she said.
+
+"Tell your grandmother to come and speak to me," said the gentleman.
+
+Rosalie ran to the house and came hurrying back with her grandmother.
+
+"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran," said the old woman.
+
+"Good day, Francoise."
+
+"What can I do for you, sir; I'm at your service."
+
+"I've come about your brother Omer. I've just come from his place. His
+drunken wife was the only person there and she could not understand
+anything."
+
+"Omer's gone to Amiens; he comes back tonight."
+
+"Tell him that I have heard that he has rented his hall to some rascals
+to hold a public meeting and ... I don't wish that meeting to take
+place."
+
+"But if they've rented it, sir?"
+
+"He can compromise. If he doesn't, the very next day I'll put him out.
+That's one of the conditions that I made. I'll do what I say. I don't
+want any meeting of that sort here."
+
+"There have been some at Flexelles."
+
+"Flexelles is not Maraucourt. I do not want the people of my village to
+become like those at Flexelles. It's my duty to guard against that. You
+understand? Tell Omer what I say. Good day, Francoise."
+
+"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran."
+
+He fumbled in his vest pocket.
+
+"Where is Rosalie?"
+
+"Here I am, Monsieur Vulfran."
+
+He held out a ten cent piece.
+
+"This is for you," he said.
+
+"Oh, thank you, Monsieur Vulfran," said Rosalie, taking the money with a
+smile.
+
+The buggy went off.
+
+Perrine had not lost a word of what had been said, but what impressed her
+more than the actual words was the tone of authority in which they had been
+spoken. "I don't wish that meeting to take place." She had never heard
+anyone speak like that before. The tone alone bespoke how firm was the
+will, but the old gentleman's uncertain, hesitating gestures did not seem
+to accord with his words.
+
+Rosalie returned to her seat, delighted.
+
+"Monsieur Paindavoine gave me ten cents," she said.
+
+"Yes, I saw him," replied Perrine.
+
+"Let's hope Aunt Zenobie won't know, or she'll take it to keep it for
+me."
+
+"Monsieur Paindavoine did not seem as though he knew you," said Perrine.
+
+"Not know me? Why, he's my godfather!" exclaimed Rosalie.
+
+"But he said 'Where is Rosalie?' when you were standing quite near him."
+
+"That's because he's blind," answered Rosalie, placidly.
+
+"Blind!" cried Perrine.
+
+She repeated the word quite softly to herself two or three times.
+
+"Has he been blind long?" she asked, in the same awed voice.
+
+"For a long time his sight was failing," replied Rosalie, "but no one paid
+any attention; they thought that he was fretting over his son being away.
+Then he got pneumonia, and that left him with a bad cough, and then one day
+he couldn't see to read, then he went quite blind. Think what it would have
+meant to the town if he had been obliged to give up his factories! But no;
+he wasn't going to give them up; not he! He goes to business just the same
+as though he had his sight. Those who counted on being the master there,
+'cause he fell ill have been put in their places." She lowered her voice.
+"His nephews and Talouel; they're the ones I mean."
+
+Aunt Zenobie came to the door.
+
+"Say, Rosalie, have you finished, you young loafer?" she called.
+
+"I've only just this minute got through," answered Rosalie, defiantly.
+
+"Well, there are some customers to wait on ... come on."
+
+"I'll have to go," said Rosalie, regretfully. "Sorry I can't stay with
+you."
+
+"Oh, don't mind me," said little Perrine, politely.
+
+"See you tonight."
+
+With a slow, reluctant step Rosalie got up and dragged herself to the
+house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+ONE SLEEPLESS NIGHT
+
+
+After her new friend had left, Perrine would like to have still sat at
+the table as though she were in her own place, but it was precisely
+because she was not in the place where she belonged that she felt she
+could not. She had learned that the little garden was reserved for the
+boarders and that the factory hands were not privileged to sit there.
+She could not see any seats near the old tumble-down house where she was
+to lodge, so she left the table and sauntered down the village street.
+
+Although she went at a slow step, she had soon walked down all the
+streets, and as everyone stared at her, being a stranger, this had
+prevented her from stopping when she had wanted to.
+
+On the top of the hill opposite the factories she had noticed a wood.
+Perhaps she would be alone there and could sit down without anyone
+paying attention to her.
+
+She climbed the hill, then stretched herself out on the grass and looked
+down over the village ... her father's birthplace, which he had
+described so often to her mother and herself.
+
+She had arrived at Maraucourt! This name, which she had repeated so
+often since she had trod on French soil, the name she had seen on the
+big vans standing outside the Gates of Paris. This was not a country of
+dreams. She was in Maraucourt; before her she could see the vast works
+which belonged to her grandfather. He had made his fortune here, bit by
+bit, sou by sou, until now he was worth millions.
+
+Her eyes wandered from the great chimneys to the railway tracks, where
+all was quiet on this Sabbath day, to the winding streets and the quaint
+houses with their tiled or thatched roofs. Amongst the very old houses
+there was one which seemed more pretentious than the others. It stood in
+a large garden in which there were great trees and a terrace, and at the
+remote corner of the garden a wash-house.
+
+That house had been described to her so many times, she recognized it. It
+was the one in which her grandfather had lived before he had built the
+beautiful chateau. How many hours her father, when a boy, had spent in that
+wash-house on washing days, listening to the washerwomen's chatter and to
+the stories they told, quaint old legends. He had remembered them all those
+years, and later on had told them to his little daughter. There was the
+"Fairy of the Cascade", "The Whirling Dwarf", and lots of others. She
+remembered them all, and her dead father had listened to the old women
+telling them at that very spot down there by the river.
+
+The sun was in her eyes now, so she changed her place. She found another
+grassy nook and sat down again, very thoughtful. She was thinking of
+her future, poor little girl.
+
+She was sure of getting work now, and bread and a place in which to
+sleep, but that was not all. How would she ever be able to realize her
+dead mother's hopes? She trembled; it all seemed so difficult; but at
+least she had accomplished one great thing in having reached Maraucourt.
+
+She must never despair, never give up hope, and now that she had a roof
+over her head and ten sous a day, although not much, it was far better
+now for her than a few days ago, when she had been penniless, famished,
+and had had no place where to lay her head.
+
+She thought it would be wise, as she was beginning a new life on the
+morrow, that she should make a plan of what she should and what she
+should not say. But she was so ignorant of everything, and she soon
+realized that this was a task beyond her. If her mother had reached
+Maraucourt she would have known just what to have done. But she, poor
+little girl, had had no experience; she had not the wisdom nor the
+intelligence of a grown-up person; she was but a child, and alone.
+
+This thought and the memory of her mother brought tears to her eyes. She
+began to cry unrestrainedly.
+
+"Mother, dear mother," she sobbed.
+
+Then her mother's last words came to her: "I see ... I know that you
+will be happy!"
+
+Her mother's words might come true. Those who are at Death's door,
+their souls hovering between Heaven and earth, may have sometimes a
+divine knowledge of things which are not revealed to the living.
+
+This burst of emotion, instead of making her more despondent, did her
+good. After she had wiped her tears away she was more hopeful, and it
+seemed to her that the light evening breeze which fanned her cheek from
+time to time brought her a kiss from her mother, touching her wet cheeks
+and whispering to her her last words: "I see ... I know you will be
+happy."
+
+And why should it not be so? Why should her mother not be near her,
+leaning over her at this moment like a guardian angel? For a long time
+she sat deep in thought. Her beautiful little face was very grave. She
+wondered, would everything come out all right for her in the end?
+
+Then mechanically her eye fell on a large cluster of marguerites. She
+got up quickly and picked a few, closing her eyes so as not to choose.
+
+She came back to her place and, taking up one with a hand that shook,
+she commenced to pick off the petals, one at a time, saying: "I shall
+succeed; a little; a lot; completely; not at all." She repeated this
+very carefully until there were only a few petals left on the last
+flower.
+
+How many, she did not want to count, for their number would have told
+her the answer. So, with a heart beating rapidly, she quickly pulled off
+the last petals.
+
+"I shall succeed; a little; a lot; completely...."
+
+At the same moment a warm breeze passed over her hair, over her lips. It
+was surely her mother's reply in a kiss, the tenderest that she had ever
+given her.
+
+The night fell. She decided to go. Already down the straight road as far
+as the river white vapors were rising, floating lightly around the great
+trees. Here and there little lights from behind the windows of the
+houses pierced the gathering darkness, and vague sounds broke the
+silence of the peaceful Sabbath evening.
+
+There was no need for her to stay out late now, for she had a roof to
+cover her and a bed to sleep in; besides, as she was to get up early the
+next day to go to work, it would be better to go to bed early.
+
+As she walked through the village she recognized that the noises that
+she had heard came from the cabarets. They were full. Men and women were
+seated at the tables drinking. From the open door the odor of coffee,
+hot alcohol and tobacco filled the street as though it were a vast sink.
+
+She passed one cabaret after another. There were so many that to every
+three houses there was at least one in which liquor was sold. On her
+tramps along the high roads and through the various towns she had seen
+many drinking places, but nowhere had she heard such words, so clear and
+shrill, as those which came confusedly from the low rooms.
+
+When she reached Mother Francoise's garden she saw Mr. Bendit still
+reading. Before him was a lighted candle, a piece of newspaper protecting
+the light, around which the moths and mosquitoes flew. But he paid no
+attention to them, so absorbed was he in his reading.
+
+Yet, as she was passing him, he raised his head and recognized her. For the
+pleasure of speaking in his own language, he spoke to her in English.
+
+"I hope you'll have a good night's rest," he said.
+
+"Thank you," she replied. "Good night, sir."
+
+"Where have you been?" he continued in English.
+
+"I took a walk as far as the woods," she replied in the same language.
+
+"All alone?"
+
+"Yes; I do not know anyone here."
+
+"Then why don't you stay in and read. There is nothing better to do on
+Sunday than read."
+
+"I have no books."
+
+"Oh! Well, I'll lend you. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Rosalie was seated in the doorway taking the fresh air.
+
+"Do you want to go to bed now?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, I'd like to," replied Perrine.
+
+"I'll take you up there then, but first you'll have to arrange with
+grandmother. Go to the cafe; she's there."
+
+The matter, having been arranged by Rosalie and her grandmother beforehand,
+was quickly settled. Perrine laid her twenty-eight sous on the table and
+two sous extra for lighting for the week.
+
+"So you are going to stay in our village, little one?" asked Mother
+Francoise, with a kindly, placid air.
+
+"Yes, if it is possible."
+
+"You can do it if you'll work."
+
+"That is all I ask," replied Perrine.
+
+"Well, that's all right. You won't stop at ten sous; you'll soon get a
+franc or perhaps two, then later on you'll marry a good workingman
+who'll earn three. Between you, that'll be five francs a day. With that
+you're rich ... if you don't drink; but one mustn't drink. It's a good
+thing that M. Vulfran can give employment to the whole county. There is
+the land, to be sure, but tilling ground can't provide a living to all
+who have to be fed."
+
+Whilst the old nurse babbled this advice with the importance and the
+authority of a woman accustomed to having her word respected, Rosalie
+was getting some linen from a closet, and Perrine, who, while listening,
+had been looking at her, saw that the sheets were made of a thick yellow
+canvas. It was so long since she had slept in sheets that she ought to
+think herself fortunate to get even these, hard though they were. La
+Rouquerie on her tramps had never spent money for a bed, and a long time
+ago the sheets they had in the wagon, with the exception of those kept
+for her mother, had been sold or worn to rags.
+
+She went with Rosalie across the yard where about twenty men, women and
+children were seated on a clump of wood or standing about, talking and
+smoking, waiting for the hour to retire. How could all these people live
+in the old house, which seemed far from large?
+
+At the sight of the attic, after Rosalie had lit a candle stuck behind a
+wire trellis, Perrine understood. In a space of six yards long and a
+little more than three wide, six beds were placed along the length of
+the walls, and the passage between the beds was only one yard wide. Six
+people, then, had to spend the night in a place where there was scarcely
+room for two. Although a little window opened on the yard opposite the
+door, there was a rank, sharp odor which made Perrine gasp. But she said
+nothing.
+
+"Well," said Rosalie, "you think it's a bit small, eh?"
+
+"Yes, it is, rather," was all she said.
+
+"Four sous a night is not one hundred sous, you know," remarked Rosalie.
+
+"That is true," answered Perrine, with a smothered sigh.
+
+After all, it was better for her to have a place in this tiny room than
+be out in the woods and fields. If she had been able to endure the odor
+in Grain-of-Salt's shack, she would probably be able to bear it here.
+
+"There's your bed," said Rosalie, pointing to one placed near the
+window.
+
+What she called a bed was a straw mattress placed on four feet and held
+together by two boards. Instead of a pillow there was a sack.
+
+"You know," said Rosalie, "this is fresh straw; they never give old
+straw to anyone to sleep on. In the hotels they do that sort of thing,
+but we don't here."
+
+Although there were too many beds in the little room, there was not one
+chair.
+
+"There are some nails on the walls," said Rosalie, in reply to Perrine's
+questioning look; "you can hang your clothes up there."
+
+There were also some boxes and baskets under the bed. If the lodgers had
+any underwear they could make use of these, but as Perrine had only what
+she was wearing, the nail at the head of the bed was sufficient.
+
+"They're all honest here," remarked Rosalie, "and if La Noyelle talks in
+the night it's 'cause she's been drinking; she's a chatterbox. Tomorrow
+you get up with the others. I'll tell you where you have to go to wash.
+Good night."
+
+"Good night, and thank you," replied Perrine.
+
+She hurriedly undressed, thankful that she was alone and would not have
+to submit to the inquisitive regards of the other occupants of the room.
+But when she was between the sheets she did not feel so comfortable as
+she had hoped, for they were very rough and hard. But then the ground
+had seemed very hard the first time she had slept on it, and she had
+quickly grown accustomed to it.
+
+It was not long before the door was opened and a young girl about
+fifteen came in and commenced to get undressed. From time to time she
+glanced at Perrine, but without saying a word. As she was in her Sunday
+clothes, her disrobing took longer than usual, for she had to put away
+her best dress in a small box and hang her working clothes on the nail
+for the next day.
+
+A second girl came in, then a third, then a fourth. There was a babble
+of tongues, all talking at the same time, each relating what had
+happened during the day. In the narrow space between the beds they
+pulled out and pushed back their boxes or baskets, and with each effort
+came an outburst of impatience and furious upbraidings against the
+landlady.
+
+"What a hole!"
+
+"She'll be putting another bed in here soon."
+
+"Sure! But I won't stay!"
+
+"Where would yer go? It ain't no better nowhere else."
+
+The complaining, mixed with a desultory chatter, continued. At length,
+however, when the two who had first arrived were in bed, a little order
+was established. Soon all the beds were occupied but one.
+
+But even then the conversation did not cease. They had discussed the
+doings of the day just passed, so now they went on to the next day, to
+the work at the factories, the quarrels, the doings of the heads of the
+concern--M. Vulfran Paindavoine and his nephews, whom they called "the
+kids," and the foreman, Talouel. They spoke of this man by name only
+once, but the names they called him bespoke better than words what they
+thought of him.
+
+Perrine experienced a strange contradictory feeling which surprised her.
+She wanted to hear everything, for this information might be of great
+importance to her, yet on the other hand she felt embarrassed, almost
+ashamed, to listen to such talk.
+
+Most of the talk was rather vague to Perrine, not knowing the persons to
+whom it applied, but she soon gathered that "Skinny", "Judas", and
+"Sneak" were all one and the same man, and that man was Talouel, the
+foreman. The factory hands evidently considered him a bully; they all
+hated him, yet feared him.
+
+"Let's go to sleep," at last said one.
+
+"Yes, why not?"
+
+"La Noyelle hasn't come in yet."
+
+"I saw her outside when I came in."
+
+"How was she?"
+
+"Full. She couldn't stand up."
+
+"Ugh! d'ye think she can get upstairs?"
+
+"Not sure about that."
+
+"Suppose we lock the door?"
+
+"Yes, and what a row she'd make!"
+
+"Like last Sunday; maybe worse."
+
+They groaned. At this moment the sound of heavy shambling footsteps was
+heard on the stairs.
+
+"Here she is."
+
+The steps stopped, then there was a fall, followed by a moan.
+
+"She's fallen down!"
+
+"Suppose she can't get up?"
+
+"She'd sleep as well on the stairs as here."
+
+"And we'd sleep better."
+
+The moaning continued, interrupted by calls for help.
+
+"Come, Laide," called out a thick voice; "give us a hand, my child."
+
+But Laide did not move. After a time the calls ceased.
+
+"She's gone to sleep. That's luck."
+
+But the drunken girl had not gone to sleep at all; on the contrary, she
+was using every effort to get up the stairs again.
+
+"Laide, come and give me a hand, child. Laide, Laide," she cried.
+
+She evidently made no progress, for the calls still came from the bottom
+of the stairs, and became more and more persistent. Finally she began to
+cry.
+
+"Little Laide, little Laide, come to me," she wailed. "Oh! oh! the
+stairs are slipping; where am I?"
+
+A burst of laughter came from each bed.
+
+"It's cause yer ain't come in yet, Laide; that's why yer don't come.
+I'll go and find yer."
+
+"Now she's gone and we'll have some peace," said one.
+
+"No, she'll go to look for Laide and won't find her, and it'll all
+begin over again. Well never get to sleep."
+
+"Go and give her a hand, Laide," advised one.
+
+"Go yerself," retorted Laide.
+
+"But she wants you."
+
+Laide decided to go, and slipping on her skirt, she went down the
+stairs.
+
+"Oh, my child, my child," cried La Noyelle, brokenly, when she caught
+sight of her.
+
+The joy of seeing Laide drove all thoughts of getting upstairs safely
+away.
+
+"Come with me, little one, and I'll treat you to a glass; come on,"
+urged the drunken creature.
+
+But Laide would not be tempted.
+
+"No, come on to bed," she said.
+
+The woman continued to insist.
+
+They argued for a long time, La Noyelle repeating the words, "a little
+glass."
+
+"I want to go to sleep," said one of the girls in bed. "How long is this
+going to keep up? And we got to be up early tomorrow."
+
+"Oh, Lord! and it's like this every Sunday," sighed another.
+
+And little Perrine had thought that if she only had a roof over her head
+she would be able to sleep in peace! The open fields, with their dark
+shadows and the chances of bad weather, was far better than this crowded
+room, reeking with odors that were almost suffocating her. She wondered
+if she would be able to pass the night in this dreadful room.
+
+The argument was still going on at the foot of the stairs. La Noyelle's
+voice could be heard repeating "a little glass."
+
+"I'm goin' to help Laide," said one, "or this'll last till tomorrow."
+The woman got up and went down the narrow stairs. Then came the sound of
+angry voices, heavy footsteps and blows. The people on the ground floor
+came out to see what was the matter, and finally everyone in the house
+was awake.
+
+At last La Noyelle was dragged into the room, crying out in despair.
+
+"What have I done to you that you should be so unkind to me?"
+
+Ignoring her complaints, they undressed her and put her into bed, but
+even then she did not sleep, but continued to moan and cry.
+
+"What have I done to you girls that you should treat me so badly. I'm
+very unhappy, and I'm thirsty."
+
+She continued to complain until everyone was so exasperated that they
+one and all shouted out in anger.
+
+However, she went on all the same. She carried on a conversation with an
+imaginary person till the occupants of the room were driven to distraction.
+Now and again her voice dropped as though she were going off to sleep, then
+suddenly she cried out in a shriller voice, and those who had dropped off
+into a slumber awoke with a start and frightened her badly, but despite
+their anger she would not stop.
+
+Perrine wondered if it really was to be like that every Sunday. How
+could they put up with her? Was there no place in Maraucourt where one
+could sleep peacefully?
+
+It was not alone the noise that disturbed her, but the air was now so
+stifling that she could scarcely breathe.
+
+At last La Noyelle was quiet, or rather it was only a prolonged snore
+that came from her lips.
+
+But although all was silent Perrine could not sleep. She was oppressed.
+It seemed as though a hammer was beating on her forehead, and she was
+perspiring from head to foot.
+
+It was not to be wondered at. She was suffocating for want of air; and
+if the other girls in the room were not stifled like her, it was because
+they were accustomed to this atmosphere, which to one who was in the
+habit of sleeping in the open air was unbearable.
+
+But she thought that if they could endure it she should. But
+unfortunately one does not breathe as one wishes, nor when one wishes.
+If she closed her mouth she could not get enough air into her lungs.
+
+What was going to happen to her? She struggled up in bed, tearing at the
+paper which replaced the window pane against which her bed was placed. She
+tore away the paper, doing so as quietly as possible so as not to wake the
+girls beside her. Then putting her mouth to the opening she leaned her
+tired little head on the window sill. Finally in sheer weariness she fell
+asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE HUT ON THE ISLAND
+
+
+When she awoke a pale streak of light fell across the window, but it was
+so feeble that it did not lighten the room. Outside the cocks were
+crowing. Day was breaking.
+
+A chill, damp air was penetrating through the opening she had made in
+the window, but in spite of that the bad odor in the room still
+remained. It was dreadful!
+
+Yet all the girls slept a deep slumber, only broken now and again with a
+stifled moan.
+
+Very quietly she got up and dressed. Then taking her shoes in her hands
+she crept down the stairs to the door. She put on her shoes and went
+out.
+
+Oh! the fresh, delicious air! Never had she taken a breath with such
+thankfulness. She went through the little yard with her mouth wide open,
+her nostrils quivering, her head thrown back. The sound of her footsteps
+awoke a dog, which commenced to bark; then several other dogs joined in.
+
+But what did that matter? She was no longer a little tramp at whom dogs
+were at liberty to bark. If she wished to leave her bed she had a
+perfect right to do so; she had paid out money for it.
+
+The yard was too small for her present mood; she felt she must move
+about. She went out onto the road and walked straight ahead without
+knowing where.
+
+The shades of night still filled the roads, but above her head she saw
+the dawn already whitening the tops of the trees and the roofs of the
+houses. In a few minutes it would be day. At this moment the clang of a
+bell broke the deep silence. It was the factory clock striking three.
+She still had three more hours before going to work.
+
+How should she pass the time? She could not keep walking until six, she
+would be too tired; so she would find a place where she could sit down
+and wait.
+
+The sky was gradually getting brighter, and round about her various
+forms were taking a concrete shape.
+
+At the end of a glade she could see a small hut made of branches and
+twigs which was used by the game keepers during the winter. She thought
+that if she could get to the hut she would be hidden there and no one
+would see her and inquire what she was doing out in the fields at that
+early hour.
+
+She found a small trail, barely traced, which seemed to lead to the hut.
+She took it, and although it led her straight in the direction of the
+little cabin, she had not reached it when the path ended, for it was
+built upon a small island upon which grew three weeping willows. Around
+it was a ditch full of water. Fortunately, the trunk of a tree had been
+thrown across the ditch. Although it was not very straight, and was wet
+with the morning dew, which made it very slippery, Perrine was not
+deterred from crossing.
+
+She managed to get across, and soon found herself before the door of the
+little hut, which she only had to push to open.
+
+Oh, what a pretty nest! The hut was square, and from roof to floor was
+lined inside with ferns. There was a little opening on each of the four
+sides, which from without was invisible, but from within one could gain
+a good view of the surrounding country. On the ground was a thick bed of
+ferns, and in one of the corners a bench made from the trunk of a tree.
+
+How delightful! And how little it resembled the room she had just left!
+How much better it would be for her if she could sleep here in the fresh
+air, sleeping in peace amongst the ferns, with no other noise but the
+rustling of the leaves and the ripple of the water.
+
+How much better to be here than lying between Mother Francoise's hard
+sheets, listening to the complaints of La Noyelle and her friends in
+that dreadful atmosphere which even now seemed to assail her nostrils.
+
+She laid down on the ferns, curled up in a corner against the soft walls
+covered with reeds, then closed her eyes. Before long she felt a soft
+numbness creeping over her. She jumped to her feet, fearing that she
+might drop off to sleep and not awake before it was time for her to go
+to the factory.
+
+The sun had now risen, and through the aperture facing east a streak of
+gold entered the hut. Outside the birds were singing, and all over the
+tiny island, on the pond, on the branches of the weeping willows, was
+heard a confusion of sounds, twittering and little shrill cries which
+announced an awakening to life. Looking out of the window, she could see
+the birds picking at the humid earth with their beaks, snapping at the
+worms. Over the pond floated a light mist. A wild duck, far prettier
+than the tame ducks, was swimming on the water, surrounded with her
+young. She tried to keep them beside her with continual little quacks,
+but she found it impossible to do so. The ducklings escaped from the
+mother duck, scurrying off amongst the reeds to search for the insects
+which came within their reach.
+
+Suddenly a quick blue streak, like lightning, flashed before Perrine's
+eyes. It was not until it had disappeared that she realized that it was
+a kingfisher which had just crossed the pond. For a long time, standing
+quite still for fear a movement might betray her presence and cause the
+birds to fly away, she stood at the opening looking out at them. How
+pretty it all was in the morning light, gay, alive, amusing, something
+new to look upon.
+
+Now and again she saw dark shadows pass capriciously over the pond. The
+shadows grew larger without apparent cause, covering the pond. She could
+not understand this, for the sun, which had risen above the horizon, was
+shining in the sky without a cloud. How did these shadows come?
+
+She went to the door and saw a thick black smoke coming from the factory
+chimneys.
+
+Work would commence very soon; it was time to leave the hut. As she was
+about to go she picked up a newspaper from the seat that she had not
+noticed before in the dim light. The newspaper was dated February 2.
+Then this thought came to her: This newspaper was on the only spot in
+the place where one could sit down, and the date of it was several
+months previous, so then this proved that the hut had been abandoned and
+no one had passed through the door since last February.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+WORK IN THE FACTORY
+
+
+When she reached the road a loud whistle was heard, shrill and powerful.
+Almost immediately other whistles replied from the distance. This was
+the call for the factory hands who lived in Maraucourt, and the other
+whistles repeated the summons to work from village to village, St.
+Pipoy, Harcheux, Racour, Flexelles, in all the Paindavoine factories,
+announcing to the owner of the vast works that everywhere, at the same
+time, his factories were calling to his employes to be ready for the
+day's work.
+
+Fearing she might be late she ran as far as the village. There she found
+all the doors of the houses open. On the thresholds the men were eating
+their soups or leaning against the walls; others were in the cabarets
+drinking wine; others were washing at the pump in the yard. No one
+seemed to be going to work, so evidently it was not time yet, so Perrine
+thought that there was no occasion for her to hurry.
+
+But before long a louder whistle was blown, and then there was a general
+movement everywhere; from houses, yards and taverns came a dense crowd,
+filling the street. Men, women and children went towards the factories,
+some smoking their pipes, others munching a crust of bread, the greater
+number chattering loudly. In one of the groups Perrine caught sight of
+Rosalie in company with La Noyelle. She joined them.
+
+"Why, where have you been?" asked Rosalie in surprise.
+
+"I got up early so as to take a walk," Perrine replied.
+
+"You did? I went to look for you."
+
+"Oh, thank you; but never do that, for I get up very early," said
+Perrine.
+
+Upon arriving at the factory the crowd went into the various workshops
+under the watchful eye of a tall thin man who stood near the iron gates,
+his hand in the pocket of his coat, his straw hat stuck on the back of
+his head. His sharp eyes scanned everyone who passed.
+
+"That's Skinny," informed Rosalie in a whisper.
+
+Perrine did not need to be told this. She seemed to know at once that
+this was the foreman Talouel.
+
+"Do I come in with you?" asked Perrine.
+
+"Sure!"
+
+This was a decisive moment for little Perrine, but she controlled her
+nervousness and drew herself up to her full height. Why should they not
+take her if they took everyone?
+
+Rosalie drew Perrine out of the crowd, then went up to Talouel.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "here's a friend of mine who wants a job."
+
+Talouel glanced sharply at the friend.
+
+"In a moment ... we'll see," he replied curtly.
+
+Rosalie, who knew what to do, signed to Perrine to stand aside and wait. At
+this moment there was a slight commotion at the gates, and the crowd drew
+aside respectfully to allow Monsieur Paindavoine's carriage to pass. The
+same young man who had driven him the evening before was now driving.
+Although everyone knew that their chief, Vulfran Paindavoine, was blind,
+all the men took off their hats as he passed and the women curtseyed.
+
+"You see he's not the last one to come," said Rosalie, as the phaeton
+passed through the gates, "but his nephews likely will be late."
+
+The clock struck, then a few late comers came running up. A young man
+came hurrying along, arranging his tie as he ran.
+
+"Good morning, Talouel," he said; "is uncle here yet?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur Theodore," said the foreman, "he got here a good five
+minutes ago."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"You're not the last, though. Monsieur Casimir is late also. I can see
+him coming now."
+
+As Theodore went towards the offices his cousin Casimir came up
+hurriedly.
+
+The two cousins were not at all alike, either in their looks or ways.
+Casimir gave the foreman a short nod, but did not say a word.
+
+"What can your friend do?" asked Talouel, turning to Rosalie, his hands
+still in his pockets.
+
+Perrine herself replied to this question.
+
+"I have not worked in a factory before," she said in a voice that she
+tried to control.
+
+Talouel gave her a sharp look, then turned again to Rosalie.
+
+"Tell Oneux to put her with the trucks. Now be off. Hurry up!"
+
+Thus dismissed, Rosalie hurried Perrine away.
+
+"What are the trucks?" asked little Perrine as she followed her friend
+through the big courtyard. She wondered, poor child, if she had the
+strength and the intelligence to do what was required of her.
+
+"Oh, it's easy enough," replied Rosalie, lightly. "Don't be afraid;
+you've only got to load the trucks."
+
+"Oh!..."
+
+"And when it's full," continued Rosalie, "you push it along to the place
+where they empty it. You give a good shove to begin with, then it'll go
+all alone."
+
+As they passed down the corridors they could scarcely hear each other
+speak for the noise of the machinery. Rosalie pushed open the door of
+one of the workshops and took Perrine into a long room. There was a
+deafening roar from the thousand tiny machines, yet above the noise they
+could hear a man calling out: "Ah, there you are, you loafer!"
+
+"Who's a loafer, pray?" retorted Rosalie. "That ain't me, just
+understand that, Father Ninepins."
+
+"What have you been doin'?"
+
+"Skinny told me to bring my friend to you to work on the trucks."
+
+The one whom she had addressed in this amiable manner was an old man with a
+wooden leg. He had lost his leg in the factory twelve years previous, hence
+his nickname, "Ninepins." He now had charge of a number of girls whom he
+treated rudely, shouting and swearing at them. The working of these
+machines needed as much attention of the eye as deftness of hand in lifting
+up the full spools and replacing them with empty ones, and fastening the
+broken thread. He was convinced that if he did not shout and swear at them
+incessantly, emphasizing each curse with a stout bang of his wooden leg on
+the floor, he would see his machines stop, which to him was intolerable.
+But as he was a good man at heart, no one paid much attention to him, and
+besides, the greater part of his cursing was lost in the noise of the
+machinery.
+
+"Yes, and with it all, your machine has stopped," cried Rosalie
+triumphantly, shaking her fist at him.
+
+"Go on with you," he shouted back; "that ain't my fault."
+
+"What's your name?" he added, addressing Perrine.
+
+This request, which she ought to have foreseen, for only the night before
+Rosalie had asked the same question, made her start. As she did not wish to
+give her real name, she stood hesitating. Old Ninepins thought that she had
+not heard, and banging his wooden leg on the floor again, he cried:
+
+"I asked you what your name was, didn't I? Eh?"
+
+She had time to collect herself and to recall the one that she had
+already given to Rosalie.
+
+"Aurelie," she said.
+
+"Aurelie what?" he demanded.
+
+"That is all ... just Aurelie," she replied.
+
+"All right, Aurelie; come on with me," he said.
+
+He took her to a small truck stationed in a far corner and explained
+what she had to do, the same as Rosalie had.
+
+"Do you understand?" he shouted several times.
+
+She nodded.
+
+And really what she had to do was so simple that she would indeed have
+been stupid if she had been unable to do it. She gave all her attention
+to the task, but every now and again old Ninepins called after her:
+
+"Now, don't play on the way." But this was more to warn than to scold
+her.
+
+She had no thought of playing, but as she pushed her truck with a good
+regular speed, while not stopping, she was able to see what was going on
+on the way. One push started the truck, and all she had to do was to see
+that there were no obstacles in its way.
+
+At luncheon time each girl hurried to her home. Perrine went to the
+baker's and got the baker to cut her a half a pound of bread, which she
+ate as she walked the streets, smelling the while the good odor of the
+soup which came from the open doors before which she passed. She walked
+slowly when she smelled a soup that she liked. She was rather hungry,
+and a half a pound of bread is not much, so it disappeared quickly.
+
+Long before the time for her to go back to work she was at the gates. She
+sat down on a bench in the shade of a tree and waited for the whistle,
+watching the boys and girls playing, running and jumping. She was too timid
+to join in their games, although she would like to have done so.
+
+When Rosalie came she went back to her work with her.
+
+Before the day was ended she was so tired that she did indeed merit
+Ninepins' sharp rebuke.
+
+"Go on! Can't you go faster than that?" he cried.
+
+Startled by the bang from his wooden leg which accompanied his words, she
+stepped out like a horse under the lash of a whip, but only to slow up the
+moment she was out of his sight. Her shoulders ached, her arms ached, her
+head ached. At first it had seemed so easy to push the truck, but to have
+to keep at it all day was too much for her. All she wanted now was for the
+day to end. Why could she not do as much as the others? Some of them were
+not so old as she, and yet they did not appear tired. Perhaps when she was
+accustomed to the work she would not feel so exhausted.
+
+She reasoned thus as she wearily pushed her loaded truck, glancing at
+the others with envy as they briskly went on with their work. Suddenly
+she saw Rosalie, who was fastening some threads, fall down beside the
+girl who was next to her. At the same time a girlish cry of anguish was
+heard.
+
+The machinery was stopped at once. All was silent now, the silence only
+broken by a moan. Boys and girls, in fact everyone, hurried towards
+Rosalie, despite the sharp words from old Ninepins. "Thunder in Heaven,
+the machines have stopped. What's the matter?" he cried.
+
+The girls crowded around Rosalie and lifted her to her feet.
+
+"What's the matter?" they asked.
+
+"It's my hand," she murmured; "I caught it in the machine. Oh!..."
+
+Her face was very pale, her lips bloodless. Drops of blood were falling
+from her crushed hand. But upon examining it, it was found that only two
+fingers were hurt, one probably broken.
+
+Ninepins, who at first had felt pity for the girl, now began pushing
+those who surrounded her back to their places.
+
+"Be off; go back to your work," he cried. "A lot of fuss about nothing."
+
+"Yes; it was a lot of fuss for nothing when you broke your leg, wasn't
+it?" cried out a voice.
+
+He glanced about to see who had spoken, but it was impossible to find
+out in the crowd. Then he shouted again:
+
+"Get back to your work. Hurry up!"
+
+Slowly they dispersed and Perrine, like the others, was on her way back
+to her truck, when Ninepins called to her:
+
+"Here, you new one, there; come here! Come on, quicker than that."
+
+She came back timidly, wondering why she was more guilty than the others
+who had also left their work. But she found that he did not wish to
+punish her.
+
+"Take that young fool there to the foreman," he said.
+
+"What do you call me a fool for?" cried Rosalie, raising her voice, for
+already the machines were in motion. "It wasn't my fault, was it?"
+
+"Sure, it was your fault, clumsy." Then he added in a softer tone:
+
+"Does it hurt?"
+
+"Not so very much," replied Rosalie bravely.
+
+"Well, go on home; be off now."
+
+Rosalie and Perrine went out together, Rosalie holding her wounded hand,
+which was the left, in her right hand.
+
+"Won't you lean on me, Rosalie?" asked little Perrine anxiously. "I am
+sure it must be dreadful."
+
+"No, I'm all right; thank you," said Rosalie. "At least I can walk."
+
+"Well, then, it isn't much then, is it?" asked Perrine.
+
+"One can't tell the first day. It's later that one suffers. I slipped,
+that's how it happened."
+
+"You must have been getting tired," said Perrine, thinking of her own
+feelings.
+
+"Sure, it's always when one is tired that one is caught," said Rosalie.
+"We are quick and sharp first thing in the morning. I wonder what Aunt
+Zenobie will say!"
+
+"But it wasn't your fault," insisted Perrine.
+
+"I know that," said Rosalie, ruefully. "Grandmother will believe that,
+but Aunt Zenobie won't. She'll say it's 'cause I don't want to work."
+
+On their way through the building several men stopped them to ask what was
+the matter. Some pitied Rosalie, but most of them listened indifferently,
+as though they were used to such accidents. They said that it was always
+so: one gets hurt the same as one falls sick; just a matter of chance, each
+in his turn, you today, and me tomorrow. But there were some who showed
+anger that such an accident could have occurred.
+
+They came to a small outside building which was used for offices. They
+had to mount some wide steps which led to a porch. Talouel was standing
+on the porch, walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, his hat
+on his head. He seemed to be taking a general survey, like a captain on
+the bridge.
+
+"What's the matter now?" he cried, angrily, when he saw the two girls.
+
+Rosalie showed him her bleeding hand.
+
+"Wrap your paw up in your handkerchief then," he said, roughly.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT'S THE MATTER NOW?" HE CRIED ANGRILY.]
+
+With Perrine's aid she got her handkerchief out of her pocket. Talouel
+strode up and down the porch. After the handkerchief had been twisted
+around the wounded hand he came over to poor Rosalie and stood towering
+above her.
+
+"Empty your pockets," he ordered. She looked at him, not understanding.
+
+"I say, take everything out of your pockets," he said again.
+
+She did what she was told, and drew from her pockets an assortment of
+things--a whistle made from a nut, some bones, a thimble, a stick of
+liquorice, three cents, and a little mirror.
+
+The bully at once seized the mirror.
+
+"Ah, I was sure of it," he cried. "While you were looking at yourself in
+the glass a thread broke and your spool stopped. You tried to catch the
+time lost and that's how it happened."
+
+"I did not look in my glass," said Rosalie.
+
+"Bah! you're all the same. I know you. Now: what's the trouble?"
+
+"I don't know, but my hand is crushed," said poor Rosalie, trying to
+keep back her tears.
+
+"Well, and what do you want me to do?"
+
+"Father Ninepins told me to come to you," said Rosalie.
+
+"And you ... what's the matter with you?" he asked, turning to Perrine.
+
+"Nothing," she replied, disconcerted.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Father Ninepins told her to bring me here," said Rosalie.
+
+"Well, she can take you to Dr. Ruchon and let him see it. But I'm going
+to look into this matter and find out if it is your fault, and if it is
+... look out!"
+
+He spoke in a loud, bullying voice which could be heard throughout the
+offices.
+
+As the two girls were about to go M. Vulfran Paindavoine appeared,
+guiding himself with his hand along the wall.
+
+"What's it all about, Talouel? What's the matter here?"
+
+"Nothing much, sir," replied the foreman. "One of the girls has hurt her
+hand."
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+"Here I am, Monsieur Vulfran," said Rosalie, going up to him.
+
+"Why, it's Mother Francoise's granddaughter, Rosalie, isn't it?" asked
+the blind man.
+
+"Yes, it's me, Monsieur Vulfran," said Rosalie, beginning to cry. Harsh
+words had hardened her heart, but this tone of pity was too much for
+poor Rosalie.
+
+"What is the matter with your hand, my poor girl?" asked the blind man.
+
+"Oh, sir, I think my two fingers are broken," she said, "although I am
+not in much pain."
+
+"Well, why are you crying?" asked M. Vulfran, tenderly.
+
+"Because you speak so kindly to me."
+
+Talouel shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Now go home at once," said M. Vulfran, "and I'll send the doctor to
+you."
+
+"Write a note to Dr. Ruchon," he said, turning to Talouel, "and tell him
+to call at Mother Francoise's house; say that the matter is urgent and
+he must go there at once."
+
+"Do you want anyone to go with you?" he asked, addressing Rosalie.
+
+"Oh, thank you, Monsieur Vulfran; I have a friend here with me," she
+replied.
+
+"She can go with you then, and tell your grandmother that you will be
+paid while you are away."
+
+It was Perrine now who felt like crying, but catching Talouel's glance,
+she stiffened. It was not until they had passed out of the yard that she
+betrayed her emotion.
+
+"Isn't Monsieur Vulfran kind?" she said.
+
+"Yes," replied Rosalie; "he would be all right if he were alone, but
+with Skinny he can't be; he hasn't the time and he has a lot to think
+about."
+
+"Well, he seemed very kind to you," said little Perrine.
+
+"Oh, yes," Rosalie said, drawing herself up; "I make him think of his
+son. My mother was Monsieur Edmond's foster sister."
+
+"Does he think of his son?"
+
+"He thinks of nothing else."
+
+Everybody came to their doors as Rosalie and Perrine passed. Rosalie's
+handkerchief was covered with blood. Most of the people were merely
+curious, others felt sorry, others were angry, knowing that what had
+happened to this girl that day might happen the next day, at any moment,
+to their fathers, husbands, and children. Was not everyone in
+Maraucourt employed at the factory?
+
+"You come on in with me," said Rosalie, when they reached the house;
+"then perhaps Aunt Zenobie won't say much."
+
+But Perrine's presence had no effect upon the terrible aunt. Seeing
+Rosalie arrive at such an unusual hour, and noticing that her hand was
+wrapped up, she cried out shrilly: "Now, then, you've gone and hurt
+yourself, you lazy bones. I bet you did it on purpose."
+
+"Oh, I'm goin' to be paid," retorted Rosalie, scornfully.
+
+"You think so, do you?"
+
+"Monsieur Vulfran told me that I should."
+
+But this information did not appease Aunt Zenobie. She continued to
+scold until Mother Francoise, leaving her store, came to see what was
+the matter. But the old grandmother, instead of showing anger, put her
+arms about Rosalie and said: "Oh, my dearie; you've gone and got hurt."
+
+"Just a little, grandmother ... it's my fingers ... but it ain't much."
+
+"We must have Dr. Ruchon."
+
+"Monsieur Vulfran is going to send him here."
+
+Perrine was about to follow them into the house when Aunt Zenobie turned
+upon her and stopped her.
+
+"What are you coming for?" she asked. "Do you think we need you to look
+after her?"
+
+"Thank you for coming," called out Rosalie to Perrine.
+
+Perrine had nothing to do but to return to the factory, which she did.
+But just as she reached the gates a whistle announced that it was
+closing time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+NEW SHOES
+
+
+A dozen times during the day she had asked herself how she could
+possibly sleep in that room where she had been almost suffocated. She
+was sure that she would not be able to sleep any better that night, or
+the next, or the next.
+
+And if she could not find rest after a hard day's work, whatever would
+happen to her?
+
+In her little mind she weighed all the consequences of this terrible
+question. If she had not the strength to do her work she would be sent
+away from the factory, and that would be the end of all her hopes. She
+would be ill and there would be no one to help her, and she would have
+to lie down at the foot of a tree and die.
+
+It is true that unless she wished she was not obliged to occupy the bed
+that she had paid for, but where would she find another, and what would
+she say to Rosalie? How could she say in a nice way that what was good
+for others was not good for her, and when they knew how disgusted she
+had been, how would they treat her? She might create such ill feeling
+that she would be forced to leave the factory.
+
+The day had passed without her having come to a decision.
+
+But now that Rosalie had hurt her hand the situation was changed. Poor
+Rosalie would probably have to stay in bed for several days, and she
+would not know what happened in the house at the end of the yard. She
+would not know who slept in the room or who did not; consequently she
+need fear no questions. And, on the other hand, as none of the girls in
+the room knew who the new lodger for the night had been, neither would
+they bother about her; it might very well be someone who had decided to
+find a lodging elsewhere.
+
+Reasoning thus, she decided quickly that she would go and sleep in her
+new little home. How good it would be to sleep there--nothing to fear
+from anyone, a roof to cover her head, without counting the enjoyment of
+living in a house of one's own.
+
+The matter was quite decided, and after having been to the baker's to
+buy another half a pound of bread for her supper, instead of returning
+to Mother Francoise's she again took the road that she had taken early
+that morning.
+
+She slipped behind the hedge as the factory hands who lived outside
+Maraucourt came tramping along the road on their way home. She did not
+wish to be seen by them. While she waited for them to pass she gathered
+a quantity of rushes and ferns and made a broom. Her new home was clean
+and comfortable, but with a little attention it could be made more so,
+and she would pick a lot of dried ferns and make a good soft bed to lie
+upon.
+
+Forgetting her fatigue, she quickly tied the broom together with some
+wisps of straw and fastened it to a stick. No less quickly a bunch of
+ferns was arranged in a mass so that she could easily carry them to her
+hut.
+
+The road was now deserted as far as she could see. Hoisting the bed of
+ferns on her back and taking the broom in her hands, she ran down the
+hill and across the road. When she came to the narrow path she had to
+slacken her speed, for the ferns caught in the branches and she could
+not pass without going down on her knees.
+
+Upon arriving at the island, she began at once to do her housework. She
+threw away the old ferns, then commenced to sweep everywhere, the roof,
+the walls and the ground.
+
+As she looked out over the pond and saw the reeds growing thickly, a
+bright idea came to her. She needed some shoes. One does not go about a
+deserted island in leather shoes. She knew how to plait, and she would
+make a pair of soles with the reeds and get a little canvas for the tops
+and tie them on with ribbon.
+
+As soon as she had finished her sweeping she ran out to the pond and
+picked a quantity of the most flexible reeds and carried them back to
+the door of her hut and commenced to work. But after she had made a
+plait of reeds about a yard long she found that this sole that she was
+making would be too light; because it was too hollow, there would be no
+solidity, and that before plaiting the reeds they would have to undergo
+a preparation which in crushing the fibres would transform them into
+coarse strings.
+
+However, this did not stop her. Now she needed a hammer, of course she
+could not find one, but what she did find was a big round stone, which
+served her purpose very well indeed. Then she commenced to beat the
+reeds. Night came on while she was still at work, and she went to sleep
+dreaming of the beautiful sandals tied with blue ribbons which she would
+have, for she did not doubt but that she would succeed with what she had
+undertaken ... if not the first time, well, then the second or the third
+... or the tenth.
+
+By the next evening she had plaited enough to begin the soles, and the
+following day, having bought a curved awl for the price of one sou, some
+thread for one sou, a piece of ribbon for the same price, a small piece
+of rough canvas for four sous, in all seven sous, which was all that she
+could spend if she did not wish to go without bread on the Saturday, she
+tried to make a sole like those worn on shoes. The first one that she
+made was almost round. This was not exactly the shape of the foot. The
+second one, to which she gave much more attention, seemed to resemble
+nothing at all; the third was a little better, but finally the fourth,
+which, with some practice, she had managed to tighten in the center and
+draw in at the heel, could pass for a sole.
+
+Once more she had proved that with a little perseverance, a little will,
+one can do what one wants, even if at first it seems impossible. And she
+had done this with scarcely anything, a few sous, with no tools, with
+hardly anything at her command. She was really very happy and she
+considered that her work was very successful.
+
+Now what she needed most to finish her sandals were scissors. They would
+cost so much to buy she would have to manage without them. Fortunately
+she had her knife, and with the help of a stone to sharpen the point she
+could make it fine enough to trim the canvas.
+
+But the cutting of the pieces of canvas she found quite a difficult
+matter. Finally she accomplished it, and on the following Saturday
+morning she had the satisfaction of going forth shod in a nice pair of
+gray canvas shoes, tied with blue ribbons crossed over her stockings.
+
+While she had been working on her shoes (the work had taken four
+evenings and three mornings beginning at the break of day), she had
+wondered what she should do with her leather shoes while she was away
+from the hut. She had no fear that they would be stolen by anyone, for
+no one came to the place, but then the rats might eat them. So as to
+prevent this she would put them in a place where the rats could not get
+at them.
+
+This was a rather difficult matter, for the rats seemed to be
+everywhere. She had no closet, no box to put them away in. Finally she
+tied them to the roof with some wisps of straw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+STRANGE HOUSEKEEPING
+
+
+Although she was very proud of her shoes, she was rather anxious as to
+how she would conduct herself while wearing them at work. While she
+loaded her truck or pushed it along she was continually looking down at
+her feet.
+
+By doing so she would probably attract the attention of the other girls.
+This is exactly what did happen. Several of her comrades noticed them
+and complimented her.
+
+"Where did you buy those shoes?" one asked.
+
+"They are not shoes; they are sandals," corrected Perrine.
+
+"No, they are not; they are shoes," said the girl; "but whatever they
+are they sure are pretty. Where did you buy them?"
+
+"I made them myself with plaited reeds and four cents worth of canvas,"
+replied Perrine.
+
+"They _are_ beautiful."
+
+The success she had made of her shoes decided her to undertake another
+task. She had thought several times of doing it, but it was much more
+difficult, or so she thought, and might mean too much expense. She
+wanted to make a chemise to replace the only one which she possessed.
+For it was very inconvenient to take off this only garment to wash it
+and then wait until it was dry to put it on again. She needed two yards
+of calico, and she wondered how much it would cost. And how would she
+cut the goods when she had them? These were very difficult questions to
+answer. She certainly had something to think about.
+
+She wondered if it would not be wiser to begin by making a print dress
+to replace her waist and skirt, which was worn more than ever now, as
+she had to sleep in it. It could last a very little while longer. When
+it was finished, how would she go out? For her daily bread, as much as
+for the success of her future plans, she must continue to be admitted to
+the factory.
+
+Yet on the Saturday evening when she had the three francs in her hand
+which she had earned for the week's work, she could not resist the
+temptation of a chemise. She still considered a waist and skirt of the
+utmost utility, but then a chemise also was indispensable, and besides
+there were many arguments in favor of the chemise--cleanliness in which
+she had been brought up, self-respect. Finally the chemise won the day.
+She would mend her waist and skirt; as the material had formerly been
+very strong, it would still hold a few more darns.
+
+Every day at the luncheon hour she went to Mother Francoise's house to
+ask news of Rosalie. Sometimes news was given to her, sometimes not,
+according to whether it was the grandmother or the aunt whom she saw.
+
+On her way to inquire for Rosalie she passed a little store which was
+divided into two sections. On one side newspapers, pictures and songs
+were sold, and on the other linens, calicos and prints. Perrine had
+often looked in this store. How nice it would be to go in and have them
+cut off as much material as she wished! Sometimes, when she had been
+looking in the window, pretending to look at the newspapers or a song,
+she had seen girls from the factory enter and come out shortly after
+with parcels carefully wrapped up, which they held clasped tightly to
+them. She had thought then that such pleasure was not for her ... at
+least not then.
+
+Now she could enter the store if she wished, for she had three silver
+coins in her hand. She went in.
+
+"What is it you want, mademoiselle?" asked a little old woman politely,
+with a pleasant smile.
+
+"Will you please tell me what is the price of calico the yard ... the
+cheapest?" asked Perrine timidly.
+
+"I have it at forty centimes the yard," said the old woman.
+
+Perrine gave a sigh of relief.
+
+"Will you cut me two yards, please?" she said.
+
+"It won't wear very well ... but the sixty centimes...."
+
+"The forty centime one will do, thank you," said little Perrine.
+
+"As you like," said the old woman. "I wouldn't like you to come back
+after and say...."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't do that," interrupted Perrine hastily.
+
+[Illustration: SHE HAD SOME TIME AGO DECIDED ON THE SHAPE.]
+
+The old woman cut off two yards, and Perrine noticed that it was not
+white nor shiny like the one she had admired in the window.
+
+"Any more?" asked the shopkeeper when she had torn the calico with a
+sharp, dry rip.
+
+"I want some thread also," said Perrine; "a spool of white, number
+forty."
+
+Now it was Perrine's turn to leave the store with her little newspaper
+parcel hugged tightly to her heart. Out of her three francs (sixty
+centimes) she had spent eighteen, so there still remained forty-two
+until the following Saturday. She would have to spend twenty sous for
+bread, so that left her fourteen sous for extras.
+
+She ran back all the way to her little island. When she reached her
+cabin she was out of breath, but that did not prevent her from beginning
+her work at once. She had some time ago decided upon the shape she would
+give her chemise. She would make it quite straight, first, because that
+was the simplest and the easiest way for one who had never cut out
+anything before and who had no scissors, and secondly, because she could
+use the string that was in her old one for this new one.
+
+Everything went very well; to begin with, there was no cutting in the
+straight piece. Perhaps there was nothing to admire in her work but at
+any rate she did not have to do it over again. But when the time came
+for shaping the openings for the head and arms then she experienced
+difficulties! She had only a knife to do the cutting and she was so
+afraid that she would tear the calico. With a trembling hand she took
+the risk. At last it was finished, and on Tuesday morning she would be
+able to go to the factory wearing a chemise earned by her own work, cut
+and sewn by her own hands.
+
+That day when she went to Mother Francoise's; it was Rosalie who came to
+meet her with her arm in a sling.
+
+"Are you better?" asked Perrine.
+
+"No, but they let me get up and they said that I could come out in the
+yard," replied Rosalie.
+
+Perrine was very pleased to see her friend again and asked all kinds of
+questions, but Rosalie seemed rather reserved. Perrine could not
+understand this attitude.
+
+"Where are you living now?" asked Rosalie.
+
+Fearing to say where, Perrine evaded a direct answer to this question.
+
+"It was too expensive for me here," she said, "and I had so little money
+left for food and other things."
+
+"Well, did you find anything cheaper elsewhere?"
+
+"I don't have to pay."
+
+"Oh!..."
+
+She looked narrowly at Perrine, then her curiosity got the better of
+her.
+
+"Who are you with?" she asked.
+
+Again Perrine could not give a direct answer.
+
+"I'll tell you that later," she said.
+
+"Oh, when you like," replied Rosalie carelessly, "only let me tell you
+this, if you see Aunt Zenobie in the yard or at the door you had better
+not come in. She doesn't want to see you here. If you come it is better
+to come in the evening, then she ... she is busy."
+
+Perrine went to the factory very saddened by this welcome. What had she
+done that she could not go into the house? All day long she remained
+under the impression that she had offended them. When evening came and
+she found herself alone in the cabin having nothing to do for the first
+time in eight days, she was even more depressed. Then she thought that
+she would go and walk in the fields that surrounded her little island,
+for she had not yet had time to do this.
+
+It was a beautiful evening. She wandered around the pond, walking in the
+high grass that had not been trodden by anyone. She looked across the
+water at her little home which seemed almost hidden amongst the trees.
+The birds and beasts could not suspect that it was the work of man
+behind which he could lie in ambush with his gun.
+
+At that moment she heard a noise at her feet which frightened her and a
+water hen jumped into the water, terrified. Then looking about her she
+saw a nest made of grass and feathers in which were ten white eggs,
+dirty little eggs with small dark spots.
+
+Instead of being placed on the ground amongst the grass the nest was
+floating on the water. She examined it but without touching it, and
+noticed that it was made in a way to go up and down according to the
+flow of the water, and was so surrounded with reeds that neither the
+current nor the wind could carry it away.
+
+The mother hen, anxious, took up her position at a distance and stayed
+there. Perrine hid herself in the high grass and waited to see if she
+would come back to her nest.
+
+As she did not return, she went on with her walk, and again and again
+the rustling of her dress frightened other birds. The water hens, so
+lissom in their escape, ran to the floating leaves of the water lilies
+without going under. She saw birds everywhere.
+
+When an hour later she returned to her little home the hut was hidden
+half in the shadows of night. It was so quiet and pretty she thought,
+and how pleased she was that she had shown as much intelligence as these
+birds ... to make her nest here.
+
+With Perrine, as with many little children, it was the events of the day
+which shaped her dreams by night. The unhappiness through which she had
+passed the last few months had often colored her dreams, and many times
+since her troubles had commenced, she had awakened in the night with the
+perspiration pouring off her. Her sleep was disturbed with nightmares
+caused by the miseries she had experienced in the day.
+
+Now since she had been at Maraucourt and had new hopes and was at work,
+the nightmares had been less frequent and so she was not so sad.
+
+Now she thought of what she was going to do at the factory the next day,
+of the skirt and waist that she would make, of her underwear.
+
+Now on this particular evening after she had wandered over the fields
+surrounding her home and had entered her little nest to go to sleep,
+strange visions passed before her sleepy eyes. She thought that she was
+walking about the field exploring, and came upon a great big kitchen, a
+wonderful kitchen like in castles, and there were a number of little
+dwarfs of the most diabolical shapes, sitting around a big table before
+a blazing fire; some of them were breaking eggs, others were beating
+them up until they were white and frothy; and some of these eggs were as
+large as melons and others were as small as a little pea, and the dwarfs
+made the most extraordinary dishes from them. They seemed to know the
+every kind of dish that could be made with eggs,--boiled eggs with
+cheese and butter; with tomatoes; poached; fried eggs; various omelettes
+with ham and kidney, jam or rum; the rum set afire and flaming with
+sparkling lights. And then there were more important dishes still which
+only the head cooks were handling ... pastries and delicious creams.
+
+Now and again she half woke and she tried to banish the stupid dream
+but it came again and the elfs still went on doing their fantastic work,
+so that when the factory whistle sounded she was still watching them
+prepare some chocolate creams which she could almost taste in her mouth.
+
+Then she knew that what had impressed her most during her walk was not
+the beauty of the night but simply those eggs which she had seen in the
+nest, which had told her stomach that for fourteen days she had eaten
+only bread and water. These eggs had made her dream of the elfs and all
+those delicious things that they were making; she was hungry for good
+things and she had found it out through her dream.
+
+Why had she not taken those eggs, or at least some of them, they did not
+belong to anyone for the duck was wild? Of course as she had no saucepan
+or frying pan or any kitchen utensils whatever, she could not prepare
+any of the dishes that she had seen made before her dream eyes. But
+there, that was the best about eggs, they could be used without any very
+skillful preparation; a lighted match put to a little heap of dry wood
+and then she could cook them hard or soft, how she liked, in the hot
+ashes. And she would buy a saucepan or a pan as soon as possible.
+
+Several times this idea came to her while she was at work that day until
+finally she decided to buy a box of matches and a cent's worth of salt.
+As soon as she had made her purchases she ran back to her hut.
+
+She had been too interested in the place where she had discovered the
+nest not to be able to find it again. The mother was not occupying the
+nest but she had been there during the day because Perrine saw now that
+instead of ten eggs there were eleven, which proved that she had not
+finished laying.
+
+Here was a good chance for her to help herself. In the first place the
+eggs were fresh, and then if she only took five or six, the duck, who
+did not know how to count, would not notice that any one had been there.
+
+A short time ago Perrine would not have had any scruples and she would
+have quickly emptied the nest, without a thought, but the sorrows that
+she had experienced had made her very thoughtful for the griefs of
+others; in this same manner her love for Palikare had made her feel an
+affection for all animals that she had not known in her early childhood.
+
+After she had taken the eggs she wondered where she could cook them;
+naturally this could not be done in the cabin for the slightest wreath
+of smoke which would emerge from it would indicate to anyone who saw it
+that someone was living there.
+
+There was a gypsy camp quite near which she passed by to get to her
+island, and a little smoke coming from there would attract no attention.
+
+She quickly got together some wood and lighted it; soon she had a fire
+in the ashes of which she cooked one of her eggs. She lacked an egg cup
+but what did that matter? A little hole made in a piece of bread could
+hold the egg. In a few minutes she had the satisfaction of dipping a
+piece of bread in her egg, which was cooked to perfection. It seemed to
+her as she took the first mouthful that she had never eaten anything so
+good.
+
+When she had finished her supper she wondered how she should use the
+remainder of her eggs. She would have to use them sparingly for she
+might not be able to get any more for a long time. A hot soup with an
+egg broken into it would be very good.
+
+As the idea of having some soup came into her head, it was almost
+immediately followed by the regret that she could not have it. The
+success of her canvas shoes and her underwear had inspired her with a
+certain amount of confidence. She had proved that one can do a great
+deal if one perseveres, but she had not enough confidence to imagine
+that she could ever make a saucepan for her soup or a metal or wooden
+spoon, and if she waited until she had the money required to buy these
+utensils, she would have to content herself with the smell of the soup
+that came to her as she passed by the open doors.
+
+She was telling herself this as she went to work, but just before she
+reached the village she saw a heap of rubbish by the side of the road
+and amongst the debris she noticed some tin cans which had been used for
+potted meat, fish and vegetables. There were different shapes, some
+large, some small, some high, some low.
+
+Noticing how shiny they were on the surface, she instinctively stopped;
+she had not a moment's hesitation. The saucepans, dishes, forks, spoons
+which she lacked were all here; she could have a whole array of kitchen
+utensils; she had only to make her choice. With a bound she was across
+the road; quickly picking out four cans she ran back and hid them behind
+a hedge so that when evening came she would be able to find them.
+
+When evening came she found her treasures and made for her home.
+
+She did not wish to make a noise on her island any more than she wished
+smoke to be seen, so at the end of her day's work she went to her
+gypsy's camp hoping that she might find a tool or something that would
+serve her for a hammer with which to flatten the tins that were to be
+used for plates, saucepans, spoons, etc.
+
+She found that it was a very difficult task to make a spoon. It took her
+no less than three days to do so, and when it was done, she was not at
+all sure that if she had shown it to anyone, he would have recognized it
+for a spoon. But she had made something that served her purpose, that
+was enough; besides, she ate alone and there would be no one to notice
+her utensils.
+
+Now for the soup for which she longed! All she wanted was butter and
+sorrel. She would have to buy butter and naturally as she couldn't make
+milk she would have to buy that also.
+
+The sorrel she would find wild in the fields and she could also find
+wild carrots and oyster plants. They were not so good as the cultivated
+vegetables but they would suit her very well indeed.
+
+She not only had eggs and vegetables for her dinner, and her pots and
+pans, but there were fish in the pond and if she were sharp enough to
+catch them she would have fish too.
+
+She needed a line and some worms. She had a long piece of string left over
+from the piece she had bought for her shoes and she had only to spend one
+sou for some hooks, then with a piece of horse hair she could pick up
+outside the blacksmith's door, she would have a line good enough to catch
+several kinds of fish; if the best in the pond passed disdainfully before
+her simple bait then she would have to be satisfied with little ones.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A BANQUET IN THE HUT
+
+
+Perrine was so busy of an evening that she let an entire week pass
+before she again went to see Rosalie. However, one of the girls at the
+factory who lodged with Mother Francoise had brought her news of her
+friend. Perrine, as well as being busy, had been afraid that she might
+see that terrible Aunt Zenobie and so she had let the days pass.
+
+Then one evening after work she thought that she would not return at
+once to her little island. She had no supper to prepare. The night
+before she had caught some fish and cooked it, and she intended to have
+it cold for her supper that evening.
+
+Rosalie was alone in the garden sitting under an apple tree. When she
+saw Perrine she came to the gate, half pleased, half annoyed.
+
+"I thought that you were not coming any more," she said.
+
+"I've been very busy."
+
+"What with?"
+
+Perrine showed Rosalie her shoes. Then she told her how she had made
+herself a chemise and the trouble she had had in cutting it.
+
+"Couldn't you borrow a pair of scissors from the people in your house?"
+asked Rosalie in astonishment.
+
+"There is no one in my house who could lend me scissors," replied
+Perrine.
+
+"Everybody has scissors!"
+
+Perrine wondered if she ought to keep her abode a secret any longer. She
+was afraid that if she did so she might offend Rosalie, so she decided
+to tell her.
+
+"Nobody lives in my house," she said smiling.
+
+"Whatever do you mean?" asked Rosalie with round eyes.
+
+"That's so, and that's why, as I wasn't able to borrow a saucepan to cook
+my soup in and a spoon to eat it with, I had to make them and I can tell
+you that it was harder for me to make my spoon than to make my shoes."
+
+"You're joking!"
+
+"No, really."
+
+Then she told her everything, how she had taken possession of the cabin,
+and made her own cooking utensils, and about her search for eggs, and
+how she fished and cooked in the gypsy's camping ground.
+
+Rosalie's eyes opened wider still in wonder and delight. She seemed to
+be listening to a wonderful story.
+
+When Perrine told her how she made her first sorrel soup, she clapped
+her hands.
+
+"Oh, how delicious! How you must have enjoyed it!" she cried. "What
+fun!"
+
+"Yes, everything is great fun when things go right," said Perrine; "but
+when things won't go! I worked three days for my spoon. I couldn't scoop it
+out properly. I spoiled two large pieces of tin and had only one left. And
+my! how I banged my fingers with the stones that I had to use in place of a
+hammer!"
+
+"But your soup, that's what I'm thinking of," said Rosalie.
+
+"Yes, it was good."
+
+"You know," said Perrine, "there's sorrel and carrots, watercress, onions,
+parsnips, turnips, and ever so many things to eat that one can find in the
+fields. They are not quite the same as the cultivated vegetables, but they
+are good!"
+
+"One ought to know that!"
+
+"It was my father who taught me to know them."
+
+Rosalie was silent for a moment, then she said:
+
+"Would you like me to come and see you?"
+
+"I should love to have you if you'll promise not to tell anyone where I
+live," said Perrine, delightedly.
+
+"I promise," said Rosalie, solemnly.
+
+"Well, when will you come?"
+
+"On Sunday I am going to see one of my aunts at Saint-Pipoy; on my way
+back in the afternoon I can stop...."
+
+Perrine hesitated for a moment, then she said amiably:
+
+"Do better than just call; stay to dinner with me."
+
+Rosalie, like the real peasant that she was, began to reply vaguely in
+a ceremonious fashion, neither saying yes nor no; but it was quite plain
+to see that she wished very much to accept the invitation. Perrine
+insisted.
+
+"Do come; I shall be so pleased," she said. "I am so lonesome."
+
+"Well, really...." began Rosalie.
+
+"Yes, dine with me; that is settled," said Perrine, brightly; "but you
+must bring your own spoon, because I shall not have the time nor the tin
+to make another one."
+
+"Shall I bring my bread also? I can...."
+
+"I wish you would. I'll wait for you in the gypsy's ground. You'll find
+me doing my cooking."
+
+Perrine was very pleased at the thought of receiving a guest in her own
+home ... there was a menu to compose, provisions to find ... what an
+affair! She felt quite important. Who would have said a few days before
+that she would be able to offer dinner to a friend!
+
+But there was a serious side. Suppose she could not find any eggs or
+catch a fish! Her menu then would be reduced to sorrel soup only. What a
+dinner!
+
+But fortune favored her. On Friday evening she found some eggs. True,
+they were only water-hen's eggs, and not so large as the duck's eggs,
+but then she must not be too particular. And she was just as lucky with
+her fishing. With a red worm on the end of her line, she managed to
+catch a fine perch, which was quite sufficient to satisfy hers and
+Rosalie's appetite. Yet, however, she wanted a dessert, and some
+gooseberries growing under a weeping willow furnished it. True, they
+were not quite ripe, but the merit of this fruit is that you can eat it
+green.
+
+When, late Sunday afternoon, Rosalie arrived at the gypsy camping
+ground, she found Perrine seated before her fire upon which the soup was
+boiling.
+
+"I waited for you to mix the yolk of an egg in the soup," said Perrine.
+"You have only to turn it with your free hand while I gently pour the
+soup over it; the bread is soaked."
+
+Although Rosalie had dressed herself specially for this dinner, she was
+not afraid to help. This was play, and it all seemed very amusing to
+her.
+
+Soon the soup was ready, and it only had to be carried across to the
+island. This Perrine did.
+
+The cabin door was open, and Rosalie could see before she entered that
+the place was filled with flowers. In each corner were grouped, in
+artistic showers, wild roses, yellow iris, cornflowers, and poppies, and
+the floor was entirely covered with a beautiful soft green moss.
+
+Rosalie's exclamations of delight amply repaid Perrine for all the
+trouble she had taken.
+
+"How beautiful! Oh, isn't it pretty!" she exclaimed.
+
+On a bed of fresh ferns two large flat leaves were placed opposite each
+other; these were to serve for plates; and on a very much larger leaf,
+long and narrow, which is as it should be for a dish, the perch was
+placed, garnished with a border of watercress. Another leaf, but very
+small, served as a salt-cellar, also another holding the dessert.
+Between each dish was a white anemone, its pure whiteness standing out
+dazzlingly against the fresh verdure.
+
+"If you will sit down...." said Perrine, extending her hand. And when
+they had taken their seats opposite one another the dinner commenced.
+
+"How sorry I should have been if I hadn't have come," said Rosalie,
+speaking with her mouth full; "it is so pretty and so good."
+
+"Why shouldn't you have come?"
+
+"Because they wanted to send me to Picquigny for Mr. Bendit; he is ill."
+
+"What's the matter with him?"
+
+"He's got typhoid fever. He's very ill. Since yesterday he hasn't known
+what he's been talking about, and he doesn't know anybody. And I had an
+idea about you...."
+
+"Me! What about me?"
+
+"Something you can do...."
+
+"If there is anything I can do for Mr. Bendit I'd be only too willing.
+He was kind to me; but I'm only a poor girl; I don't understand."
+
+"Give me a little more fish and some more watercress, and I'll explain,"
+said Rosalie. "You know that Mr. Bendit has charge of the foreign
+correspondence; he translates the English and German letters. Naturally, as
+he is off his head now, he can't translate. They wanted to get somebody
+else to replace him, but as this other man might take his place after he
+is better (that is, if he does get better), M. Fabry and M. Mombleux have
+taken charge of the work, so that he will be sure to have his job when he's
+up again. But now M. Fabry has been sent away to Scotland and M. Mombleux
+is in a fix, because, although he can read German all right, he's not much
+on English. If the writing isn't very clear he can't make out the letters
+at all. I heard him saying so at the table when I was waiting on them. So I
+thought I'd tell him that you can speak English just as good as you can
+French."
+
+"I spoke French with my father, and English with my mother," said
+Perrine, "and when we were all three talking together we spoke sometimes
+one, sometimes the other, mixing two languages without paying
+attention."
+
+"I wasn't sure whether I should say anything about you or not, but now I
+will, if you like."
+
+"Why, yes; do, if you think a poor girl like me could be of any use to
+them."
+
+"'Tain't a question of being a poor girl or a young lady; it's a
+question of knowing English," said Rosalie.
+
+"I speak it, but to translate a business letter is another thing," said
+Perrine, doubtfully.
+
+"It'll be all right with M. Mombleux; he knows the business part."
+
+"Well, then, tell him I shall be very pleased if I can do anything for
+M. Bendit."
+
+"I'll tell him."
+
+The perch, although a large one, had all been eaten, and all the
+watercress had disappeared. It was now time for the dessert. Perrine got
+up and replaced the fish plates with smaller leaf plates in the shape of
+a cup; she had picked the prettiest, with variegated shades, and marked
+as exquisitely as enameled ware. Then she offered her guest the
+gooseberries.
+
+"Let me offer you some fruit from my own garden," she said, laughing, as
+though she were playing at keeping doll's house.
+
+"Where is your garden?"
+
+"Over your head. There is a gooseberry bush growing in the branches of
+this willow tree which holds up the cabin, so it seems."
+
+"You know you won't be able to live in here much longer," said Rosalie.
+
+"Until the winter, I think."
+
+"Until winter! Why, the bird catchers will need this place pretty soon;
+that I'm sure."
+
+"Oh! ... Oh, dear ... Oh, dear!"
+
+The day, which had begun so brightly for Perrine, ended sadly. That
+night was certainly the worst Perrine had passed since she had been on
+her little island.
+
+Where should she go?
+
+And all her utensils that she had taken such trouble to make; what
+should she do with them?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+AURELIE'S CHANCE
+
+
+If Rosalie had not spoken to Perrine of the near opening of the shooting
+season for water fowl, Perrine would have stayed on in her cabin unaware
+of the danger that might come to her. Although this news came as a blow
+to her, what Rosalie had said about M. Bendit and the translations she
+might do for M. Mombleux gave her something else to think about.
+
+Yes, her island was charming, and it would be a great grief for her to
+leave it. And yet here was an opportunity where she could be useful to
+two valued employes at the factory, and this step would lead to other
+steps, and it would open doors perhaps through which she could pass
+later. This was something that she should consider above all else, even
+above the sorrow of being dispossessed of her little kingdom. It was not
+for this game--robbing nests, catching fish, picking flowers, listening
+to the birds sing--that she had endured all the misery and fatigue of
+her long journey. She had an object in view. She must remember what her
+mother told her to do, and do it.
+
+She had told Rosalie that she would call at Mother Francoise's house on
+Monday to see if Mombleux had need of her services. Rosalie came to
+meet her and said that as no letters had come from England that Monday,
+there would not be any translations to make that day, but perhaps there
+would be something for the next day. This was at the luncheon hour, so
+Perrine returned to the factory. It had just struck two when Ninepin
+hopped up to her on his wooden leg and told her that she was wanted at
+the offices at once.
+
+"What for?" she asked in amazement.
+
+"What's that to do with me? They just sent word for you to go to the
+office ... go on," he said, roughly.
+
+She hurried off. She could not understand. If it was a matter of helping
+Mombleux with a translation, why should she have to go to the office,
+where everyone could see her and know that he had had to ask for her
+help?
+
+She quickly went up the steps, where she saw Talouel standing outside
+waiting for her.
+
+"Are you the girl who speaks English?" he asked. "Now, no lies, 'cause
+you speak French without an accent."
+
+"My mother was English and my father was French," replied Perrine, "so I
+speak both languages."
+
+"Good. You are to go to Saint-Pipoy. Monsieur Paindavoine wants you."
+
+She was so surprised at this news that she stood staring at the manager
+in amazement.
+
+"Well, stupid?" he said.
+
+As though to excuse herself, she said:
+
+"I was taken aback. I'm a stranger here and I don't know where
+Saint-Pipoy is."
+
+"You won't be lost; you are to go in the carriage," said the manager.
+"Here, William...."
+
+M. Paindavoine's horse and carriage, which had been standing in the
+shade, now drew up.
+
+"Here's the girl," said the manager to a young man. "Take her to M.
+Paindavoine quickly."
+
+Perrine was already down the steps, and was about to take her seat
+beside William when he stopped her with a sign of his hand.
+
+"Not here; take the back seat," he said.
+
+There was a narrow seat for one person at the back. She got up into it
+and they started off at a brisk trot.
+
+When they had left the village behind William, slacking the horse's
+speed, turned round to Perrine.
+
+"You're going to have a chance to please the boss," he said.
+
+"How so?" asked Perrine.
+
+"He's got some English mechanics come over to put a machine together,
+and they can't understand each other. He's got M. Mombleux there, who
+says he can speak English, but if he does it isn't the same English as
+these Englishmen speak. They keep on jabbering, but don't seem to
+understand, and the boss is mad. It makes you split your sides to hear
+'em. At last M. Mombleux couldn't go on any longer, and to calm the boss
+he said that he knew of a girl named Aurelie in the factory who spoke
+English, and the boss made me come off at once for you."
+
+There was a moment's silence; then he turned round again to Perrine.
+
+"If you speak English like M. Mombleux," he said mockingly, "perhaps
+it'd be better if you didn't go any farther.
+
+"Shall I put you down?" he added with a grin.
+
+"You can go on," said Perrine, quietly.
+
+"Well, I was just thinking for you; that's all," he said.
+
+"Thank you; but I wish to go on, please."
+
+Yet in spite of her apparent coolness, little Perrine was very nervous,
+because, although she was sure of her English, she did not know what
+sort of English the engineer spoke. As William had said mockingly, it
+was not the same that M. Mombleux understood. And she fully realized
+that there would be many technical words that she would not be able to
+translate. She would not understand, and she would hesitate, and then
+probably M. Paindavoine would be angry with her, the same as he had been
+with M. Mombleux.
+
+Above the tops of the poplars she could already see the great smoking
+chimneys of the factories of Saint-Pipoy. She knew that spinning and
+weaving were done here, the same as at Maraucourt, and, besides that, it
+was here that they manufactured red rope and string. But whether she
+knew that or not, it was nothing that would help her in the task before
+her.
+
+They turned the bend of the road. With a sweeping glance she could take
+in all the great buildings, and although these works were not so large
+as those of Maraucourt, they were nevertheless of considerable
+importance.
+
+The carriage passed through the great iron gates and soon stopped before
+the main office.
+
+"Come with me," said William.
+
+He led her into an office where M. Paindavoine was seated talking to the
+manager of the Saint-Pipoy works.
+
+"Here's the girl, sir," said William, holding his hat in his hand.
+
+"Very well; you can go," said his master.
+
+Without speaking to Perrine, M. Paindavoine made a sign to his manager
+to come nearer to him. Then he spoke to him in a low voice. The manager
+also dropped his voice to answer. But Perrine's hearing was keen, and
+she understood that they were speaking of her. She heard the manager
+reply: "A young girl, about twelve or thirteen, who looks intelligent."
+
+"Come here, my child," said M. Paindavoine, in the same tone that she
+had already heard him use to Rosalie, and which was very different from
+that which he used for his employes.
+
+She felt encouraged and went up to him.
+
+"What is your name?" he asked.
+
+"Aurelie."
+
+"Where are your father and mother?"
+
+"They are both dead."
+
+"How long have you been in my employ?"
+
+"For three weeks."
+
+"Where do you come from?"
+
+"I have just come from Paris."
+
+"You speak English?"
+
+"My mother was English, and I can speak in conversation, and I understand,
+but...."
+
+"There are no 'buts'; you know or you do not know."
+
+"I don't know the words used in various trades, because they use words that
+I have never heard, and I don't know the meaning of them," said Perrine.
+
+"You see, Benoist," said M. Paindavoine quickly; "what this little girl
+says is so; that shows she is not stupid."
+
+"She looks anything but that," answered Benoist.
+
+"Well, perhaps we shall be able to manage somehow," said M. Vulfran. He
+got up, and placing one arm on the manager, he leaned on his cane with
+the other.
+
+"Follow us, little girl," he said.
+
+Perrine usually had her eyes about her and noticed everything that
+happened, but she took no heed where she was going. As she followed in
+her grandfather's footsteps, she was plunged in thought. What would be
+the result of this interview with the English mechanics?
+
+They came to a big red brick building. Here she saw Mombleux walking
+back and forth, evidently in a bad humor, and it seemed to her that he
+threw her anything but a friendly look.
+
+They went in and were taken up to the first floor. Here in a big hall
+stood a number of wooden crates bearing a firm's name, "Morton and
+Pratt, Manchester." On one of the crates the Englishmen were sitting,
+waiting. Perrine noticed that from their dress they had every appearance
+of being gentlemen, and she hoped that she would be able better to
+understand them than if they had been rough workingmen. When M. Vulfran
+entered they rose.
+
+"Tell them that you can speak English and that they can explain to you,"
+said M. Vulfran.
+
+She did what she was told, and at the first words she had the satisfaction
+of seeing the Englishmen's faces brighten. It is true she only spoke a few
+words to begin the conversation, but the pleasant smile they gave her
+banished all her nervousness.
+
+"They understand her perfectly," said the manager.
+
+"Well, then, ask them," said M. Vulfran, "why they have come a week
+earlier than the date arranged for their coming, because it so happens
+that the engineer who was to direct them in their work, and who speaks
+English, is away for a few days."
+
+Perrine translated the phrase accurately, and one of the men answered at
+once.
+
+"They say," she said, "that they have been to Cambrai and put up some
+machinery, and they got through with their work quicker than they thought
+they would, so they came here direct instead of going back to England and
+returning again."
+
+"Whose machinery were they working on at Cambrai?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"It was for the M. M. and E. Aveline and Company."
+
+"What were the machines?"
+
+The question was put and the reply was given in English, but Perrine
+hesitated.
+
+"Why do you hesitate?" asked M. Vulfran, impatiently.
+
+"Because it's a word used in the business that I don't know," answered
+Perrine, timidly.
+
+"Say the word in English."
+
+"Hydraulic mangle."
+
+"That's all right," said M. Vulfran. He repeated the word in English,
+but with quite a different accent from the English mechanics, which
+explains why he had not understood them when they had spoken the words.
+
+"You see that Aveline and Company are ahead of us," he said, turning to
+his manager. "We have no time to lose. I am going to cable to Fabry to
+return at once; but while waiting we must persuade these young men to
+get to work. Ask them what they are standing there for, little girl."
+
+She translated the question, and the one who seemed to be the chief gave
+her a long answer.
+
+"Well?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"They are saying some things that are very difficult for me to understand."
+
+"However, try and explain to me."
+
+"They say that the floor is not strong enough to hold their machine,
+which weighs...."
+
+She stopped to question the workmen in English, who told her the weight.
+
+"Ah, that is it, is it?" said M. Vulfran.
+
+"And when the machine is started going its weight will break the
+flooring," she continued, turning to M. Vulfran.
+
+"The beams are sixty centimetres in width."
+
+She told the men what M. Vulfran said, listened to their reply, then
+continued:
+
+"They say that they have examined the flooring, and that it is not safe
+for this machine. They want a thorough test made and strong supports
+placed under the floor."
+
+"The supports can be placed there at once, and when Fabry returns a
+thorough examination will be made. Tell them that. Let them get to work
+without losing a moment. They can have all the workmen they need ...
+carpenters and masons, millwrights. They have only to tell you. You have
+to be at their service, and then you tell Monsieur Benoist what they
+require."
+
+She translated these instructions to the men, who appeared satisfied
+when she told them that she was to stay and interpret for them.
+
+"You will stay here," continued M. Vulfran. "Your food will be given to
+you and also a lodging at the inn. You will have nothing to pay there.
+And if we are pleased with you, you will receive something extra when
+Monsieur Fabry returns."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GRANDFATHER'S INTERPRETER
+
+
+She was an interpreter; that was far better than pushing trucks. When
+the day's work was over, acting in the capacity of interpreter, she
+escorted the two Englishmen to the village inn and engaged a room for
+them and one for herself, not a miserable garret where she would have to
+sleep with several others, but a real bedroom all to herself. As they
+could not speak one word of French, the two Englishmen asked her if she
+would not take her dinner with them. They ordered a dinner that would
+have been enough for ten men.
+
+That night she slept in a real bed and between real sheets, yet it was a
+very long time before she could get to sleep. Even when her eyelids grew
+too heavy to keep open her excitement was so great that every now and
+then she would start up in bed. She tried to force herself to be calm.
+She told herself that things would have to take their course, without
+her wondering all the time if she were going to be happy or not. That
+was the only sensible thing to do. Things seemed to be taking such a
+favorable turn she must wait. But the best arguments when addressed to
+oneself have never made anyone go to sleep, and the better the argument
+the more likely one is to keep awake.
+
+The next morning, when the factory whistle blew, she went to the door of
+the room occupied by the two machinists and knocked, and told them it
+was time to get up.
+
+They paid no heed to the whistle, however, and it was not until they had
+taken a bath and made an elaborate _toilette_, something unknown to the
+villagers in those parts, and partaken of a hearty breakfast, consisting
+of a thick, juicy steak, plenty of buttered toast and several cups of
+tea, that they showed any readiness to get to their work.
+
+Perrine, who had discreetly waited for them outside, wondered if they
+would ever be ready. When at last they came out, and she tripped behind
+them to the factory, her one thought was that her grandfather would
+surely be there ahead of them.
+
+However, it was not until the afternoon that M. Vulfran arrived. He was
+accompanied by his youngest nephew, Casimir.
+
+The youth looked disdainfully at the work the machinists had done, which
+in truth was merely in preparation.
+
+"These fellows won't do much before Fabry returns," he said. "That's not
+surprising considering the supervision you have given them, uncle."
+
+He said this jeeringly, but instead of taking his words lightly, his
+uncle reprimanded him severely: "If you had been able to attend to this
+matter, I should not have been forced to have called in this little
+girl, who until now has only pushed trucks."
+
+Perrine saw Casimir bite his lip in anger, but he controlled himself and
+said lightly: "If I had foreseen that I should have to give up a
+government position for a commercial one, I should certainly have
+learned English in preference to German."
+
+"It is never too late to learn," replied his uncle in a tone that
+brooked no further parley.
+
+The quick words on both sides had been spoken in evident displeasure.
+
+Perrine had made herself as small as possible. She had not dared move,
+but Casimir did not even turn his eyes in her direction, and almost at
+once he went out, giving his arm to his uncle. Then she was able to give
+free rein to her thoughts. How severe M. Vulfran was with his nephew,
+but what a disagreeable, horrid youth was that nephew! If they had any
+affection for one another it certainly was not apparent. Why was it? Why
+wasn't this nephew kind to his old uncle, who was blind and broken down
+with sorrow? And why was the old man so hard with a nephew who was
+taking the place of his own son?
+
+While she was pondering these questions M. Vulfran returned, this time
+being led in by the manager, who, having placed him in a seat, began to
+explain to him the work that the machinists were now engaged upon.
+
+Some minutes later she heard M. Benoist calling: "Aurelie! Aurelie!"
+
+She did not move, for she had forgotten that Aurelie was the name that
+she had given to herself.
+
+The third time he called: "Aurelie!"
+
+She jumped up with a start as she realized that that was the name by
+which they knew her. She hurried over to them.
+
+"Are you deaf?" demanded Monsieur Benoist.
+
+"No, sir; I was listening to the machinists."
+
+"You can leave me now," said M. Vulfran to his manager.
+
+When the manager had gone he turned to Perrine, who had remained
+standing before him.
+
+"Can you read, my child?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"English as well as French?"
+
+"Yes, both the same."
+
+"But while reading English can you turn it into French?"
+
+"When the phrases are not too difficult; yes, sir."
+
+"The daily news from the papers, do you think you could do that?"
+
+"I have never tried that, because if I read an English paper there is no
+need for me to translate it for myself, because I understand what it
+says."
+
+"Well, we will try. Tell the machinists that when they want you they can
+call you, and then come and read from an English paper some articles
+that I wish to have read to me in French. Go and tell the men and then
+come back and sit down here beside me."
+
+When she had done what she was told, she sat down beside M. Vulfran and
+took the newspaper that he handed her, "The Dundee News."
+
+"What shall I read?" she asked as she unfolded it.
+
+"Look for the commercial column."
+
+The long black and white columns bewildered poor little Perrine. She was
+so nervous and her hands trembled so she wondered if she would ever be
+able to accomplish what she was asked to do. She gazed from the top of
+one page to the bottom of another, and still could not find what she was
+seeking. She began to fear that her employer would get impatient with
+her for being so slow and awkward.
+
+But instead of getting impatient he told her to take her time. With that
+keen hearing so subtle with the blind, he had divined what a state of
+emotion she was in. He could tell that from the rustling of the newspaper
+she held in her hand.
+
+"We have plenty of time," he said, encouragingly; "besides I don't
+suppose you have ever read a trade journal before."
+
+"No, sir; I have not," she replied.
+
+She continued to scan the sheets, then suddenly she gave a little cry of
+pleasure.
+
+"Have you found it?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"Now look for these words," he said in English: "Linen, Hemp, Jute,
+Sacks, Twine."
+
+"But, sir, you know English," she cried, involuntarily.
+
+"Five or six words of the trade; that is all, unfortunately," he
+replied.
+
+When she had found what he required she commenced her translation, but
+she was so hopelessly slow, hesitating and confused, that in a few
+moments the beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and hands
+from sheer agony, despite the fact that from time to time he encouraged
+her.
+
+"That will do. I understand that ... go on," he said.
+
+And she continued, raising her voice when the hammering blows from the
+workmen became too loud.
+
+At last she came to the end of the column.
+
+"Now see if there is any news from Calcutta," said her employer.
+
+She scanned the sheets again.
+
+"Yes, here it is," she said, after a moment; "From our special
+correspondent."
+
+"That's it. Read!"
+
+"The news that we are receiving from Dacca...."
+
+Her voice shook so as she said this name that Monsieur Vulfran's
+attention was attracted.
+
+"What's the matter?" he said. "Why are you trembling?"
+
+"I don't know," she said, timidly; "perhaps I am nervous."
+
+"I told you not to mind," he chided. "You are doing very much better
+than I thought."
+
+She read the cables from Dacca which mentioned a gathering of jute
+along the shores of the Brahmaputra. Then he told her to look and see if
+there was a cable from Saint Helena.
+
+Her eyes ran up and down the columns until the words "Saint Helena"
+caught her eye.
+
+"On the 23rd, the English steamer 'Alma' sailed from Calcutta for
+Dundee; on the 24th, the Norwegian steamer 'Grundloven' sailed from
+Naraingaudj for Boulogne."
+
+He appeared satisfied.
+
+"That is very good," he said. "I am quite pleased with you."
+
+She wanted to reply, but afraid that her voice would betray her joy, she
+kept silent.
+
+"I can see that until poor Bendit is better I can make good use of you,"
+he continued.
+
+After receiving an account of the work that the men had done, and
+telling them to be as quick as possible, he told Perrine to lead him to
+the manager's office.
+
+"Have I to give you my hand?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"Why, yes, my child," he replied. "How do you think you can guide me
+otherwise? And warn me when there is anything in the way, and above all
+don't be absent-minded."
+
+"Oh, I assure you, sir, you can place every confidence in me," she said
+with emotion.
+
+"You see that I already have confidence," he replied.
+
+She took him gently by the left hand, whilst with his right he held his
+cane, feeling ahead of him cautiously as he went forward.
+
+They had scarcely left the workshops before they came to the railway
+tracks, and she thought that she ought to warn him.
+
+"Here are the rails, just here," she said. "Please...."
+
+But he interrupted her.
+
+"That you need not tell me," he said. "I know every bit of the ground
+round about the works; my head knows it and my feet know it, but it's
+the unexpected obstacles that we might find on the road that you must
+tell me about, something that's in the path that should not be. All the
+ground I know, thoroughly."
+
+It was not only his grounds that he knew, but he knew his people also.
+When he went through the yards his men greeted him. They not only took
+their hats off as though he saw them, but they said his name.
+
+"Good morning, sir!... Good morning, Monsieur Vulfran!"
+
+And to a great number he was able to reply by their names: "Good
+morning, Jacque!" ... "Good morning, Pascal!" He knew the voices of all
+those who had long been in his employ. When he hesitated, which was
+rarely, for he knew almost all, he would stop and say: "It's you, is it
+not?" mentioning the speaker's name.
+
+If he made a mistake he explained why he had done so.
+
+Walking thus, it was a slow walk from the factories to the offices. She
+led him to his armchair; then he dismissed her.
+
+"Until tomorrow," he said; "I shall want you then."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HARD QUESTIONS
+
+
+The next morning, at the same hour as on the previous day, Monsieur
+Paindavoine entered the workshops, guided by the manager. Perrine wanted
+to go and meet him, but she could not at this moment as she was busy
+transmitting orders from the chief machinist to the men who were working
+for him--masons, carpenters, smiths, mechanics. Clearly and without
+repetition, she explained to each one what orders were given to him;
+then she interpreted for the chief machinist the questions or objections
+which the French workmen desired to address to him.
+
+Perrine's grandfather had drawn near. The voices stopped as the tap of
+his cane announced his approach, but he made a sign for them to continue
+the same as though he were not there.
+
+And while Perrine, obeying him, went on talking with the men, he said
+quietly to the manager, though not low enough but that Perrine heard:
+
+"Do you know, that little girl would make a fine engineer!"
+
+"Yes," said the manager; "it's astonishing how decided and confident she
+is with the men."
+
+"Yes, and she can do something else. Yesterday she translated the
+'Dundee News' more intelligently than Bendit. And it was the first time
+that she had read trade journal stuff."
+
+"Does anyone know who her parents were?" asked the manager.
+
+"Perhaps Talouel does; I do not," said Vulfran.
+
+"She is in a very miserable and pitiful condition," said the manager.
+
+"I gave her five francs for her food and lodging."
+
+"I am speaking of her clothes. Her waist is worn to threads; I have never
+seen such a skirt on anybody but a beggar, and she certainly must have made
+the shoes she is wearing herself."
+
+"And her face, what is she like, Benoist?"
+
+"Very intelligent and very pretty."
+
+"Hard looking or any signs of vice?"
+
+"No; quite the contrary. She has a very frank, honest look. She has
+great eyes that look as though they could pierce a wall, and yet at the
+same time they have a soft, trusting look."
+
+"Where in the world does she come from?"
+
+"Not from these parts, that's a sure thing."
+
+"She told me that her mother was English."
+
+"And yet she does not look English. She seems to belong to quite another
+race, but she is very pretty; even with the old rags that she is wearing
+the girl seems to have a strange sort of beauty. She must have a strong
+character or some power, or why is it that these workmen pay such attention
+to such a poor little ragged thing?"
+
+And as Benoist never missed a chance to flatter his employer, he added:
+"Undoubtedly without having even seen her you have guessed all that I
+have told you."
+
+"Her accent struck me as being very cultured," replied Monsieur Vulfran.
+
+Although Perrine had not heard all that the two men had said, she had
+caught a few words, which had thrown her into a state of great agitation.
+She tried to recover her self-control, for it would never do to listen to
+what was being said behind her when the machinists and workmen were talking
+to her at the same time. What would her employer think if in giving her
+explanations in French he saw that she had not been paying attention to her
+task.
+
+However, everything was explained to them in a manner satisfactory to
+both sides. When she had finished, Monsieur Vulfran called to her:
+"Aurelie!"
+
+This time she took care to reply quickly to the name which in the future
+was to be hers.
+
+As on the previous day, he made her sit down beside him and gave her a
+paper to translate for him into French. This time it was not the "Dundee
+News," but the "Dundee Trade Report Association," which is an official
+bulletin published on the commerce of jute. So without having to search for
+any particular article, she read it to him from beginning to end. Then,
+when the reading was over, as before, he asked her to lead him through the
+grounds, but this time he began to question her about herself.
+
+"You told me that you had lost your mother. How long ago was that?" he
+asked.
+
+"Five weeks," she replied.
+
+"In Paris?"
+
+"Yes, in Paris."
+
+"And your father?"
+
+"Father died six months before mother," she said in a low voice.
+
+As he held her hand in his he could feel it tremble, and he knew what
+anguish she felt as he evoked the memory of her dead parents, but he did
+not change the subject; he gently continued to question her.
+
+"What did your parents do?"
+
+"We sold things," she replied.
+
+"In Paris? Round about Paris?"
+
+"We traveled; we had a wagon and we were sometimes in one part of the
+country, sometimes in another."
+
+"And when your mother died you left Paris?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because mother made me promise not to stay in Paris after she had gone,
+but to go North where my father's people live."
+
+"Then why did you come here?"
+
+"When my mother died we had to sell our wagon and our donkey and the few
+things we had, and all this money was spent during her illness. When I
+left the cemetery after she was buried all the money I had was five
+francs thirty-five centimes, which was not enough for me to take the
+train. So I decided to make the journey on foot."
+
+Monsieur Vulfran's fingers tightened over hers. She did not understand
+this movement.
+
+"Oh, forgive me; I am boring you," she said. "I am telling you things
+perhaps that are of no interest."
+
+"You are not boring me, Aurelie," said the blind man. "On the contrary,
+I am pleased to know, what an honest little girl you are. I like people
+who have courage, will, and determination, and who do not easily give
+up. If I like finding such qualities in men, how much more pleasure does
+it give me to find them in a girl of your age! So ... you started with
+five francs thirty-five centimes in your pocket?..."
+
+"A knife, a piece of soap," continued little Perrine, "a thimble, two
+needles, some thread and a map of the roads, that was all."
+
+"Could you understand the map?"
+
+"Yes, I had to know, because we used to travel all over the country.
+That was the only thing that I kept of our belongings."
+
+The blind man stopped his little guide.
+
+"Isn't there a big tree here on the left?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, with a seat all around it," she replied.
+
+"Come along then; we'll be better sitting down."
+
+When they were seated she went on with her story. She had no occasion to
+shorten it, for she saw that her employer was greatly interested.
+
+"You never thought of begging?" he asked, when she came to the time when
+she had left the woods after being overtaken by the terrible storm.
+
+"No, sir; never."
+
+"But what did you count upon when you saw that you could not get any
+work?"
+
+"I didn't count on anything. I thought that if I kept on as long as I
+had the strength I might find something. It was only when I was so
+hungry and so tired that I had to give up. If I had dropped one hour
+sooner all would have been over."
+
+Then she told him how her donkey, licking her face, had brought her back
+to consciousness, and how the ragpicker had saved her from starvation.
+Then passing quickly over the days she had spent with La Rouquerie, she
+came to the day when she had made Rosalie's acquaintance.
+
+"And Rosalie told me," she said, "that anyone who wants work can get it
+in your factories. I came and they employed me at once."
+
+"When are you going on to your relations?"
+
+Perrine was embarrassed. She did not expect this question.
+
+"I am not going any further," she replied, after a moment's hesitation.
+"I don't know if they want me, for they were angry with father. I was
+going to try and be near them because I have no one else, but I don't
+know if I shall be welcomed. Now that I have found work, it seems to me
+that it would be better for me to stay here. What will become of me if
+they turn me away? I know I shall not starve here, and I am too afraid
+to go on the road again. I shall not let them know that I am here unless
+some piece of luck comes my way."
+
+"Didn't your relatives ever try to find out about you?" asked M.
+Vulfran.
+
+"No, never," replied Perrine.
+
+"Well, then, perhaps you are right," he said. "Yet if you don't like to
+take a chance and go and see them, why don't you write them a letter?
+They may not be able to give you a home, so then you could stay here
+where you'd be sure of earning your living. On the other hand, they may
+be very glad to have you, and you would have love and protection, which
+you would not have here. You've learned already that life is very hard
+for a young girl of your age, and in your position ... and very sad."
+
+"Yes, sir; I know it is very sad," said little Perrine, lifting her
+beautiful eyes to the sightless eyes of her grandfather. "Every day I
+think how sad it is, and I know if they would hold out their arms to
+welcome me I would run into them so quickly! But suppose they were just
+as cold and hard to me as they were with my father...."
+
+"Had these relations any serious cause to be angry with your father? Did
+he do anything very bad?"
+
+"I cannot think," said little Perrine, "that my father, who was always so
+good and kind, and who loved me and mother so much, could have ever been
+bad. He could not have done anything very wrong, and yet his people must
+have had, in their opinion, serious reasons for being angry with him, it
+seems to me."
+
+"Yes, evidently," said the blind man. "But what they have against him
+they could not hold against you. The sins of the father should not fall
+upon the children."
+
+"If that could be true!"
+
+She said these words in a voice that trembled so with emotion that the
+blind man was surprised at the depths of this little girl's feelings.
+
+"You see," he said, "how in the depths of your heart how much you want
+their love and affection."
+
+"Yes, but how I dread being turned away," she replied.
+
+"But why should you be?" he asked. "Have your grandparents any other
+children beside your father?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why shouldn't they be glad that you should come and take the place of
+the son they have lost? You don't know what it is to be alone in the
+world."
+
+"Yes, I do ... I know only too well what it is," replied Perrine.
+
+"Youth who has a future ahead is not like old age, which has nothing
+before it but Death."
+
+She looked at him. She did not take her eyes from his face, for he could
+not see her. What did his words mean? From the expression of his face
+little Perrine tried to read the inmost thoughts that stirred this old
+man's heart.
+
+"Well," he said, after waiting a moment, "what do you think you will
+do?"
+
+"I hesitate because I feel so bad about it," she said. "If I could only
+believe that they would be glad to have me and would not turn me
+away...."
+
+"You know nothing of life, poor little girl," said the old gentleman.
+"Age should not be alone any more than youth."
+
+"Do you think all old people feel like that?" asked Perrine.
+
+"They may not think that it is so, but they feel it."
+
+"You think so?" she said, trembling, her eyes still fixed on his face.
+
+He did not reply directly, but speaking softly as though to himself, he
+said:
+
+"Yes, yes; they feel it...."
+
+Then getting up from his seat abruptly, as though to drive away thoughts
+that made him feel sad, he said in a tone of authority: "Come across to
+the offices. I wish to go there."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+SECRETARY TO M. VULFRAN
+
+
+When would Fabry, the engineer, return? That was the question that Perrine
+anxiously asked herself, for on that day her role of interpreter to the
+English machinists would terminate.
+
+That of translator of newspaper articles to M. Vulfran, would that continue
+until M. Bendit had recovered from his illness? Here was another question
+that made her even still more anxious.
+
+It was on Thursday, when she reached the factories with the two machinists,
+that she found Monsieur Fabry in the workshop busy inspecting the work that
+had already been done. Discreetly she waited at a distance, not taking part
+in any of the explanations that were being made, but all the same the chief
+machinist drew her into the conversation.
+
+"Without this little girl's help," he said, "we should have stood here
+waiting with our arms folded."
+
+Monsieur Fabry then looked at her, but he said nothing, and she on her
+side did not dare ask him what she had to do now, whether she was to
+stay at Saint-Pipoy or return to Maraucourt.
+
+She stood there undecided, thinking that as it was M. Vulfran who had
+sent for her, it would be he who would send her away or keep her.
+
+He came at his usual hour, led by the manager, who gave him an account
+of the orders that the engineer had given and the observations that he
+had made. But it appeared that he was not completely satisfied.
+
+"It is a pity that the little girl is not here," he said in annoyance.
+
+"But she is here," replied the manager, making a sign to Perrine to
+approach.
+
+"Why was it you did not go back to Maraucourt, girl?" he asked.
+
+"I thought that I ought not to leave here until you told me to go back,"
+she replied.
+
+"That was quite right," he said. "You must be here waiting for me when I
+come...."
+
+He stopped for a second, then went on: "And I shall also need you at
+Maraucourt. You can go back this evening, and tomorrow be at the office.
+I will tell you what you will have to do."
+
+When she had interpreted the orders which he wished to give to the
+machinists, he left, and that day she was not required to read the
+newspapers.
+
+But what did that matter? Hadn't her grandfather said that on the morrow he
+would need her at Maraucourt?
+
+"I shall need you at Maraucourt!" She kept repeating these words over and
+over again as she tramped along the roads over which William had driven her
+in the trap.
+
+How was she going to be employed? She imagined all sorts of ways, but she
+could not feel certain of anything, except that she was not to be sent back
+to push trucks. That was a sure thing; for the rest she would have to wait.
+But she need not wait in a state of feverish anxiety, for from her
+grandfather's manner she might hope for the best. If she, a poor little
+girl, could only have enough wisdom to follow the course that her mother
+had mapped out for her before dying, slowly and carefully, without trying
+to hasten events, her life, which she held in her own hands, would be what
+she herself made it. She must remember this always, in everything she said,
+every time she had to make a resolution, every time she took a step
+forward, and each time she took this step she must take it without asking
+advice of anyone.
+
+On her way back to Maraucourt she turned all this over in her little
+head. She walked slowly, stopping when she wanted to pick a flower that
+grew beneath the hedge, or when, in looking over a fence, she could see
+a pretty one that seemed to be beckoning to her from the meadow. Now and
+again she got rather excited; then she would quicken her step; then she
+slowed up again, telling herself that there was no occasion for her to
+hurry. Here was one thing she had to do--she must make it a rule, make
+it a habit, not to give way to an impulse. Oh, she would have to be very
+wise. Her pretty face was very grave as she walked along, her hands full
+of lovely wild flowers.
+
+She found her island the same as she had left it, each thing in its place.
+The birds had even shown respect for the berries beneath the willow tree
+which had ripened in her absence. Here was something for her supper. She
+had not counted upon having berries.
+
+She had returned at an earlier hour than when she had left the factory,
+so she did not feel inclined to go to bed as soon as her supper was
+over. She sat by the pond in the quiet of the evening, watching the
+night slowly fall.
+
+Although she had been away only a short time, something seemed to have
+occurred to disturb the quietness of her little shelter. In the fields
+there was no longer the solemn silence of the night which had struck her on
+the first days that she had installed herself on the island. Previously,
+all she could hear in the entire valley, on the pond, in the big trees and
+the foliage, was the mysterious rustling of the birds as they returned to
+the nests for the night. Now the silence was disturbed by all kinds of
+noises--the blow of the forge, the grind of the axle, the swish of a whip,
+and the murmur of voices.
+
+As she had tramped along the roads from Saint-Pipoy she had noticed that
+the harvest had commenced in the fields that were most exposed, and soon
+the mowers would come as far as her little nook, which was shaded by the
+big trees.
+
+She would certainly have to leave her tiny home; it would not be possible
+for her to live there longer. Whether she had to leave on account of the
+harvesters or the bird catchers, it was the same thing, just a matter of
+days.
+
+Although for the last few days she had got used to having sheets on her
+bed, and a room with a window, and closed doors, she slept that night on
+her bed of ferns as though she had never left it, and it was only when
+the sun rose in the heavens that she awoke.
+
+When she reached the factory, instead of following her companions to
+where the trucks stood, she made her way to the general offices,
+wondering what she should do--go in, or wait outside.
+
+She decided to do the latter. If they saw her standing outside the
+doors, someone would see her and call her in.
+
+She waited there for almost an hour. Finally she saw Talouel, who asked
+her roughly what she was doing there.
+
+"Monsieur Vulfran told me to come this morning to the office to see
+him," she said.
+
+"Outside there, is not the office," he said.
+
+"I was waiting to be called in," she replied.
+
+"Come up then."
+
+She went up the steps, following him in.
+
+"What did you do at Saint-Pipoy?" he asked, turning to look at her.
+
+She told him in what capacity M. Vulfran had employed her.
+
+"Monsieur Fabry then had been messing up things?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What do you mean--you don't know? Are you a silly?"
+
+"Maybe I am."
+
+"You're not, and you know it; and if you don't reply it's because you
+don't want to. Don't forget who is talking to you; do you know what I am
+here?"
+
+"Yes, the foreman."
+
+"That means the master. And as your master you do as I tell you. I am
+going to know all. Those who don't obey I fire! Remember that!"
+
+This was indeed the man whom she had heard the factory girls talking
+about when she had slept in that terrible room at Mother Francoise's.
+The tyrant who wanted to be everything in the works, not only at
+Maraucourt, but at Saint-Pipoy, at Bacourt, at Flexelles, everywhere,
+and who would employ any means to uphold his authority, even disputing
+it with that of Monsieur Vulfran's.
+
+"I ask you what Monsieur Fabry has been doing?" he asked, lowering his
+voice.
+
+"I cannot tell you because I do not know myself. But I can tell you what
+observations Monsieur Vulfran had me interpret for the machinists."
+
+She repeated what she had had to tell the men without omitting a single
+thing.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"That is all."
+
+"Did Monsieur Vulfran make you translate his letters?"
+
+"No, he did not. I only read some articles from the 'Dundee News' and a
+little paper all through; it was called the 'Dundee Trades Report
+Association.'"
+
+"You know if you don't tell me the truth, all the truth, I'll get it
+pretty quick, and then ... Ouste! off you go."
+
+"Why should I not speak the truth?" asked Perrine.
+
+"It's up to you to do so," he retorted. "I've warned you ... remember."
+
+"I'll remember," said Perrine, "I assure you."
+
+"Very good. Now go and sit down on that bench over there. If the boss
+really needs you he'll remember that he told you to come here this
+morning. He is busy talking to some of his men now."
+
+She sat on the bench for almost an hour, not daring to move so long as
+Talouel was near. What a dreadful man! How afraid she was of him! But it
+would never do to let him see that she was afraid. He wanted her to spy
+on her employer, and then tell him what was in the letters that she
+translated for him!
+
+This indeed might well scare her, yet there was something to be pleased
+about. Talouel evidently thought that she would have the letters to
+translate; that meant that her grandfather would have her with him all
+the time that M. Bendit was ill.
+
+While she sat there waiting she caught sight of William several times. When
+he was not fulfilling the duties of coachman he acted as useful man to
+M. Vulfran. Each time that he appeared on the scene Perrine thought that he
+had come to fetch her, but he passed without saying a word to her. He
+seemed always in a hurry.
+
+Finally some workingmen came out of M. Vulfran's office with a very
+dissatisfied expression on their faces. Then William came and beckoned to
+her and showed her into M. Vulfran's office. She found her grandfather
+seated at a large table covered with ledgers, at the side of which were
+paper weights stamped with large letters in relief. In this way the blind
+man was able to find what his eyes could not see.
+
+Without announcing her, William had pushed Perrine inside the room and
+closed the door after her. She waited a moment, then she thought that she
+had better let M. Vulfran know that she was there.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "I am here ... Aurelie."
+
+"Yes," he said, "I recognized your step. Come nearer and listen to me. I am
+interested in you. You have told me your troubles and I think you have been
+very courageous. From the translations that you have made for me, and the
+manner in which you have acted as interpreter for the machinists, I see
+that you are intelligent. Now that I am blind, I need someone to see for
+me, to tell me about things I wish to know, and also about things that
+strike them also. I had hoped that William would have been able to do this
+for me, but unfortunately he drinks too much and I can't keep him.
+
+"Now, would you like to take the position that he has been unable to
+hold? To commence with, you will have ninety francs a month. If I am
+pleased with you I may do more for you."
+
+Overwhelmed with joy, Perrine stood before the blind man unable to say a
+word.
+
+"Why don't you speak?" he said at last.
+
+"I can't ... I don't know what to say ... to thank you," she said. Her
+voice broke. "I feel so...."
+
+"Yes, yes," he said. "I know how you feel. Your voice tells me that. I
+am pleased. That is as good as a promise that you will do all you can to
+give me satisfaction. Now let us change the subject. Have you written to
+your grandparents?"
+
+"No," said Perrine, hesitatingly; "I ... I did not have any paper."
+
+"Oh, very well. You will be able to find all you need in Monsieur Bendit's
+office. When you write tell them exactly what position you occupy in my
+employ. If they have anything better to offer you, they will send for you;
+if not, they will let you remain here."
+
+"Oh, certainly ... I am sure I shall stay...."
+
+"Yes, I think so. I think it will be best for you. As you will be in the
+offices, you will be in communication with my employes; you can take my
+orders to them, and you will also have to go out with me, so in that
+case you cannot wear your factory clothes, which Monsieur Benoist tells
+me are rather shabby."
+
+"They are in rags," said Perrine; "but I assure you, sir, it is not
+because I am lazy or that I don't care...."
+
+"I am sure of that," replied M. Vulfran. "Now, as all that will be changed,
+you go to the cashier in the counting house, and he will give you a money
+order. You can go then to Madame Lachaise in the village and get some
+clothes, some linen, hats and shoes; what you need...."
+
+Perrine was listening as though it were not an old blind man with a
+grave face that was speaking, but a beautiful fairy who was holding over
+her her magic wand.
+
+She was silent. Then his voice recalled her to the reality.
+
+"You are free to choose what you like, but bear in mind the choice you
+make will guide me in acquiring a knowledge of your character. Now you
+can go and see about your things at once. I shall not need you until
+tomorrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SUSPICION AND CONFIDENCE
+
+
+She went to the counting house, and after the chief cashier and his
+clerks had eyed her from head to foot, she was handed the order which M.
+Vulfran had said was to be given to her. She left the factory wondering
+where she would find Madame Lachaise's shop.
+
+She hoped that it was the woman who had sold her the calico, because as
+she knew her already, it would be less embarrassing to ask her advice as
+to what she should buy, than it would be to ask a perfect stranger. And
+so much hung on the choice she would make; her anxiety increased as she
+thought of her employer's last words: "the choice you make will guide me
+in acquiring a knowledge of your character."
+
+She did not need this warning to keep her from making extravagant
+purchases, but then on the other hand, what she thought would be the
+right things for herself, would her employer consider suitable? In her
+fancy she had worn beautiful clothes, and when she was quite a little
+girl she had been very proud to display her pretty things, but of
+course dresses on this order would not be fitting for her now. The
+simplest that she could find would be better.
+
+Who would have thought that the unexpected present of new clothes could
+have filled her with so much anxiety and embarrassment. She knew that
+she ought to be filled with joy and yet here she was greatly worried and
+hesitating.
+
+Just near the church she found Mme. Lachaise's shop. It was by far the best
+shop in Maraucourt. In the window there was a fine display of materials,
+ribbons, lingerie, hats, jewels, perfumes, which aroused the envy and
+tempted the greed of all the frivolous girls throughout the surrounding
+villages. It was here where they spent their small earnings, the same as
+their fathers and husbands spent theirs at the taverns.
+
+When Perrine saw this display of finery she was still more perplexed and
+embarrassed. She entered the shop and stood in the middle of the floor,
+for neither the mistress of the establishment nor the milliners who were
+working behind the counter seemed to think that the ragged little girl
+required any attention. Finally Perrine decided to hold out the envelope
+containing the order that she held in her hand.
+
+"What is it you want, little girl?" demanded Madame Lachaise.
+
+As she still held out the envelope the mistress of the store caught
+sight of the words Maraucourt Factories, Vulfran Paindavoine in one of
+the corners. The expression of her face changed at once, her smile was
+very pleasant now.
+
+"What do you wish, Mademoiselle?" she asked, leaving her desk and drawing
+forward a chair for Perrine. Perrine told her that she wanted a dress,
+some underlinen, a pair of shoes and a hat.
+
+"We can supply you with all those," said Madame Lachaise, "and with
+goods of the very best quality. Would you like to commence with the
+dress? Yes. Very well then, I will show you some materials."
+
+But it was not materials that Perrine wished to see; she wanted a
+ready-made dress. Something that she could put on at once, or at least
+something that would be ready for her to wear the next day when she went
+out with Monsieur Paindavoine.
+
+"Ah, you are going out with Monsieur Vulfran?" said Madame Lachaise
+quickly; her curiosity was strung to its highest pitch at this
+statement. She wondered what the all powerful master of Maraucourt could
+have to do with this ragged little girl and she did not hesitate to ask.
+
+But instead of replying to her question Perrine continued to explain
+that she wanted to see some black dresses as she was in mourning.
+
+"You want a dress so as to be able to attend a funeral then?"
+
+"No, it is not for a funeral," said Perrine.
+
+"Well, you understand, Mademoiselle, if I know what you require the
+dress for I shall be able to know what style, material, and price it
+should be.
+
+"I want the plainest style," said little Perrine timidly, "and the
+lightest but best wearing material, and the lowest price."
+
+"Very good, very good," replied Madame Lachaise, "they will show you
+something. Virginie, attend to Mademoiselle."
+
+How her tone had changed! her manner also. With great dignity Madame
+Lachaise went back to her seat at the desk, disdaining to busy herself
+with a customer who had such small desires. She was probably one of the
+servant's daughters, for whom Monsieur Vulfran was going to buy a
+mourning outfit; but which servant?
+
+However as Virginie brought forward a cashmere dress trimmed with
+passementerie and jet, she thought fit to interfere.
+
+"No, no, not that," she said. "That would be beyond the price. Show her
+that black challis dress with the little dots. The skirt will be a
+trifle too long and the waist too large, but it can easily be made to
+fit her, besides we have nothing else in black."
+
+Here was a reason that dispensed with all others, but even though it was
+too large, Perrine found the skirt and waist that went with it very
+pretty, and the saleslady assured her that with a little alteration is
+would suit her beautifully, and of course she had to believe her.
+
+The choice for the stockings and undergarments was easier because she
+wanted the least expensive, but when she stated that she only wanted to
+purchase two pairs of stockings and two chemises, Mlle. Virginie became
+just as disdainful as her employer, and it was as though she was
+conferring a favor that she condescended to try some shoes on Perrine,
+and the black straw hat which completed the wardrobe of this little
+simpleton.
+
+Could anyone believe that a girl would be such an idiot! She had been
+given an order to buy what she wanted and she asked for two pairs of
+stockings and two chemises. And when Perrine asked for some
+handkerchiefs, which for a long time had been the object of her desires,
+this new purchase, which was limited to three handkerchiefs, did not
+help to change the shopkeeper's or the saleslady's contempt for her.
+
+"She's nothing at all," they murmured.
+
+"And now shall we send you these things?" asked Mme. Lachaise.
+
+"No, thank you," said Perrine, "I will call this evening and fetch them
+when the alterations are made."
+
+"Well, then, don't come before eight o'clock or after nine," she was
+told.
+
+Perrine had a very good reason for not wishing to have the things sent
+to her. She was not sure where she was going to sleep that night. Her
+little island was not to be thought of. Those who possess nothing can
+dispense with doors and locks, but when one has riches ... for despite
+the condescension of the shopkeeper and her assistant, these were riches
+to Perrine and needed to be guarded. So that night she would have to
+take a lodging and quite naturally she thought of going to Rosalie's
+grandmother. When she left Madame Lachaise's shop, she went on her way
+to Mother Francoise's to see if she could accommodate her and give her
+what she desired; that was a tiny little room that would not cost much.
+
+As she reached the gate she met Rosalie coming out, walking quickly.
+
+"You're going out?" cried Perrine.
+
+"Yes, and you ... so you are free then?"
+
+In a few hurried words they explained.
+
+Rosalie, who was going on an important errand to Picquigny, could not
+return to her grandmother's at once, as she would have liked, so as to
+make the best arrangements that she could for Perrine; but as Perrine
+had nothing to do for that day, why shouldn't she go with her to
+Picquigny; and they would come back together; it would be a pleasure
+trip then.
+
+They went off gaily, and Rosalie accomplished her errand quickly, then
+their pleasure trip commenced. They walked through the fields, chatting
+and laughing, picked flowers, then rested in the heat of the day under
+the shadows of the great trees. It was not until night that they arrived
+back in Maraucourt. Not until Rosalie reached her grandmother's gate did
+she realize what time it was.
+
+"What will Aunt Zenobie say?" she said half afraid.
+
+"Oh well...." began Perrine.
+
+"Oh well, I don't care," said Rosalie defiantly, "I've enjoyed myself
+... and you?"
+
+"Well, if you who have people to talk to every day have enjoyed
+yourself, how much more have I who never have anybody to talk to," said
+Perrine ruefully.
+
+"I've had a lovely time," she sighed.
+
+"Well, then we don't care what anybody says," said Rosalie bravely.
+
+Fortunately, Aunt Zenobie was busy waiting on the boarders, so the
+arrangements for the room was made with Mother Francoise, who did not
+drive too hard a bargain and that was done quickly and promptly. Fifty
+francs a month for two meals a day; twelve francs for a little room
+decorated with a little mirror, a window, and a dressing table.
+
+At eight o'clock Perrine dined alone in the general dining room, a table
+napkin on her lap. At eight-thirty she went to Madame Lachaise's
+establishment to fetch her dress and other things which were quite ready
+for her. At nine o'clock, in her tiny room, the door of which she
+locked, she went to bed, a little worried, a little excited, a little
+hesitating, but, in her heart of hearts full of hope.
+
+Now we should see.
+
+What she did see the next morning when she was called into M. Vulfran's
+office after he had given his orders to his principal employes, was such
+a severe expression on his face that she was thoroughly disconcerted;
+although the eyes that turned towards her as she entered his room were
+devoid of look, she could not mistake the expression on this face that
+she had studied so much.
+
+Certainly it was not the kind look of a benefactor, but quite the
+reverse: it was an expression of displeasure and anger that she saw.
+
+What had she done wrong that he should be angry; with her?
+
+She put this question to herself but she could find no reply to it;
+perhaps she had spent too much at Madame Lachaise's and her employer had
+judged her character from these purchases. And in her selection she had
+tried to be so modest and economical. What should she have bought then?
+or rather what should she not have bought?
+
+But she had no more time to wonder, for her employer was speaking to her
+in a severe tone:
+
+"Why did you not tell me the truth?" he said.
+
+"In what have I not told the truth?" she asked in a frightened voice.
+
+"In regard to your conduct since you came to this village."
+
+"But I assure you, Monsieur, I have told you the truth."
+
+"You told me that you lodged at Mother Francoise's house. And when you
+left there where did you go? I may as well tell you that yesterday
+Zenobie, that is Francoise's daughter, was asked to give some
+information, some references of you, and she said that you only spent
+one night in her mother's house, then you disappeared, and no one knew
+what you did from that night until now."
+
+Perrine had listened to the commencement of this cross examination in
+afright, but as Monsieur Vulfran went on she grew braver.
+
+"There is someone who knows what I did after I left the room I used at
+Mother Francoise's," she said quietly.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Rosalie, her granddaughter, knows. She will tell you that what I am now
+going to tell you, sir, is the truth. That is, if you think my doings
+are worth knowing about."
+
+"The position that you are to hold in my service demands that I know
+what you are," said Monsieur Vulfran.
+
+"Well, Monsieur, I will tell you," said little Perrine. "When you know
+you can send for Rosalie and question her without me seeing her, and
+then you will have the proof that I have not deceived you."
+
+"Yes, that can be done," he said in a softened voice, "now go on...."
+
+She told her story, dwelling on the horror of that night in that
+miserable room, her disgust, how she was almost suffocated, and how she
+crept outside at the break of dawn too sick to stay in that terrible
+garret one moment longer.
+
+"Cannot you bear what the other girls could?" asked her employer.
+
+"The others perhaps have not lived in the open air as I have," said
+Perrine, her beautiful eyes fixed on her grandfather's face. "I assure
+you I am not hard to please. We were so poor that we endured great
+misery. But I could not stay in that room. I should have died, and I
+don't think it was wrong of me to try to escape death. I could not live
+if I had to sleep there."
+
+"Why! can that room be so unhealthy, so unwholesome as that?" mused
+Monsieur Vulfran.
+
+"Oh, sir," cried Perrine, "if you could see it you would never permit
+your work girls to live there, never, never."
+
+"Go on with your story," he said abruptly.
+
+She told him how she had discovered the tiny island and how the idea had
+come to her to take possession of the cabin.
+
+"You were not afraid?" he asked.
+
+"I am not accustomed to being afraid," she said, with a wan little smile
+flitting across her beautiful face.
+
+"You are speaking of that cabin in the valley there a little to the side
+of the road to Saint-Pipoy, on the left, are you not?" asked Monsieur
+Vulfran.
+
+"Yes, Monsieur."
+
+"That belongs to me and my nephews use it. Was it there that you slept?"
+
+"I not only slept there, but I worked there and I ate there, and I even
+gave a dinner to Rosalie, and she can tell you about it," said little
+Perrine eagerly, for now that she had told him her story she wanted him to
+know everything. "I did not leave the cabin until you sent for me to go to
+Saint-Pipoy, and then you told me to stay there so as to be on hand to
+interpret for the machinists. And now tonight I have taken a lodging again
+at Mother Francoise's, but now I can pay for a room all to myself."
+
+"Were you rich then, that you were able to invite a friend to dinner?"
+asked the blind man.
+
+"If I only dare tell you," said Perrine timidly.
+
+"You can tell me everything," said the blind man.
+
+"I may take up your time just to tell you a story about two little
+girls?" asked little Perrine.
+
+"Now that I cannot use my time as I should like," said the blind man
+sadly, "it is often very long, very long ... and empty."
+
+A shade passed over her grandfather's face. He had so much; there were men
+who envied him--and yet how sad and barren was his life. When he said that
+his days were "empty" Perrine's heart went out to him. She also, since the
+death of her father and mother, knew what it was for the days to be long
+and empty, nothing to fill them but the anxiety, the fatigue, and the
+misery of the moment. No one to share them with you, none to uphold you, or
+cheer you. He had not known bodily fatigue, privations and poverty. But
+they are not the only trials to be borne, there are other sorrows in this
+world from which one suffers. And it was those other sorrows that had made
+him say those few words in such a sad, sad tone; the memory of which made
+this old blind man bend his head while the tears sprang into his sightless
+eyes. But no tears fell. Perrine's eyes had not left his face; if she had
+seen that her story did not interest him, she would have stopped at once,
+but she knew that he was not bored. He interrupted her several times and
+said:
+
+"And you did that!"
+
+Then he questioned her, asking her to tell him in detail what she had
+omitted for fear of tiring him. He put questions to her which showed that
+he wished to have an exact account, not only of her work, but above all to
+know what means she had employed to replace all that she had been lacking.
+
+"And that's what you did?" he asked again and again.
+
+When she had finished her story, he placed his hand on her head: "You
+are a brave little girl," he said, "and I am pleased to see that one can
+do something with you. Now go into your office and spend the time as you
+like; at three o'clock we will go out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE SCHEMERS
+
+
+Mr. Bendit's office which Perrine occupied was a tiny place whose sole
+furniture consisted of a table and two chairs, a bookcase in blackwood,
+and a map of the world.
+
+Yet with its polished pine floor, and a window with its red and white
+shade, it appeared very bright to Perrine. Not only was the office
+assigned to her cheerful, but she found that by leaving the door open
+she could see and occasionally hear what was going on in the other
+offices.
+
+Monsieur Vulfran's nephews, Theodore and Casimir, had their rooms on the
+right and on the left of his; after theirs came the counting house, then
+lastly, there was Fabry, the engineer's, office. This one was opposite
+hers. Fabry's office was a large room where several draughtsmen were
+standing up before their drawings, arranged on high inclined desks.
+
+Having nothing to do and not liking to take M. Bendit's chair, Perrine
+took a seat by the door. She opened one of the dictionaries which were
+the only kind of books the office contained. She would have preferred
+anything else but she had to be contented with what was there.
+
+The hours passed slowly, but at last the bell rang for luncheon. Perrine
+was one of the first to go out. On the way she was joined by Fabry and
+Mombleux. They also were going to Mother Francoise's house.
+
+"So then you are a comrade of ours, Mademoiselle," said Mombleux, who
+had not forgotten his humiliation at Saint-Pipoy, and he wanted to make
+the one who was the cause of it pay for it.
+
+She felt the sarcasm of his words and for a moment she was disconcerted,
+but she recovered herself quickly.
+
+"No, Monsieur," she said quietly, "not of yours but of William's."
+
+The tone of her reply evidently pleased the engineer, for turning to
+Perrine he gave her an encouraging smile.
+
+"But if you are replacing Mr. Bendit?" said Mombleux obstinately.
+
+"Say that Mademoiselle is keeping his job for him," retorted Fabry.
+
+"It's the same thing," answered Mombleux.
+
+"Not at all, for in a week or two, when he'll be better, he'll come back
+in his old place. He certainly would not have had it if Mademoiselle had
+not been here to keep it for him."
+
+"It seems to me that you and I also have helped to keep it for him,"
+said Mombleux.
+
+"Yes, but this little girl has done her share; he'll have to be grateful
+to all three of us," said Fabry, smiling again at Perrine.
+
+If she had misunderstood the sense of Mombleux's words, the way in which
+she was treated at Mother Francoise's would have enlightened her. Her
+place was not set at the boarders' table as it would have been if she
+had been considered their equal, but at a little table at the side. And
+she was served after everyone else had taken from the dishes what they
+required.
+
+But that did not hurt her; what did it matter to her if she were served
+first or last, and if the best pieces had already been taken. What
+interested her was that she was placed near enough to them to hear their
+conversation. She hoped that what she heard might guide her as to how
+she should act in the midst of the difficulties which confronted her.
+
+These men knew the habits of M. Vulfran, his nephews, and Talouel, of
+whom she stood so much in fear; a word from them would enlighten her and
+she might be shown a danger which she did not even suspect, and if she
+was aware of it she could avoid it. She would not spy upon them. She
+would not listen at doors. When they were speaking they knew that they
+were not alone. So she need have no scruples but could profit by their
+remarks.
+
+Unfortunately on that particular morning they said nothing that
+interested her; their talk was on insignificant matters. As soon as she
+had finished her meal she hurried to Rosalie, for she wanted to know how
+M. Vulfran had discovered that she had only slept one night at her
+grandmother's house.
+
+"It was that Skinny who came here while you were at Picquigny," said
+Rosalie, "and he got Aunt Zenobie to talk about you; and you bet it
+isn't hard to make Aunt Zenobie talk especially when she gets something
+for doing so. She told him that you had spent only one night here and
+all sorts of other things besides."
+
+"What other things?"
+
+"I don't know because I was not there, but you can imagine the worst,
+but fortunately it has not turned out badly for you."
+
+"No, on the contrary it has turned out very well, because M. Vulfran was
+amused and interested when I told him my story."
+
+"I'll tell Aunt Zenobie, that'll make her mad."
+
+"Oh, don't put her against me."
+
+"Put her against you; oh, there's no danger of that now. She knows the
+position that M. Vulfran has given you, you won't have a better friend
+... seemingly. You'll see tomorrow. Only if you don't want that Skinny
+to know your business, don't tell anything to her."
+
+"That I won't."
+
+"Oh, she's sly enough."
+
+"Yes, but now you've warned me...."
+
+At three o'clock as arranged, M. Vulfran rang for Perrine and they drove
+off in the phaeton to make the customary round of the factories, for he
+did not let a single day pass without visiting the different buildings.
+
+Although he could not see he could at least be seen, and when he gave
+his orders it was difficult to believe that he was blind; he seemed to
+know everything that was going on.
+
+That day they began at the village of Flexelles. They stayed some time
+in the building and when they came out William was not to be seen. The
+horse was tied to a tree and William, the coachman, had disappeared. As
+soon as his employer had gone into his factories, William of course, as
+usual, had hurried to the nearest wine shop ... meeting a boon companion
+there he had forgotten the hour.
+
+M. Vulfran sent one of his men off to search for his recalcitrant
+coachman. After waiting several minutes, the blind man became very
+angry. Finally William, with head held high, came staggering along.
+
+"I can tell by the sound of his footsteps that he is drunk, Benoist,"
+said M. Vulfran, addressing his manager, who stood beside him. "I am
+right, am I not?"
+
+"Yes, sir ... nothing can be hidden from you. He is drunk...."
+
+William began to apologize.
+
+"I've just come from...." he began, but his employer cut him short.
+
+"That is enough," said M. Vulfran, sternly. "I can tell by your breath
+and the way you walk that you are drunk."
+
+"I was just going to say, sir," began William again, as he untied the
+horse, but at that moment he dropped the whip and stooping down, he
+tried three times to grasp it. The manager looked grave.
+
+"I think it would be better if I drove you to Maraucourt," he said. "I
+am afraid you would not be safe with William."
+
+"Why so?" demanded William insolently.
+
+"Silence," commanded M. Vulfran, in a tone that admitted of no reply.
+"From this moment you can consider yourself dismissed from my service."
+
+"But, sir, I was going to say...."
+
+With an uplifted motion of his hand M. Vulfran stopped him and turned to
+his manager.
+
+"Thank you, Benoist," he said, "but I think this little girl can drive
+me home. Coco is as quiet as a lamb, and she can well replace this
+drunken creature."
+
+He was assisted into the carriage, and Perrine took her place beside
+him. She was very grave, for she felt the responsibility of her position.
+
+"Not too quickly," said M. Vulfran, when she touched Coco with the end
+of her whip.
+
+"Oh, please, sir, I don't want to go quickly, I assure you," she said,
+nervously.
+
+"That's a good thing; let her just trot."
+
+There was a great surprise in the streets of Maraucourt when the
+villagers saw the head of the firm seated beside a little girl wearing a
+hat of black straw and a black dress, who was gravely driving old Coco
+at a straight trot instead of the zigzag course that William forced the
+old animal to take in spite of herself. What was happening? Where was
+this little girl going? They questioned one another as they stood at the
+doors, for few people in the village knew of her and of the position
+that M. Vulfran had given her.
+
+When they arrived at Mother Francoise's house, Aunt Zenobie was leaning
+over the gate talking to two women. When she caught sight of Perrine she
+stared in amazement, but her look of astonishment was quickly followed
+by her best smile, the smile of a real friend.
+
+"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran! Good day, Mademoiselle Aurelie!" she called
+out.
+
+As soon as the carriage had passed she told her neighbors how she had
+procured the fine position for the young girl who had been their boarder.
+She had recommended her so highly to Skinny.
+
+"She's a nice girl, though," she added, "and she'll not forget what she
+owes us. She owes it all to us."
+
+If the villagers had been surprised to see Perrine driving M. Vulfran,
+Talouel was absolutely stunned.
+
+"Where is William?" he cried, hurrying down the steps of the veranda to
+meet his employer.
+
+"Sent off for continual drunkenness," said M. Vulfran, smiling.
+
+"I had supposed that you would take this step eventually," said Talouel.
+
+"Exactly," replied his employer briefly.
+
+Talouel had established his power in the house by these two words, "I
+suppose." His aim was to persuade his chief that he was so devoted to
+his interests that he was able to foresee every wish that he might have.
+So he usually began with these words, "I suppose that you want...."
+
+He had the subtlety of the peasant, always on the alert, and his quality
+for spying made him stop at nothing to get the information he desired.
+M. Vulfran usually made the same reply when Talouel had "supposed"
+something.
+
+"Exactly," the blind man would say.
+
+"And I suppose you find," continued Talouel, as he helped his employer
+to get down, "that the one who has replaced him deserves your trust?"
+
+"Exactly," said the blind man again.
+
+"I'm not astonished," added the crafty Talouel. "The day when Rosalie
+brought her here I thought there was something in her, and I was sure
+you would soon find that out."
+
+As he spoke he looked at Perrine, and his look plainly said: "You
+see what I've done for you. Don't forget it, and be ready to do me
+a service."
+
+A demand of payment on this order was not long in coming.
+
+A little later, stopping before the door of the office in which Perrine
+sat, he said in a low voice from the doorway:
+
+"Tell me what happened with William."
+
+Perrine thought that if she frankly replied to his question she would
+not be revealing any serious matter, so she related exactly what had
+occurred.
+
+"Ah, good," he said, more at ease. "Now, if he should come to me and
+ask to be taken back I'll settle with him."
+
+Later on Fabry and Mombleux put the same question to her, for everyone
+now knew that little Perrine had had to drive the chief home because his
+coachman had been too drunk to hold the reins.
+
+"It's a miracle that he hasn't upset the boss a dozen times," said
+Fabry, "for he drives like a crazy creature when he's drunk. He should
+have been sent off long ago."
+
+"Yes, and he would have been," said Mombleux, smiling, "if certain ones
+who wanted his help had not done all they could to keep him."
+
+Perrine became all attention.
+
+"They'll make a face when they see that he's gone, but I'll give William
+his due: he didn't know that he was spying."
+
+They were silent while Zenobie came in to change the plates. They had
+not thought that the pretty little girl in the corner was listening to
+their conversation. After Zenobie had left the room they went on with
+their talk.
+
+"But what if the son returns?" asked Mombleux.
+
+"Well, most of us want him back, for the old man's getting old," said
+Fabry; "but perhaps he's dead."
+
+"That might be," agreed Mombleux. "Talouel's so ambitious he'd stop at
+nothing. He wants to own the place, and he'll get it if he can."
+
+"Yes, and who knows? Maybe he had a hand in keeping M. Edmond away.
+Neither of us were here at the time, but you might be sure that Talouel
+would work out things to his own interests."
+
+"I hadn't thought of that."
+
+"Yes, and at that time he didn't know that there'd be others to take the
+place of M. Edmond. I'm not sure what he's scheming to get, but it's
+something big."
+
+"Yes, and he's doing some dirty work for sure, and only think, when he
+was twenty years old he couldn't write his own name."
+
+Rosalie came into the room at this moment and asked Perrine if she would
+like to go on an errand with her. Perrine could not refuse. She had
+finished her dinner some time ago, and if she remained in her corner she
+would soon awaken their suspicions.
+
+It was a quiet evening. The people sat at their street doors chatting.
+After Rosalie had finished her errand she wanted to go from one door to
+another to gossip, but Perrine had no desire for this, and she excused
+herself on the plea of being tired. She did not want to go to bed. She
+just wanted to be alone, to think, in her little room, with the door
+closed. She wanted to take a clear account of the situation in which she
+now found herself.
+
+When she heard Fabry and Mombleux speaking of the manager she realized
+how much she had to fear this man. He had given her to understand that
+he was the master, and as such it was his right to be informed of all
+that happened. But all that was nothing compared with what had been
+revealed to her in the conversation that she had just heard.
+
+She knew that he wished to exercise his authority over everyone. But she
+had not known that his ambition was to take her grandfather's place some
+day. This man was scheming to replace the all-powerful master of the
+Maraucourt factories; for years he had plotted with this object in view.
+All this she had just learned. The two men whose conversation she had
+overheard were in a position to know the facts. And this terrible man,
+now that she had replaced William, intended that she should spy upon his
+employer.
+
+What should she do? She was only a little girl, almost a child, and
+there was no one to protect her. What should she do?
+
+She had asked herself this question before, but under different
+circumstances. It was impossible for her to lie down, so nervous and
+excited was she at what she had heard.
+
+Perhaps this dreadful man had schemed to keep her dear dead father away
+from his home, and he was still working in an underhanded way for what?
+Was he trying to get out of the way the two nephews who would replace
+his master? If he had the power to do this, what might he not do to her
+if she refused to spy for him?
+
+She spent the greater part of the night turning these questions over in
+her little head. At last, tired out with the difficulties which
+confronted her, she dropped her curly head on the pillow and slept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+LETTERS FROM DACCA
+
+
+The first thing that M. Vulfran did upon reaching his office in the
+morning was to open his mail. Domestic letters were arranged in one pile
+and foreign letters in another. Since he had gone blind his nephews or
+Talouel read the French mail aloud to him; the English letters were
+given to Fabry and the German to Mombleux.
+
+The day following the conversation between Fabry and Mombleux which had
+caused Perrine so much anxiety, M. Vulfran, his nephews and the manager
+were occupied with the morning's mail. Suddenly Theodore exclaimed:
+
+"A letter from Dacca, dated May 29."
+
+"In French?" demanded M. Vulfran.
+
+"No, in English."
+
+"What signature?"
+
+"It's not very clear ... looks like Field. Fildes ... preceded by a word
+that I can't make out. There are four pages. Your name occurs in several
+places, uncle. Shall I give it to Fabry?"
+
+Simultaneously, Theodore and Talouel cast a quick look at M. Vulfran,
+but catching each other in this act, which betrayed that each was
+intensely curious, they both assumed an indifferent air.
+
+"I'm putting the letter on your table, uncle," said Theodore.
+
+"Give it to me," replied M. Vulfran.
+
+When the stenographer had gone off with the replies to the various
+letters, M. Vulfran dismissed his manager and his two nephews and rang
+for Perrine.
+
+She appeared immediately.
+
+"What's in the letter?" he asked.
+
+She took the letter that he handed to her and glanced at it. If he could
+have seen her he would have noticed that she had turned very pale and
+that her hands trembled.
+
+"It is an English letter, dated May 29, from Dacca," she replied.
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From Father Fields."
+
+"What does it say?"
+
+"May I read a few lines first, please ... before I tell you?"
+
+"Yes, but do it quickly."
+
+She tried to do as she was told, but her emotion increased as she read
+... the words dancing before her eyes.
+
+"Well?" demanded M. Vulfran, impatiently.
+
+"It is difficult to read," she murmured, "and difficult to understand;
+the sentences are very long."
+
+"Don't translate literally; just tell me what it is about."
+
+[Illustration: SHE TRIED TO DO AS SHE WAS TOLD, BUT HER EMOTION
+INCREASED AS SHE READ.]
+
+There was another long pause; at last she said:
+
+"Father Fields says that Father Leclerc, to whom you wrote, is dead, and
+that before dying he asked him to send this reply to you. He was
+unable to communicate with you before, as he had some difficulty in
+getting together the facts that you desired. He excuses himself for
+writing in English, as his knowledge of French is very slight."
+
+"What information does he send?" asked the blind man.
+
+"I have not come to that yet, sir," replied Perrine.
+
+Although little Perrine gave this reply in a very gentle voice, the
+blind man knew that he would gain nothing by hurrying her.
+
+"You are right," he said; "not being in French, you must understand it
+thoroughly before you can explain it to me. You'd better take the letter
+and go into Bendit's office; translate it as accurately as you can,
+writing it out so that you can read it to me. Don't lose a minute. I'm
+anxious to know what it contains."
+
+He called her back as she was leaving.
+
+"This letter relates to a personal matter," he said, "and I do not wish
+anyone to know about it ... understand ... no one. If anyone dares
+question you about it, you must say nothing, nor give them any inkling
+of what it is about. You see what confidence I place in you. I hope that
+you will prove yourself worthy of my trust. If you serve me faithfully,
+you may be sure that you will be taken care of."
+
+"I promise you, sir, that I'll deserve your trust," said Perrine,
+earnestly.
+
+"Very well; now hurry."
+
+But hurry she could not. She read the letter from beginning to end, then
+re-read it. Finally she took a large sheet of paper and commenced to
+write:
+
+
+    "Dacca, May 29.
+
+    "Honored Sir:
+
+    "It is with great grief that I inform you that we have
+    lost our Reverend Father Leclerc, to whom you wrote for
+    certain important information. When dying he asked me to
+    send a reply to your letter, and I regret that it could
+    not have been sent earlier, but after a lapse of twelve
+    years I have had some difficulty in getting the facts
+    that you desire, and I must ask pardon for sending the
+    information I now have in English, as my knowledge of
+    French is very slight...."
+
+Perrine, who had only read this far to M. Vulfran, now stopped to read
+and correct what she had done. She was giving all her attention to her
+translation when the office door was opened by Theodore Paindavoine. He
+came into the room, closing the door after him, and asked for a French
+and English dictionary.
+
+This dictionary was opened before her. She closed it and handed it to
+him.
+
+"Are you not using it?" he asked, coming close to her.
+
+"Yes, but I can manage without it," she replied.
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"I really only need it to spell the French words correctly," she said,
+"and a French dictionary will do as well."
+
+She knew that he was standing just at the back of her, and although she
+could not see his eyes, being afraid to turn round, she felt that he was
+reading over her shoulder.
+
+"Ah, you're translating that letter from Dacca?" he said.
+
+She was surprised that he knew about this letter which was to be kept a
+secret. Then she realized that he was questioning her, and that his
+request for a dictionary was only a pretext. Why did he need an English
+dictionary if he could not understand a word of English?
+
+"Yes, monsieur," she said.
+
+"Is the translation coming along all right?" he asked.
+
+She felt that he was bending over her, that his eyes were fixed on what
+she had translated. Quickly she moved her paper, turning it so that he
+could only see it sideways.
+
+"Oh, please, sir," she exclaimed; "don't read it. It is not correct ...
+it is all confused. I was just trying."
+
+"Oh, never mind that."
+
+"Oh, but I do mind. I should be ashamed to let you see this."
+
+He wanted to take the sheet of paper, but she put both her small hands
+over it. She determined to hold her own even with one of the heads of
+the house.
+
+Until then he had spoken pleasantly to her.
+
+"Now give it to me," he said briefly. "I'm not playing schoolmaster with
+a pretty little girl like you."
+
+"But, sir, it is impossible; I can't let you see it," she said
+obstinately.
+
+Laughingly he tried to take it from her, but she resisted him.
+
+"No, I will not let you have it," she said with determination.
+
+"Oh, this is a joke!" replied Theodore.
+
+"It is not a joke; I am very serious," said little Perrine. "Monsieur
+Vulfran forbade me to let anyone see this letter. I am obeying him."
+
+"It was I who opened it."
+
+"The letter in English is not the translation."
+
+"Oh, my uncle will show me this wonderful translation presently," he
+replied.
+
+"If your uncle shows it, very well; but that won't be me showing it. He
+gave me his orders and I must obey him."
+
+He saw by her resolute attitude that if he wanted the paper he would
+have to take it from her by force. But then, if he did so, she would
+probably call out. He did not dare go as far as that.
+
+"I am delighted to see how faithfully you carry out my uncle's orders,
+even in trivial things," he said, sarcastically, leaving the room.
+
+When he had gone and closed the door Perrine tried to go on with her
+work, but she was so upset she found it impossible to do so. She knew
+that Theodore was not delighted, as he had said, but furious. If he
+intended to make her pay for thwarting his will, how could she defend
+herself against such a powerful enemy? He could crush her with the first
+blow and she would have to leave.
+
+The door was again opened and Talouel, with gliding step, came into the
+room. His eyes fell at once on the letter.
+
+"Well, how is the translation of that letter from Dacca coming along?"
+he asked.
+
+"I have only just commenced it," replied Perrine timidly.
+
+"M. Theodore interrupted you just now. What did he want?"
+
+"A French and English dictionary."
+
+"What for? He doesn't know English."
+
+"He did not tell me why he wanted it."
+
+"Did he want to know what was in the letter?" asked Talouel.
+
+"I had only commenced the first phrase," said Perrine, evasively.
+
+"You don't ask me to believe that you have not read it?"
+
+"I have not yet translated it."
+
+"I ask you if you have read it."
+
+"I cannot reply to that."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because M. Vulfran has forbidden me to speak of this letter."
+
+"You know very well that M. Vulfran and I are as one. All of his orders
+pass by me; all favors that he bestows are also passed by me. I have to
+know all that concerns him."
+
+"Even his personal affairs?"
+
+"Does that letter relate to personal affairs then?" asked Talouel.
+
+She realized that she had let herself be caught.
+
+"I did not say that," she said. "I said that in case it was a personal
+letter, ought I to let you know the contents?"
+
+"I certainly should know," said Talouel, "if it relates to personal
+affairs. Do you know that he is ill from worrying over matters which
+might kill him? If he now received some news that might cause him great
+sorrow or great joy, it might prove fatal to him. He must not be told
+anything suddenly. That is why I ought to know beforehand anything that
+concerns him, so as to prepare him. I could not do that if you read your
+translation straight off to him."
+
+He said this in a suave, insinuating voice, very different from his
+ordinary rough tones.
+
+She was silent, looking up at him with an emotion which made her very
+pale.
+
+"I hope that you are intelligent enough to understand what I am telling
+you," he continued. "It is important for us, for the entire town, who
+depend upon M. Vulfran for a livelihood, to consider his health. See
+what a good job you have now with him; in time it will be much better.
+We, every one of us, must work for his good. He looks strong, but he is
+not so strong as he appears, so much sorrow has undermined his health;
+and then the loss of his sight depresses him terribly. He places every
+confidence in me, and I must see that nothing hurts him."
+
+If Perrine had not known Talouel she might have been won by his words;
+but after what she had heard the factory girls say about him, and the
+talk that she had overheard between Fabry and Mombleux, who were men
+able to judge character, she felt that she could not believe in him. He
+was not sincere. He wanted to make her talk, and he would attempt any
+deceit and hypocrisy to gain his object.
+
+M. Vulfran had told her that if she were questioned she must not let
+anyone know the contents of the letter. Evidently he had foreseen what
+might happen. She must obey him.
+
+Talouel, leaning on her desk, fixed his eyes on her face. She needed all
+her courage; it seemed as though he were trying to hypnotize her. In a
+hoarse voice which betrayed her emotion, but which did not tremble,
+however, she said:
+
+"Monsieur Vulfran forbade me to speak of this letter to anyone."
+
+Her determined attitude made him furious, but controlling himself, he
+leaned over her again and said gently, but firmly: "Yes, of course; but
+then I'm not anyone. I am his other self."
+
+She did not reply.
+
+"Are you a fool?" he cried at last in a stifled voice.
+
+"Perhaps I am," she said.
+
+"Well, then, understand," he said, roughly, "you'd better show some
+intelligence if you want to hold this job that M. Vulfran has given you.
+If you haven't any intelligence you can't hold the job, and instead of
+protecting you, as I intended, it will be my duty to pack you off ...
+fire you! Understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, think about it; think what your position is today and think what
+it will be tomorrow, turned out in the streets; then let me know what
+you decide to do. Tell me this evening."
+
+Then as she showed no signs of weakening, he went out of the room with
+the same gliding step with which he had entered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+A CABLE TO DACCA
+
+
+M. Vulfran was waiting for her. She had no time to think over what
+Talouel had threatened. She went on with her translation, hoping that
+her emotion would die down and leave her in a state better able to come
+to a decision as to what she should do. She continued to write:
+
+"So much time has elapsed since the marriage of your son, M. Edmond
+Paindavoine, that I have had some difficulty in getting together the
+facts. It was our own Father Leclerc who performed this marriage.
+
+"The lady who became your son's wife was endowed with the finest womanly
+qualities. She was upright, kind, charming; added to these qualities,
+she was gifted with remarkable personal charms. The time is past when
+all the knowledge the Hindu woman possessed consisted in the art of
+being graceful and the science of etiquette of their social world. Today
+the Hindu woman's mind is cultivated to a remarkable degree. Your son's
+wife was a highly educated girl. Her father and mother were of the
+Brahmin faith, but Father Leclerc had the joy of converting them to our
+own religion. Unfortunately, when a Hindu is converted to our religion
+he loses his caste, his rank, his standing in social life. This was the
+case with the family whose daughter married your son. By becoming
+Christians, they became to a certain extent outcasts.
+
+"So you will quite understand that being cast off by the all-powerful
+Hindu world, this charming girl, who was now a Christian, should turn
+and take her place in European society. Her father went into partnership
+with a well-known French exporter, and the firm was known as Doressany
+(Hindu) & Bercher (French).
+
+"It was in the home of Madame Bercher that your son met Marie Doressany
+and fell in love with her. Everybody spoke in the highest praise of this
+young lady. I did not know her, for I came to Dacca after she left. Why
+there should have been any obstacle to this union I cannot say. That is
+a matter I must not discuss. Although there were, however, objections,
+the marriage took place and in our own Chapel. The Reverend Father
+Leclerc bestowed the nuptial blessing upon the marriage of your son and
+Marie Doressany. This marriage was recorded in our registers, and a copy
+of it can be sent to you if you wish.
+
+"For four years your son Edmond lived at the home of his wife's parents.
+There a little girl was born to the young couple. Everyone who remembers
+them speaks of them, as a model couple, and like all young people, they
+took part in the social pleasures of their world.
+
+"For some time the firm of Doressany & Bercher prospered, then hard
+times came, and after several bad seasons the firm was ruined. M. and
+Mme. Doressany died at some months' interval, and Monsieur Bercher with
+his family returned to France. Your son then traveled to Dalhousie as
+collector of plants and antiquities for various English houses. He took
+with him his young wife and his little girl, who was about three years
+old.
+
+"He did not return to Dacca, but I learn from one of his friends to whom
+he has written several times, and from Father Leclerc, who wrote
+regularly to Mme. Paindavoine, that they had a villa at Dehra. They
+selected this spot to live in as it was the center of his voyages; he
+traveled between the Thiberian frontier and the Himalayas.
+
+"I do not know Dehra, but we have a mission in this town, and if you
+think it might help in our researches I shall be pleased to send you a
+letter for one of the Fathers whose help might be useful in this
+matter...."
+
+At last the letter was finished. The moment she had translated the last
+word, without even waiting to write the polite ending, she gathered up
+her sheets and went quickly to M. Vulfran's office. She found him
+walking back and forth the length of the room, counting his steps as
+much to avoid bumping against the wall as to curb his impatience.
+
+"You have been very slow," he said.
+
+"The letter was long and difficult," she replied.
+
+"And you were interrupted, were you not? I heard the door of your office
+open and close twice."
+
+Since he put the question to her, she thought that she ought to reply
+truthfully. It would solve the problem that had caused her so much
+anxiety.
+
+"Monsieur Theodore and Monsieur Talouel came into the office," she said.
+
+"Ah!..."
+
+He seemed as though he wanted to say more, but refrained.
+
+"Give me the letter first," he said, "and we'll see to the other matter
+after. Sit down beside me and read slowly. Don't raise your voice."
+
+She read. Her voice was somewhat weak.
+
+As she read the blind man murmured to himself from time to time: "Model
+couple" ... "social pleasures" ... "English houses" ... "which?" ...
+"One of his friends" ... "Which friend?"
+
+When she had finished there was a silence. Finally M. Vulfran spoke:
+
+"Can you translate into English as well as you translate English into
+French?" he asked.
+
+"I can do it if the phrases are not too difficult," she replied.
+
+"A cable?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"Well, sit down at that little table and write."
+
+He dictated in French:
+
+    "Father Fields' Mission, Dacca:
+
+    "Thanks for letter. Please send by cable, reply prepaid,
+    twenty words ... name of friend who received last news,
+    date of letter. Send also name of the Reverend Father
+    at Dehra. Inform him that I shall write him immediately.
+    Paindavoine."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Translate that into English and make it shorter rather than longer, if
+possible. At one franc sixty centimes a word, we must not waste words.
+Write very clearly."
+
+The translation was quickly made.
+
+"How many words?" he asked.
+
+"In English ... thirty-seven."
+
+He made the calculation for the message and for the return answer.
+
+"Now," he said to Perrine, giving her the money, "take it yourself to
+the telegraph office, hand it in and see that no mistakes are made by
+the receiver."
+
+As she crossed the veranda she saw Talouel, who, with his hands thrust
+in his pockets, was strolling about as though on the lookout for all
+that passed in the yards as well as in the offices.
+
+"Where are you going?" he demanded.
+
+"To the cable office with a message," replied Perrine. She held the
+paper in one hand and the money in the other. He took the paper from
+her, snatching it so roughly that if she had not let it go he would have
+torn it. He hastily opened it. His face flushed with anger when he saw
+that the message was written in English.
+
+"You know that you've got to talk with me later on, eh?" he said.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+She did not see M. Vulfran again before three o'clock, when he rang for
+her to go out. She had wondered who would replace William, and she was
+very surprised when M. Vulfran told her to take her seat beside him,
+after having sent away the coachman who had brought old Coco around.
+
+"As you drove him so well yesterday, there is no reason why you should
+not drive him well today," said M. Vulfran. "Besides, I want to talk to
+you, and it is better for us to be alone like this."
+
+It was not until they had left behind the village, where their
+appearance excited the same curiosity as the evening before, and were
+going at a gentle trot along the lanes, that M. Vulfran began to talk.
+Perrine would like to have put off this moment; she was very nervous.
+
+"You told me that M. Theodore and Talouel came into your office?" said
+the blind man.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What did they want?"
+
+She hesitated. Her little face wore a very worried look.
+
+"Why do you hesitate?" asked the blind man. "Don't you think that you
+ought to tell me everything?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Perrine, fervently. Was this not the best way to
+solve her difficulties? She told what had happened when Theodore had
+come into the office.
+
+"Was that all?" asked M. Vulfran, when she stopped.
+
+"Yes, sir; that was all."
+
+"And Talouel?"
+
+Again she told exactly what had occurred, only omitting to tell him that
+Talouel had said that a sudden announcement of news, good or bad, might
+prove fatal to him. She then told him what had passed regarding the
+cable; and also that Talouel said he was going to talk with her after
+work that same day.
+
+As she talked she had let old Coco go at her own will, and the old
+horse, taking advantage of her freedom, shambled along calmly from one
+side of the road to the other, sniffing the odor of the warm hay that
+the breeze wafted to his nostrils.
+
+When Perrine stopped talking her grandfather remained silent for some
+time. Knowing that he could not see her, she fixed her eyes on his face
+and she read in his expression as much sadness as annoyance.
+
+"No harm shall come to you," he said at last. "I shall not mention what
+you have told me, and if anyone wants to take revenge on you for
+opposing their attempts I shall be near to protect you. I thought
+something like this would happen, but it will not occur a second time.
+In the future you will sit at the little table that is in my office. I
+hardly think that they'll try to question you before me. But as they
+might try to do so after you leave off work, over at Mother Francoise's
+where you eat, I shall take you to my home to live with me. You will
+have a room in the chateau, and you will eat at my table. As I am
+expecting to have some correspondence with persons in India, and I
+shall receive letters in English and cables, you alone will know about
+them. I must take every precaution, for they will do their utmost to
+make you talk. I shall be able to protect you if you are by my side;
+besides, this will be my reply to those who try to force you to speak,
+as well as a warning if they still try to tempt you. Then, also, it will
+be a reward for you."
+
+Perrine, who had been trembling with anxiety when M. Vulfran commenced
+to speak, was now so overcome with joy that she could find no words with
+which to reply.
+
+"I had faith in you, child," continued the old man, "from the moment I
+knew what struggle you had made against poverty. When one is as brave as
+you, one is honest. You have proved to me that I have not made a
+mistake, and that I can be proud of you. It is as though I have known
+you for years. I am a very lonely and unhappy man. What is my wealth to
+me? It is a heavy burden if you have not the health to enjoy it. And yet
+there are those who envy me. There are seven thousand men and women who
+depend upon me for a living. If I failed there would be misery and
+hunger and perhaps death for many. I must keep up for them. I must
+uphold the honor of this house which I have built up, little by little.
+It is my joy, my pride ... and yet ... I am blind!"
+
+The last words were said with such bitterness that Perrine's eyes filled
+with tears. The blind man continued: "You ought to know from village
+talk and from the letter that you translated that I have a son. My son
+and I disagreed. We parted; there were many reasons for us doing so. He
+then married against my wishes and our separation was complete. But with
+all this my affection for him has not changed. I love him after all
+these years of absence as though he were still the little boy I brought
+up, and when I think of him, which is day and night, it is the little
+boy that I see with my sightless eyes. My son preferred that woman to
+his own father. Instead of coming back to me he preferred to live with
+her because I would not, or could not, receive her. I hoped that he
+would give in, but he thought probably that I in time would give in. We
+have both the same characters. I have had no news from him. After my
+illness, of which I am sure he knew, for I have every reason to believe
+that he has been kept informed of all that happens here, I thought that
+he would come back to me, but he has not returned. That wretched woman
+evidently holds him back. She is not content with having taken him from
+me, she keeps him ... the wretch...."
+
+The blind man stopped. Perrine, who had been hanging on his words, had
+scarcely breathed, but at the last words she spoke.
+
+"The letter from Father Fields said that she was a lady, honorable and
+upright. He does not speak of her as a wretch."
+
+"What the letter says cannot go against facts," said the blind man,
+obstinately. "The main fact which has made me hate her is that she keeps
+my son from me. A creature of her kind should efface herself and let him
+return and take up again the life which is his. It is through her that
+we are parted. I have tried to find him, but I cannot. He must come back
+and take his place. You may not understand all I tell you, my child, but
+when I die my whole fortune must go to my son. He is my heir. When I die
+who will take my place if he is not here? Can you understand what I am
+saying, little girl?" said the old man, almost entreatingly.
+
+"I think so, sir," said Perrine gently.
+
+"But there, I don't wish you to understand entirely. There are those
+around me who ought to help me. There are certain ones who do not want
+my boy to return; it is to their interest that he should not come back,
+so they try to think that he is dead. My boy dead! Could he be? Could
+God strike me such a terrible blow? They try to believe it, but I will
+not. No, I will not! It can't be! Oh, what should I do if my boy was
+dead!"
+
+Perrine's eyes were no longer fixed on the blind man's face; she had
+turned her face from him as though he could see her own.
+
+"I talk to you frankly, little girl," continued the old man, "because I
+need your help. They are going to try and tempt you again to spy for
+them. I have warned you; that is all that I can do."
+
+They could now see the factory chimneys of Fercheux. Still a few more
+rods and they came to the village. Perrine, who was trembling, could
+only find words to say in a broken voice: "Monsieur Vulfran, you may
+trust me. I will serve you faithfully with all my heart."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+GRANDFATHER'S COMPANION
+
+
+That evening, when the tour of the factories was over, instead of
+returning to his office as was his custom, M. Vulfran told Perrine to
+drive straight to the chateau.
+
+For the first time she passed through the magnificent iron gates, a
+masterpiece of skill that a king had coveted, so it was said, these
+wonderful iron gates which one of France's richest merchants had bought
+for his chateau.
+
+"Follow the main driveway," said M. Vulfran.
+
+For the first time also she saw close to the beautiful flowers and the
+velvety lawns which until then she had only seen from a distance. The
+beautiful blossoms, red and pink masses, seemed like great splashes on
+the verdure. Accustomed to take this road, old Coco trotted along
+calmly, and as there was no occasion to guide her, Perrine was able to
+gaze right and left of her and admire the flowers, plants and shrubs in
+all their beauty. Although their master could not see them as formerly,
+the same attention and skill was showered upon them.
+
+Of her own accord, Coco stopped before the wide steps where an old
+servant, warned by the lodge-keeper's bell, stood waiting.
+
+"Are you there, Bastien?" asked M. Vulfran, without getting down.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then take this young girl to the butterfly room, which is to be hers in
+the future. See that everything is given to her that she needs. Set her
+plate opposite to mine at table. Now send Felix to me. I want him to
+drive me to the office."
+
+Perrine thought that she was dreaming.
+
+"We dine at eight o'clock," said M. Vulfran. "Until then you are free to
+do as you like."
+
+She got out of the carriage quickly and followed the old butler. She was
+so dazed that it was as though she had suddenly been set down in an
+enchanted palace.
+
+And was not this beautiful chateau like a palace? The monumental hall,
+from which rose a wonderful stairway of white marble, up which ran a
+crimson carpet, was a delight to the eyes. On each landing exquisite
+flowers and plants were grouped artistically in pots and jardinieres.
+Their perfume filled the air.
+
+Bastien took her to the second floor, and without entering opened the
+door of a room for her.
+
+"I'll send the chambermaid to you," he said, leaving her.
+
+She passed through a somber little hall, then found herself in a very
+large room draped with ivory colored cretonne patterned with butterflies
+in vivid shades. The furniture was ivory colored wood, and the carpet
+gray, with clusters of wild flowers, primrose, poppies, cornflowers and
+buttercups.
+
+How pretty and dainty it was!
+
+She was still in a dream, pushing her feet into the soft carpet, when
+the maid entered.
+
+"Bastien told me that I was to be at your service, mademoiselle," she
+said.
+
+Here stood a chambermaid in a clean light dress and a muslin cap at her
+service ... she who only a few days before had slept in a hut on a bed
+of ferns with rats and frogs scampering about her.
+
+"Thank you," she said at last, collecting her wits, "but I do not need
+anything ... at least I think not."
+
+"If you like I will show you the apartment," said the maid.
+
+What she meant by "show the apartment" was to throw open the doors of a
+big wardrobe with glass doors, and a closet, then to pull out the
+drawers of the dressing table in which were brushes, scissors, soaps and
+bottles, etc. That done, she showed Perrine two knobs on the wall.
+
+"This one is for the lights," she said, flashing on the electric light,
+"and this one is the bell if you need anything.
+
+"If you need Bastien," she explained, "you have to ring once, and if you
+need me, ring twice."
+
+How much had happened in a few hours! Who would have thought when she
+took her stand against Theodore and Talouel that the wind was going to
+blow so favorably in her direction. How amusing it was ... their ill
+feeling towards her had itself brought her this good luck.
+
+"I suppose that young girl did something foolish?" said Talouel, meeting
+his employer at the foot of the steps. "I see she has not returned with
+you."
+
+"Oh, no; she did not," replied M. Vulfran.
+
+"But if Felix drove you back?..."
+
+"As I passed the chateau I dropped her there so that she would have time
+to get ready for dinner."
+
+"Dinner? Oh, I suppose...."
+
+He was gasping with amazement, and for once he could not say what he did
+suppose.
+
+"You do nothing but 'suppose'," said M. Vulfran, tartly. "I may as well
+tell you that for a long time I have wanted someone intelligent to be
+near me, one who is discreet and whom I can trust. This young girl seems
+to have these qualities. I am sure that she is intelligent, and I have
+already had the proof that I can trust her."
+
+M. Vulfran's tone was significant. Talouel could not misunderstand the
+sense of his words.
+
+"I am taking her to live with me," continued M. Vulfran, "because I know
+that there are those who are trying to tempt her. She is not one to
+yield, but I do not intend that she should run any risk at their hands."
+
+These words were said with even greater significance.
+
+"She will stay with me altogether now," continued M. Vulfran. "She will
+work here in my office; during the day she will accompany me; she will
+eat at my table. I shall not be so lonesome at my meals, for her chatter
+will entertain me."
+
+"I suppose she will give you all the satisfaction that you expect,"
+remarked Talouel suavely.
+
+"I suppose so also," replied his employer, very drily.
+
+Meanwhile Perrine, leaning with her elbows on the window sill, looked
+out dreamily over the beautiful garden, at the factories beyond the
+village with its houses and church, the meadows in which the silvery
+water glistened in the oblique rays of the setting sun; and then her
+eyes turned in the opposite direction, to the woods where she had sat
+down the day she had come, and where in the evening breeze she had
+seemed to hear the soft voice of her mother murmuring, "I know you will
+be happy."
+
+Her dear mother had foreseen the future, and the big daisies had also
+spoken true. Yes, she was beginning to be happy. She must be patient and
+all would come right in time. She need not hurry matters now. There was
+no poverty, no hunger or thirst, in this beautiful chateau where she had
+entered so quickly.
+
+When the factory whistle announced the closing hour she was still
+standing at her window, deep in thought. The piercing whistle recalled
+her from the future to the present.
+
+Along the white roads between the fields she saw a black swarm of
+workers, first a great compact mass, then gradually it grew smaller, as
+they dwindled off in different directions in groups towards their homes.
+
+Old Coco's gentle trot was soon heard on the drive, and Perrine saw her
+blind grandfather returning to his home.
+
+She gave herself a real wash with eau de Cologne as well as soap, a
+delicious perfume soap. It was not until the clock on the mantle shelf
+struck eight that she went down.
+
+She wondered how she would find the dining room. She did not have to
+look for it, however. A footman in a black coat, who was standing in the
+hall, showed her the way. Almost immediately M. Vulfran came in. No one
+guided him. He seemed to have no difficulty in finding his way to his
+seat.
+
+A bowl of beautiful orchids stood in the middle of the table, which was
+covered with massive silver and cut glass, which gleamed in the lights
+that fell from the crystal chandelier.
+
+For a moment she stood behind her chair, not knowing what to do. M.
+Vulfran seemed to sense her attitude.
+
+"Sit down," he said.
+
+The dinner was served at once. The servant who had shown her the way to
+the dining room put a plate of soup before her, while Bastien brought
+another to his master which was full to the brim.
+
+If she had been dining there alone with M. Vulfran she would have been
+quite at her ease, but the inquisitive glances the servants cast at her
+made her feel deeply embarrassed. Probably they were wondering how a
+little tramp like her would eat.
+
+Fortunately, however, she made no mistakes.
+
+The dinner was very simple--soup, roast lamb, green peas and salad--but
+there was abundance of dessert ... two or three raised stands of
+delicious fruit and cakes.
+
+"Tomorrow, if you like, you may go and see the hot houses where these
+fruits are grown," said M. Vulfran.
+
+Perrine thanked him and said she would like to.
+
+She had commenced by helping herself discreetly to some cherries. M.
+Vulfran wished her also to take some apricots, peaches and grapes.
+
+"Take all you want," he said. "At your age I should have eaten all the
+fruit that is on the table ... if it had been offered to me."
+
+Bastien selected an apricot and peach and placed them before Perrine as
+he might have done for an intelligent monkey, just to see how the
+"little animal" would eat.
+
+But despite the delicious fruit, Perrine was very pleased when the
+dinner came to an end. She hoped that the next day the servants would
+not stare so much.
+
+"Now you are free until tomorrow," said M. Vulfran, rising from his
+seat. "It is moonlight, and you can go for a stroll in the garden, or
+read in the library, or take a book up to your own room."
+
+She was embarrassed, wondering if she ought not to tell M. Vulfran that
+she would do as he wished. While she stood hesitating she saw Bastien
+making signs to her which at first she did not understand. He held an
+imaginary book in one hand and appeared to be turning the pages with the
+other, then glanced at M. Vulfran and moved his lips as though he were
+reading. Suddenly Perrine understood. She was to ask if she might read
+to him.
+
+"But don't you need me, sir?" she said, timidly. "Would you not like me
+to read to you?"
+
+Bastien nodded his head in approval. He seemed delighted that she had
+guessed what he had tried to explain.
+
+"Oh, you need some time to yourself," replied M. Vulfran.
+
+"I assure you that I am not at all tired," said Perrine.
+
+"Very well, then," said the blind man; "follow me into the study."
+
+The library was a big somber room separated from the dining room by the
+hall. There was a strip of carpet laid from one room to the other, which
+was a guide for the blind man. He now walked direct to the room
+opposite.
+
+Perrine had wondered how he spent his time when he was alone, as he
+could not read. From the appearance of the room one could not guess, for
+the large table was covered with papers and magazines. Before the window
+stood a large Voltaire chair, upholstered in tapestry. The chair was
+rather worn. This seemed to indicate that the blind man sat for long
+hours face to face with the sky, the clouds of which he could never see.
+
+"What could you read to me?" he asked Perrine.
+
+"A newspaper," she said, "if you wish. There are some on the table."
+
+"The less time one gives to the newspapers the better," he replied. "Do
+you like books on travels?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I do," she said.
+
+"I do, too," he said. "They amuse one as well as instruct one."
+
+Then, as though speaking to himself, as though unaware of her presence,
+he said softly: "Get away from yourself. Get interested in another life
+than your own."
+
+"We'll read from 'Around the World'," he said. He led her to a bookcase
+which contained several volumes on travels and told her to look in the
+index.
+
+"What shall I look for?" she asked.
+
+"Look in the I's ... for the word India."
+
+Thus he was following his own thoughts. How could he live the life of
+another? His one thought was of his son. He now wanted to read about the
+country where his boy lived.
+
+"Tell me what you find," he said.
+
+She read aloud the various headings concerning India. He told her which
+volume to take. As she was about to take it she stood as though
+transfixed, gazing at a portrait hanging over the fireplace which her
+eyes, gradually becoming accustomed to the dim light, had not seen
+before.
+
+"Why are you silent?" he asked.
+
+"I am looking at the portrait over the mantel shelf," she said, in a
+trembling voice.
+
+"That was my son when he was twenty," said the old gentleman; "but you
+can't see it very well. I'll light up."
+
+He touched the electric knob and the room was flooded with light.
+Perrine, who had taken a few steps nearer, uttered a cry and let the
+book of travels fall to the floor.
+
+"What is the matter?" he asked.
+
+She did not reply, but stood there with her eyes fixed on the picture of
+a fair young man dressed in a hunting suit leaning with one hand on a
+gun and the other stroking the head of a black spaniel.
+
+There was silence in the room, then the blind man heard a little sob.
+
+"Why are you crying?" he asked.
+
+Perrine did not reply for a moment. With an effort she tried to control
+her emotion.
+
+"It is the picture ... your son ... you are his father?" she stammered.
+
+At first he did not understand, then in a voice that was strangely
+sympathetic he said:
+
+"And you ... you were thinking of your father, perhaps?"
+
+"Yes, yes, sir; I was."
+
+"Poor little girl," he murmured.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+GETTING AN EDUCATION
+
+
+The next morning, when Theodore and Casimir entered their uncle's office
+to attend to the correspondence, they were amazed to see Perrine
+installed at her table as though she were a fixture there.
+
+Talouel had taken care not to tell them, but he had contrived to be
+present when they entered so as to witness their discomfiture. The sight
+of their amazement gave him considerable enjoyment. Although he was
+furious at the way this little beggar girl had imposed, as he thought,
+upon the senile weakness of an old man, it was at least some
+compensation to know that the two nephews felt the same astonishment and
+indignation that he had.
+
+Evidently they did not understand her presence in this sacred office,
+where they themselves only remained just the time necessary to report on
+the business of which they were in charge.
+
+Theodore and Casimir looked in dismay at one another, but they did not
+dare ask questions. Talouel left the room the same time as they.
+
+"You were surprised to see that girl in the boss' office, eh?" he said,
+when they got outside.
+
+They did not deign to reply.
+
+"If you had not come in late this morning, I should have let you know
+that she was there, and then you would not have looked so taken back.
+She noticed how surprised you were."
+
+He had managed to give them two little knocks: First, there was a gentle
+scolding for them being late; secondly, he had let them see that he, a
+foreman, had noticed that they had been unable to hide their
+discomfiture and that the girl had noticed it, too. And they were M.
+Vulfran's nephews! Ah! ha!
+
+"M. Vulfran told me yesterday that he had taken that girl to live at the
+chateau with him, and that in the future she would work in his office."
+
+"But who is the girl?"
+
+"That's what I'd like to know. I don't think your uncle knows either. He
+told me he wanted someone to be with him whom he could trust."
+
+"Hasn't he got us?" asked Casimir.
+
+"That is just what I said to him. I mentioned you both, and do you know
+what he replied?"
+
+He wanted to pause to give more effect to his words, but he was afraid
+that they would turn their backs upon him before he had said what he
+wanted.
+
+"'Oh, my nephews,' he said, 'and what are they?' From the tone in which
+he said those few words I thought it better not to reply," continued
+Talouel. "He told me then that he intended to have that girl up at the
+chateau with him because there was someone trying to tempt her to tell
+something that she should not tell. He said he knew that she could be
+trusted, but he said he didn't like others that he could not trust to
+put the girl in such a position. He said she had already proved to him
+that she could be trusted. I wonder who he meant had tried to tempt her?
+
+"I thought it my duty to tell you this, because while M. Edmond is away
+you two take his place," added Talouel.
+
+He had given them several thrusts, but he wanted to give them one last
+sharp knock.
+
+"Of course, M. Edmond might return at any moment," he said. "I believe
+that your uncle is on the right track at last. He has been making
+inquiries, and from the looks of things I think we shall have him back
+soon."
+
+"What have you heard? Anything?" asked Theodore, who could not restrain
+his curiosity.
+
+"Oh, I keep my eyes open," said Talouel, "and I can tell you that that
+girl is doing a lot of translating in the way of letters and cables that
+come from India."
+
+At that moment he looked from a window and saw a telegraph boy strolling
+up to the office.
+
+"Here is another cable coming," he said. "This is a reply to one that
+has been sent to Dacca. It must be very annoying for you not to be able
+to speak English. You could be the first to announce to the boss that
+your cousin will be coming back. Now that little tramp will be the one
+to do it."
+
+Talouel hurried forward to meet the telegraph boy.
+
+"Say, you don't hurry yourself, do you?" he cried.
+
+"Do you want me to kill myself?" asked the boy, insolently.
+
+He hurried with the message to M. Vulfran's office.
+
+"Shall I open it, sir?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Yes, do," said M. Vulfran.
+
+"Oh, it is in English," replied Talouel, as he looked at the missive.
+
+"Then Aurelie must attend to it," said M. Vulfran, and with a wave of
+his hand dismissed the manager.
+
+As soon as the door had closed Perrine translated the cable.
+
+It read: "Friend Leserre, a French merchant. Last news from Dehra five
+years. Wrote Father Makerness according to your wish."
+
+"Five years," cried M. Vulfran. Then, as he was not the sort of man to
+waste time in regrets, he said to Perrine: "Write two cables, one to M.
+Leserre in French and one to Father Makerness in English."
+
+She quickly wrote the cable that she had to translate into English, but
+she asked if she could get a dictionary from Bendit's office before she
+did the one in French.
+
+"Are you not sure of your spelling?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"No, I am not at all sure," she replied, "and I should not like them at
+the office to make fun of any message that is sent by you."
+
+"Then you would not be able to write a letter without making mistakes?"
+
+"No, I know I should make a lot of mistakes. I can spell French words
+all right at the commencement, but the endings I find very difficult. I
+find it much easier to write in English, and I think I ought to tell you
+so now."
+
+"Have you never been to school?"
+
+"No, never. I only know what my father and mother taught me. When we
+stopped on the roads they used to make me study, but I never studied
+very much."
+
+"You are a good girl to tell me so frankly. We must see to that, but for
+the moment let us attend to what we have on hand."
+
+It was not until the afternoon, when they were driving out, that he
+again referred to her spelling.
+
+"Have you written to your relations yet?" he asked.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I would like nothing better than to stay here with you, who are
+so kind to me," she said.
+
+"Then you don't want to leave me?" asked the blind man.
+
+"No, I want to help you all I can," said Perrine softly.
+
+"Very well, then you must study so as to be able to act as a little
+secretary for me. Would you like to be educated?"
+
+"Indeed I would! And I will work so hard," said Perrine.
+
+"Well, the matter can be arranged without depriving myself of your
+services," said M. Vulfran; "there is a very good teacher here and I
+will ask her to give you lessons from six to eight in the evenings. She
+is a very nice woman; there are only two things against her; they are
+her height and her name; she is taller than I am, and her shoulders are
+much broader than mine. Her name is Mademoiselle Belhomme. She is indeed
+a _bel homme_, for although she is only forty her shoulders and figure
+are more massive than any man's I know ... I must add that she has not a
+beard."
+
+Perrine smiled at this description of the teacher that she was to have.
+
+After they had made a tour of the factories they stopped before a girl's
+school and Mlle. Belhomme ran out to greet M. Vulfran. He expressed a
+wish to get down and go into the school and speak with her. Perrine, who
+followed in their footsteps, was able to examine her. She was indeed a
+giant, but her manner seemed very womanly and dignified. At times her
+manner was almost timid and did not accord at all with her appearance.
+
+Naturally she could not refuse anything the all-powerful master of
+Maraucourt asked, but even if she had had any reasons to refuse M.
+Vulfran's request the little girl with the beautiful eyes and hair
+pleased her very much.
+
+"Yes," she said to M. Vulfran, "we will make her an educated girl. Do
+you know she has eyes like a gazelle. I have never seen a gazelle, but I
+should imagine their great brown eyes are like hers. They are
+wonderful...."
+
+The next day when M. Vulfran returned to his home at the dinner hour he
+asked the governess what she thought of her new pupil. Mlle. Belhomme
+was most enthusiastic in her praise of Perrine.
+
+"Does she show any intelligence?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"Why she is wonderfully intelligent," replied Mlle. Belhomme; "it would
+have been such a calamity if she had remained without an education...."
+
+M. Vulfran smiled at Mlle. Belhomme's words.
+
+"What about her spelling?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, that is very poor but she'll do better. Her writing is fairly good
+but, of course, she needs to study hard. She is so intelligent it is
+extraordinary. So as to know exactly what she knew in writing and
+spelling I asked her to write me an account of Maraucourt. In twenty to
+a hundred lines I asked her to describe the village to me. She sat down
+and wrote. Her pen flew over the paper; she did not hesitate for words;
+she wrote four long pages; she described the factories, the scenery,
+every thing clearly and in detail. She wrote about the birds and the
+fishes over near the pond, and about the morning mists that cover the
+fields and the water. Then of the calm, quiet evenings. Had I not seen
+her writing it I should have thought that she had copied it from some
+good author. Unfortunately the spelling and writing is very poor but, as
+I said, that does not matter. That is merely a matter of a few months,
+whilst all the lessons in the world would not teach her how to write if
+she had not been gifted with the sense of feeling and seeing in such a
+remarkable manner; that she can convey to others what she feels and
+sees. If you have time to let me read it to you, you will see that I
+have not exaggerated."
+
+The governess read Perrine's narrative to him. He was delighted. He had
+wondered once or twice if he had been wise in so promptly befriending
+this little girl and giving her a place in his home. It had appeared to
+him strange the sudden fancy that he had taken to her.
+
+He told Mlle. Belhomme how her little pupil had lived in a cabin in one
+of the fields, and how, with nothing except what she found on hand, she
+contrived to make kitchen utensils and shoes, and how she had made her
+meals of the fish, herbs and fruit that she found.
+
+Mlle. Belhomme's kind face beamed as the blind man talked. She was
+greatly interested in what he told her. When M. Vulfran stopped the
+governess remained silent, thinking.
+
+"Don't you think," she said at last, "that to know how to create the
+necessities that one needs is a master quality to be desired above all?"
+
+"I certainly do, and it was precisely because that child could do that
+that I first took an interest in her. Ask her some time to tell you her
+story and you will see that it required some energy and courage for her
+to arrive where she is now."
+
+"Well, she has received her reward since she has been able to interest
+you."
+
+"Yes, I am interested, and already attached to her. I am glad that you
+like her, and I hope that you will do all that you can with her."
+
+Perrine made great progress with her studies. She was interested in
+everything her governess had to tell her, but her beautiful eyes
+betrayed the greatest interest when Mlle. Belhomme talked of her
+grandfather. Many times Perrine had spoken of M. Vulfran's illness to
+Rosalie, but she had only received vague replies to her queries; now,
+from her governess, she learned all the details regarding his
+affliction.
+
+Like everyone at Maraucourt, Mlle. Belhomme was concerned with M.
+Vulfran's health, and she had often spoken with Dr. Ruchon so she was in
+a position to satisfy Perrine's curiosity better than Rosalie could.
+
+Her grandfather had a double cataract. It was not incurable; if he were
+operated upon he might recover his sight. The operation had not yet been
+attempted because his health would not allow it.... He was suffering
+from bronchial trouble, and if the operation was to be a success he
+would have to be in a perfect state of health. But M. Vulfran was
+imprudent. He was not careful enough in following the doctor's orders.
+How could he remain calm, as Dr. Ruchon recommended, when he was always
+worked up to a fever of anxiety over the continued absence of his son.
+So long as he was not sure of his son's fate, there was no chance for
+the operation and it was put off. But ... would it be possible to have
+it later? That the oculists could not decide. They were uncertain, so
+long as the blind man's health continued in this precarious state.
+
+But when Mlle. Belhomme saw that Perrine was also anxious to talk about
+Talouel and the two nephews and their hopes regarding the business she
+was not so communicative. It was quite natural that the girl should show
+an interest in her benefactor, but that she should be interested in the
+village gossip was not permissible. Certainly it was not a conversation
+for a governess and her pupil.... It was not with talks of this kind
+that one should mould the character of a young girl.
+
+Perrine would have had to renounce all hope of getting any information
+from her governess if Casimir's mother, Madame Bretoneux, had not
+decided to come to the chateau on a visit. This coming visit opened the
+lips of Mlle. Belhomme, which otherwise would certainly have remained
+closed.
+
+As soon as the governess heard that Mme. Bretoneux was coming she had a
+very serious talk with her little pupil.
+
+"My dear child," she said, lowering her voice, "I must give you some
+advice; I want you to be very reserved with this lady who is coming here
+tomorrow."
+
+"Reserved, about what?" asked Perrine in surprise.
+
+"Monsieur Vulfran did not only ask me to take charge of your education
+but to take a personal interest in you; that is why I give you this
+advice."
+
+"Please, Mademoiselle, explain to me what I ought to do," said Perrine;
+"I don't understand at all what this advice means, and I am very
+nervous."
+
+"Although you have not been very long at Maraucourt," said Mlle.
+Belhomme, "you must know that M. Vulfran's illness and the continued
+absence of his son is a cause of anxiety to all this part of the
+country."
+
+"Yes, I have heard that," answered Perrine.
+
+"What would become of all those employed in the works, seven thousand,
+and all those who are dependent on these seven thousand if Monsieur
+Vulfran should die and his son not return? Will he leave his fortune and
+works to his nephews, of which he has no more confidence in one than the
+other, or to one who for twenty years has been his right hand and who,
+having managed the works with him is, perhaps more than anyone else, in
+a position to keep his hold on them?
+
+"When M. Vulfran took his nephew Theodore into the business everyone
+thought that he intended to make him his heir. But later, when Monsieur
+Casimir left college and his uncle sent for him, they saw that they had
+made a mistake and that M. Vulfran had not decided to leave his business
+to these two boys. His only wish was to have his son back for, although
+they had been parted for ten years, he still loved him. Now no one knew
+whether the son was dead or alive. But there were those who wished that
+he was dead so that they themselves could take M. Vulfran's place when
+he died.
+
+"Now, my dear child," said the governess, "you understand you live here
+in the home of M. Vulfran and you must be very discreet in this matter
+and not talk about it to Casimir's mother. She is working all she can
+for her son's interest and she will push anyone aside who stands in his
+way. Now, if you were on too good terms with her you would be on bad
+terms with Theodore's mother, and the other way about. Then, on the
+other hand, should you gain the good graces of both of them you would
+perhaps have reason to fear one from another direction. That is why I
+give you this little advice. Talk as little as possible. And if you are
+questioned, be careful to make replies as vague as possible. It is
+better sometimes to be looked upon rather as too stupid than too
+intelligent. This is so in your case ... the less intelligent you appear,
+the more intelligent you will really be."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+MEDDLING RELATIVES
+
+
+This advice, given with every kindness, did not tend to lessen Perrine's
+anxiety. She was dreading Madame Bretoneux's visit on the morrow.
+
+Her governess had not exaggerated the situation. The two mothers were
+struggling and scheming in every possible way, each to have her son
+alone inherit one day or another the great works of Maraucourt and the
+fortune which it was rumored would be more than a hundred million
+francs.
+
+The one, Mme. Stanislaus Paindavoine, was the wife of M. Vulfran's
+eldest brother, a big linen merchant. Her husband had not been able to
+give her the position in society which she believed to be hers, and now
+she hoped that, through her son inheriting his uncle's great fortune,
+she would at last be able to take the place in the Parisian world which
+she knew she could grace.
+
+The other, Madame Bretoneux was M. Vulfran's married sister who had
+married a Boulogne merchant, who in turn had been a cement and coal
+merchant, insurance agent and maritime agent, but with all his trades
+had never acquired riches. She wanted her brother's wealth as much for
+love of the money as to get it away from her sister-in-law, whom she
+hated.
+
+While their brother and his only son had lived on good terms, they had
+had to content themselves with borrowing all they could from him in
+loans which they never intended to pay back; but the day when Edmond had
+been packed off to India, ostensibly to buy jute but in reality as a
+punishment for being too extravagant and getting into debt, the two
+women had schemed to take advantage of the situation. On each side they
+had made every preparation so that each could have her son alone, at any
+moment, take the place of the exile.
+
+In spite of all their endeavors the uncle had never consented to let the
+boys live with him at the chateau. There was room enough for them all
+and he was sad and lonely, but he had made a firm stand against having
+them with him in his home.
+
+"I don't want any quarrels or jealousy around me," he had always replied
+to the suggestions made.
+
+He had then given Theodore the house he had lived in before he built the
+chateau and another to Casimir that had belonged to the late head of the
+counting house whom Mombleux had replaced.
+
+So their surprise and indignation had been intense when a stranger, a
+poor girl, almost a child, had been installed in the chateau where they
+themselves had only been admitted as guests.
+
+What did it mean?
+
+Who was this little girl?
+
+What had they to fear from her?
+
+Madame Bretoneux had put these questions to her son but his replies had
+not satisfied her. She decided to find out for herself, hence her visit.
+
+Very uneasy when she arrived, it was not long before she felt quite at
+ease again so well did Perrine play the part that mademoiselle had
+advised her.
+
+Although M. Vulfran had no wish to have his nephews living with him he
+was very hospitable and cordial to their parents when they came to visit
+him. On these occasions the beautiful mansion put on its most festive
+appearance; fires were lighted everywhere; the servants put on their
+best liveries; the best carriages and horses were brought from the
+stables, and in the evening the villagers could see the great chateau
+lighted up from ground floor to roof.
+
+The victoria, with the coachman and footman, had met Mme. Bretoneux at
+the railway station. Upon her getting out of the carriage Bastien had
+been on hand to show her to the apartment which was also reserved for
+her on the first floor.
+
+M. Vulfran never made any change in his habits when his relations came
+to Maraucourt. He saw them at meal times, spent the evenings with them,
+but no more of his time did he give them. With him business came before
+everything; his nephew, the son of whichever one happened to be visiting
+there, came to luncheon and dinner and remained the evening as late as
+he wished, but that was all.
+
+M. Vulfran spent his hours at the office just the same and Perrine was
+always with him, so Madame Bretoneux was not able to follow up her
+investigations on the "little tramp" as she had wished.
+
+She had questioned Bastien and the maids; she had made a call on Mother
+Francoise and had questioned her carefully, also Aunt Zenobie and
+Rosalie, and she had obtained all the information that they could give
+her; that is, all they knew from the moment of her arrival in the
+village until she went to live in the great house as a companion to the
+millionaire. All this, it seemed, was due exclusively to her knowledge
+of English.
+
+She found it a difficult matter, however, to talk to Perrine alone, who
+never left M. Vulfran's side unless it was to go to her own room. Madame
+Bretoneux was in a fever of anxiety to see what was in the girl and
+discover some reason for her sudden success.
+
+At table Perrine said absolutely nothing. In the morning she went off
+with M. Vulfran; after she had finished luncheon she went at once to her
+own room. When they returned from the tour of the factories she went at
+once to her lessons with her governess; in the evening, upon leaving the
+table, she went up again to her own room. Madame Bretoneux could not get
+the girl alone to talk with her. Finally, on the eve of her departure,
+she decided to go to Perrine's own room. Perrine, who thought that she
+had got rid of her, was sleeping peacefully.
+
+A few knocks on the door awoke her. She sat up in bed and listened.
+Another knock.
+
+She got up and went to the door.
+
+"Who is there?" she asked, without opening it.
+
+"Open the door, it is I ... Madame Bretoneux," said a voice.
+
+Perrine turned the lock. Madame Bretoneux slipped into the room while
+Perrine turned on the light.
+
+"Get into bed again," said Madame Bretoneux, "we can talk just as well."
+
+She took a chair and sat at the foot of the bed so that she was full
+face with Perrine.
+
+"I want to talk with you about my brother," she began. "You have taken
+William's place and I want to tell you a few things that you should do;
+for William, in spite of his faults, was very careful of his master's
+health. You seem a nice little girl and very willing, and I am sure if
+you wish you could do as much as William. I assure you that we shall
+appreciate it."
+
+At the first words Perrine was reassured; if it was only of M. Vulfran's
+health that she wanted to speak she had nothing to fear.
+
+"I think you are a very intelligent girl," said Mme. Bretoneux with a
+flattering, ingratiating smile.
+
+At these words and the look which accompanied them Perrine's suspicions
+were aroused at once.
+
+"Thank you," she said, exaggerating her simple child-like smile, "all I
+ask is to give as good service as William."
+
+"Ah, I was sure we could count on you," said Mme. Bretoneux.
+
+"You have only to say what you wish, Madame," said little Perrine,
+looking up at the intruder with her big innocent eyes.
+
+"First of all you must be very attentive about his health; you must
+watch him carefully and see that he does not take cold. A cold might be
+fateful; he would have pulmonary congestion and that would aggravate his
+bronchitis. Do you know if they could cure him of his bronchial trouble
+they could operate upon him and give him back his sight? Think what
+happiness that would be for all of us."
+
+"I also would be happy," replied Perrine.
+
+"Those words prove that you are grateful for what he has done for you,
+but, then, you are not of the family."
+
+Perrine assumed her most innocent air.
+
+"Yes, but that does not prevent me from being attached to M. Vulfran,"
+she said, "believe me, I am."
+
+"Of course," answered Mme. Bretoneux, "and you can prove your devotion
+by giving him the care which I am telling you to give him. My brother
+must not only be protected from catching cold, but he must be guarded
+against sudden emotions which might, in his state of health, kill him.
+He is trying to find our dear Edmond, his only son. He is making
+inquiries in India...."
+
+She paused, but Perrine made no reply.
+
+"I am told," she went on, "that my brother gets you to translate the
+letters and cables that he receives from India. Well, it is most
+important that if there be bad news that my son should be informed
+first. Then he will send me a telegram, and as it is not far from here
+to Boulogne I will come at once to comfort my poor brother. The sympathy
+of a sister is deeper than that of a sister-in-law, you understand."
+
+"Certainly, Madame, I understand; at least I think so," said Perrine.
+
+"Then we can count on you?"
+
+Perrine hesitated for a moment, but as she was forced to give a reply
+she said:
+
+"I shall do all that I can for M. Vulfran."
+
+"Yes, and what you do for him will be for us," continued Mme. Bretoneux,
+"the same as what you do for us will be for him. And I am going to show
+you that I am not ungrateful. What would you say if I gave you a very
+nice dress?"
+
+Perrine did not want to say anything, but as she had to make some reply
+to the question she put it into a smile.
+
+"A very beautiful dress to wear in the evening," said Mme. Bretoneux.
+
+"But I am in mourning," answered Perrine.
+
+"But being in black does not prevent you from wearing a lovely dress.
+You are not dressed well enough to dine at my brother's table. You are
+very badly dressed--dressed up like a clever little dog."
+
+Perrine replied that she knew she was not well dressed but she was
+somewhat humiliated to be compared with a clever little dog, and the
+way the comparison was made was an evident intention to lower her.
+
+"I took what I could find at Mme. Lachaise's shop," she said in
+self-defense.
+
+"It was all right for Mme. Lachaise to dress you when you were a little
+factory girl, but now, that it pleases my brother to have you sit at the
+table with him, we do not wish to blush for you. You must not mind us
+making fun of you, but you have no idea how you amused us in that
+dreadful waist you have been wearing...."
+
+Mme. Bretoneux smiled as though she could still see Perrine in the
+hideous waist.
+
+"But there," she said brightly, "all that can be remedied; you are a
+beautiful girl, there is no denying that, and I shall see that you have
+a dinner dress to set off your beauty and a smart little tailored
+costume to wear in the carriage, and when you see yourself in it you
+will remember who gave it you. I expect your underwear is no better than
+your waist. Let me see it...."
+
+Thereupon, with an air of authority, she opened first one drawer, then
+another, then shut them again disdainfully with a shrug of her
+shoulders.
+
+"I thought so," she said, "it is dreadful; not good enough for you."
+
+Perrine felt suffocated; she could not speak.
+
+"It's lucky," continued Mme. Bretoneux, "that I came here, for I intend
+to look after you."
+
+Perrine wanted to refuse everything and tell this woman that she did
+not wish her to take care of her, but remembered the part she had to
+play. After all, Mme. Bretoneux's intentions were most generous; it was
+her words, her manner, that seemed so hard.
+
+"I'll tell my brother," she continued, "that he must order from a
+dressmaker at Amiens, whose address I will give him, the dinner dress
+and the tailor suit which is absolutely necessary, and in addition some
+good underwear. In fact, a whole outfit. Trust in me and you shall have
+some pretty things, and I hope that they'll remind you of me all the
+time. Now don't forget what I have told you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+PAINFUL ARGUMENTS
+
+
+After the talk his mother had had with Perrine, Casimir, by his looks
+and manner, gave her every opportunity to confide in him. But she had no
+intention of telling him about the researches that his uncle was having
+made both in India and in England. True, they had no positive news of
+the exile; it was all vague and contradictory, but the blind man still
+hoped on. He left no stone unturned to find his beloved son.
+
+Mme. Bretoneux's advice had some good effect. Until then Perrine had not
+taken the liberty of having the hood of the phaeton pulled up, if she
+thought the day was chilly, nor had she dared advise M. Vulfran to put
+on an overcoat nor suggest that he have a scarf around his neck; neither
+did she dare close the window in the study if the evening was too cool,
+but from the moment that Mme. Bretoneux had warned her that the damp
+mists and rain would be bad for him she put aside all timidity.
+
+Now, no matter what the weather was like, she never got into the
+carriage without looking to see that his overcoat was in its place and a
+silk scarf in the pocket; if a slight breeze came up she put the scarf
+around his neck or helped him into his coat. If a drop of rain began to
+fall she stopped at once and put up the hood. When she first walked out
+with him, she had gone her usual pace and he had followed without a word
+of complaint. But now that she realized that a brisk walk hurt him and
+usually made him cough or breathe with difficulty, she walked slowly; in
+every way she devised means of going about their usual day's routine so
+that he should feel the least fatigue possible.
+
+Day by day the blind man's affection for little Perrine grew. He was
+never effusive, but one day while she was carefully attending to his
+wants he told her that she was like a little daughter to him. She was
+touched. She took his hand and kissed it.
+
+"Yes," he said, "you are a good girl." Putting his hand on her head, he
+added: "Even when my son returns you shall not leave us; he will be
+grateful to you for what you are to me."
+
+"I am so little, and I want to be so much," she said.
+
+"I will tell him what you have been," said the blind man, "and besides
+he will see for himself; for my son has a good kind heart."
+
+[Illustration: HE TOLD HER THAT SHE WAS LIKE A LITTLE DAUGHTER TO HIM.]
+
+Often he would speak in these terms, and Perrine always wanted to ask
+him how, if these were his sentiments, he could have been so unforgiving
+and severe with him, but every time she tried to speak the words would
+not come, for her throat was closed with emotion. It was a serious
+matter for her to broach such a subject, but on that particular evening
+she felt encouraged by what had happened. There could not have been a
+more opportune moment; she was alone with him in his study where no one
+came unless summoned. She was seated near him under the lamplight. Ought
+she to hesitate longer?
+
+She thought not.
+
+"Do you mind," she said, in a little trembling voice, "if I ask you
+something that I do not understand? I think of it all the time, and yet
+I have been afraid to speak."
+
+"Speak out," he said.
+
+"What I cannot understand," she said timidly, "is that loving your son
+as you do, you could be parted from him."
+
+"It is because you are so young you do not understand," he said, "that
+there is duty as well as love. As a father, it was my duty to send him
+away; that was to teach him a lesson. I had to show him that my will was
+stronger than his. That is why I sent him to India where I intended to
+keep him but a short while. I gave him a position befitting my son and
+heir. He was the representative of my house. Did I know that he would
+marry that miserable creature? He was mad!"
+
+"But Father Fields said that she was not a miserable creature," insisted
+Perrine.
+
+"She was or she would not have contracted a marriage that was not valid
+in France," retorted the blind man, "and I will not recognize her as my
+daughter."
+
+He said this in a tone that made Perrine feel suddenly cold. Then he
+continued abruptly: "You wonder why I am trying to get my son back now,
+if I did not want him back after he had married. Things have changed.
+Conditions are not the same now as then. After fourteen years of this
+so-called marriage my son ought to be tired of this woman and of the
+miserable life that he has been forced to live on account of her.
+Besides conditions for me have also changed. My health is not what it
+was, and I am blind. I cannot recover my sight unless I am operated upon
+and I must be in a calm state favorable to the success of this
+operation. When my son learns this do you think he will hesitate to
+leave this woman? I am willing to support her and her daughter also. I
+am sure many times he has thought of Maraucourt and wanted to return. If
+I love him I know that he also loves me. When he learns the truth he
+will come back at once, you will see."
+
+"Then he would have to leave his wife and daughter?"
+
+"He has no wife nor has he a daughter," said the old man sternly.
+
+"Father Fields says that he was married at the Mission House by Father
+Leclerc," said Perrine.
+
+"This marriage was contracted contrary to the French law," said M.
+Vulfran.
+
+"But was it not lawful in India?" asked Perrine.
+
+"I will have it annulled in Rome," said the blind man.
+
+"But the daughter?"
+
+"The law would not recognize that child."
+
+"Is the law everything?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that it is not the law that makes one love or not love one's
+parents or children. It was not the law that made me love my poor
+father. I loved him because he was good and kind and he loved me. I was
+happy when he kissed me, and smiled at me. I loved him and there was
+nothing that I liked better than to be with him. He loved me because I
+was his little girl and needed his affection; he loved me because he
+knew that I loved him with all my heart. The law had nothing to do with
+that. I did not ask if it was the law that made him my father. It was
+our love that made us so much to each other."
+
+"What are you driving at?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"I beg your pardon if I have said anything I should not say, but I speak
+as I think and as I feel."
+
+"And that is why I am listening to you," said the blind man; "what you
+say is not quite reasonable, but you speak as a good girl would."
+
+"Well, sir, what I am trying to say is this," said Perrine boldly; "if
+you love your son and want to have him back with you, he also loves his
+daughter and wants to have her with him."
+
+"He should not hesitate between his father and his daughter," said the
+old man; "besides, if the marriage is annulled, she will be nothing to
+him. He could soon marry that woman off again with the dowry that I
+would give her. Everything is changed since he went away. My fortune is
+much larger.... He will have riches, honor and position. Surely it isn't
+a little half-caste that can keep him back."
+
+"Perhaps she is not so dreadful as you imagine," said Perrine.
+
+"A Hindu."
+
+"In the books that I read to you it says that the Hindus are more
+beautiful than the Europeans," said Perrine.
+
+"Travelers' exaggerations," said the old man scoffingly.
+
+"They have graceful figures, faces of pure oval, deep eyes with a proud
+look. They are patient, courageous, industrious; they are studious...."
+
+"You have a memory!"
+
+"One should always remember what one reads, should not one?" asked
+Perrine. "It does not seem that the Hindu is such a horrible creature as
+you say."
+
+"Well, what does all that matter to me as I do not know her?"
+
+"But if you knew her you might perhaps get interested in her and learn
+to love her."
+
+"Never! I can't bear to think of her and her mother!..."
+
+"But if you knew her you might not feel so angry towards her."
+
+He clenched his fist as though unable to control his fury, but he did
+not stop her.
+
+"I don't suppose that she is at all like you suppose," said Perrine;
+"Father Fields is a good priest and he would not say what was not true,
+and he says that her mother was good and kind and a lady...."
+
+"He never knew her; it is hearsay."
+
+"But it seems that everyone holds this opinion. If she came to your
+house would you not be as kind to her as you have been to me, ... a
+stranger?"
+
+"Don't say anything against yourself."
+
+"I do not speak for or against myself, but what I ask is for justice. I
+know if that daughter, your granddaughter, came here she would love you
+with all her heart."
+
+She clasped her hands together and looked up at him as though he could
+see her; her voice shook with emotion.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to be loved by your granddaughter?" she asked
+pleadingly.
+
+The blind man rose impatiently.
+
+"I tell you she can never be anything to me," he cried. "I hate her as I
+hate her mother. The woman took my son from me and she keeps him from
+me. If she had not bewitched him he would have been back long before
+this. She has been everything to him while I, his father, have been
+nothing."
+
+He strode back and forth, carried away with his anger. She had never
+seen him like this. Suddenly he stopped before her.
+
+"Go to your room," he said almost harshly, "and never speak of those
+creatures to me again; besides, what right have you to mix up in this?
+Who told you to speak to me in such a manner?"
+
+For a moment she was dumbfounded, then she said:
+
+"Oh, no one, sir, I assure you. I just put myself into your little
+granddaughter's place, that is all."
+
+He softened somewhat, but he continued still in a severe voice: "In the
+future do not speak on this subject; you see it is painful for me and
+you must not annoy me."
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, her voice full of tears; "certainly I
+ought not to have spoken so."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE BLIND MAN'S GRIEF
+
+
+Monsieur Vulfran advertised in the principal newspapers of Calcutta,
+Dacca, Bombay and London for his son. He offered a reward of forty
+pounds to anyone who could furnish any information, however slight it
+might be, about Edmond Paindavoine. The information must, however, be
+authentic. Not wishing to give his own address, which might have brought
+to him all sorts of correspondence more or less dishonest, he put the
+matter into the hands of his banker at Amiens.
+
+Numerous letters were received, but very few were serious; the greater
+number came from detectives who guaranteed to find the person they were
+searching for if the expenses for the first steps necessary could be
+sent them. Other letters promised everything without any foundation
+whatever upon which they based their promises. Others related events
+that had occurred five, ten, twelve years previous; no one kept to the
+time stated in the advertisement, that was the last three years.
+
+Perrine read or translated all these letters for the blind man. He would
+not be discouraged at the meagre indications sent him.
+
+"It is only by continued advertising that we shall get results," he
+said always. Then again he advertised.
+
+Finally, one day a letter from Bosnia gave them some information which
+might lead to something. It was written in bad English, and stated that
+if the advertiser would place the forty pounds promised with a banker at
+Serajevo the writer would furnish authentic information concerning M.
+Edmond Paindavoine going back to the month of November of the preceding
+year. If this proposition was acceptable, the reply was to be sent to N.
+917, General Delivery, Serajevo.
+
+This letter seemed to give M. Vulfran so much relief and joy that it was
+a confession of what his fears had been.
+
+For the first time since he had commenced his investigations, he spoke
+of his son to his two nephews and Talouel.
+
+"I am delighted to tell you that at last I have news of my son," he
+said. "He was in Bosnia last November."
+
+There was great excitement as the news was spread through the various
+towns and villages. As usual under such circumstances, it was
+exaggerated.
+
+"M. Edmond is coming back. He'll be home shortly," went from one to
+another.
+
+"It's not possible!" cried some.
+
+"If you don't believe it," they were told, "you've only to look at
+Talouel's face and M. Vulfran's nephews."
+
+Yet there were some who would not believe that the exile would return.
+The old man had been too hard on him. He had not deserved to be sent
+away to India because he had made a few debts. His own family had cast
+him aside, so he had a little family of his own out in India. Why should
+he come back? And then, even if he was in Bosnia or Turkey, that was not
+to say that he was on his way to Maraucourt. Coming from India to
+France, why should he have to go to Bosnia? It was not on the route.
+
+This remark came from Bendit, who, with his English coolheadedness,
+looked at things only from a practical standpoint, in which sentiment
+played no part. He thought that just because everyone wished for the son
+and heir to return, it was not enough to bring him back. The French
+could wish a thing and believe it, but he was English, he was, and he
+would not believe that he was coming back until he saw him there with
+his own eyes!
+
+Day by day the blind man grew more impatient to see his son. Perrine
+could not bear to hear him talk of his return as a certainty. Many times
+she tried to tell him that he might be disappointed. One day, when she
+could bear it no longer, she begged him in her sweet voice not to count
+too much upon seeing his son for fear something might still keep him
+away.
+
+The blind man asked her what she meant.
+
+"It is so terrible to hear the worst when one has been expecting the
+best," she said brokenly. "If I say this it is because that is just what
+happened to me. We had thought and hoped so much when my father was ill
+that he would get better, but we lost him, and poor mama and I did not
+know how to bear it. We would not think that he might die."
+
+"Ah, but my boy is alive, and he will be here soon. He will come back to
+me very soon," said the old man in a firm voice.
+
+The next day the banker from Amiens called at the factory. He was met at
+the steps by Talouel, who did all in his power to get the first
+information which he knew the banker was bringing. At first his attitude
+was very obsequious, but when he saw that his advances were repulsed,
+and that the visitor insisted upon seeing his employer at once, he
+pointed rudely in the direction of M. Vulfran's office and said:
+
+"You will find him over there in that room," and then turned and went
+off with his hands in his pockets.
+
+The banker knocked on the door indicated.
+
+"Come in," called out M. Vulfran, in answer to his knock.
+
+"What, you ... you at Maraucourt!" he exclaimed when he saw his visitor.
+
+"Yes, I had some business to attend to at Picquigny, and I came on here
+to bring you some news received from Bosnia."
+
+Perrine sat at her little table. She had gone very white; she seemed
+like one struck dumb.
+
+"Well?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"It is not what you hoped, what we all hoped," said the banker quietly.
+
+"You mean that that fellow who wrote just wanted to get hold of the
+forty pounds."
+
+"Oh, no; he seems an honest man...."
+
+"Then he knows nothing?"
+
+"He does, but unfortunately his information is only too true."
+
+"Unfortunately!" gasped the blind man. This was the first word of doubt
+that he had uttered. "You mean," he added, "that they have no more news
+of him since last November?"
+
+"There is no news since then. The French Consul at Serajevo, Bosnia, has
+sent me this information:
+
+"'Last November your son arrived at Serajevo practising the trade of a
+strolling photographer....'"
+
+"What do you mean?" exclaimed M. Vulfran. "A strolling photographer!...
+My son?"
+
+"He had a wagon," continued the banker, "a sort of caravan in which he
+traveled with his wife and child. He used to take pictures on the market
+squares where they stopped...."
+
+The banker paused and glanced at some papers he held in his hand.
+
+"Oh, you have something to read, haven't you?" said the blind man as he
+heard the paper rustle. "Read, it will be quicker."
+
+"He plied the trade of a photographer," continued the banker, consulting
+his notes, "and at the beginning of November he left Serajevo for
+Travnik, where he fell ill. He became very ill...."
+
+"My God!" cried the blind man. "Oh, God...."
+
+M. Vulfran had clasped his hands; he was trembling from head to foot, as
+though a vision of his son was standing before him.
+
+"You must have courage," said the banker, gently. "You need all your
+courage. Your son...."
+
+"He is dead!" said the blind man.
+
+"That is only too true," replied the banker. "All the papers are
+authentic. I did not want to have any doubt upon the matter, and that
+was why I cabled to our Consul at Serajevo. Here is his reply; it leaves
+no doubt."
+
+But the old man did not appear to be listening. He sat huddled up in his
+big chair, his head drooped forward on his chest. He gave no sign of
+life. Perrine, terrified, wondered if he were dead.
+
+Then suddenly he pulled himself together and the tears began to run down
+his wrinkled cheeks. He brushed them aside quickly and touched the
+electric bell which communicated with Talouel's and his nephew's
+offices.
+
+The call was so imperative that they all ran to the office together.
+
+"You are there?" asked the blind man; "Talouel, Theodore and Casimir?"
+
+All three replied together.
+
+"I have just learned of the death of my son," said their employer. "Stop
+work in all the factories immediately. Tomorrow the funeral services
+will be held in the churches at Maraucourt, Saint-Pipoy and all the
+other villages."
+
+"Oh, uncle!" cried both the nephews.
+
+He stopped them with uplifted hand.
+
+"I wish to be alone ... leave me," was all he said.
+
+Everyone left the room but Perrine. She alone remained.
+
+"Aurelie, are you there?" asked the blind man.
+
+She replied with a sob.
+
+"Let us go home," he said.
+
+As was his habit, he placed his hand on her shoulder, and it was like
+this that they passed through the crowd of workers who streamed from the
+factory. As they stood aside for him to pass, all who saw him wondered
+if he would survive this blow. He, who usually walked so upright, was
+bent like a tree that the storm has broken.
+
+Could he survive this shock? Perrine asked herself this question with
+even greater agony, for it was she and she alone who knew how his great
+frame was trembling. His shaking hands grasped her shoulder
+convulsively, and without him uttering one word little Perrine knew how
+deeply her grandfather was smitten.
+
+After she had guided him into his study he sent her away.
+
+"Explain why I wish to be left alone. No one is to come in here. No one
+is to speak to me....
+
+"And I refused to believe you," he murmured as she was leaving him.
+
+"Oh, please; if you will let me...."
+
+"Leave me," he said roughly.
+
+Perrine closed the door softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+AN UNRESPECTED FUNERAL
+
+
+There was considerable bustle and excitement at the chateau all that
+evening. First M. and Mme. Stanislas Paindavoine, who had received a
+telegram from Theodore, arrived. Then M. and Mme. Bretoneux, sent for by
+Casimir, came. After that came Mme. Bretoneux's two daughters, their
+husbands and children. No one wished to miss the funeral service for
+poor dear Edmond.
+
+Besides, this was the decisive moment for clever manoeuvring. What a
+disaster if this big industry should fall into the hands of one so
+incapable as Theodore! What a misfortune if Casimir took charge! Neither
+side thought that a partnership could be possible, and the two cousins
+share alike. Each wanted all for himself.
+
+Both Mme. Bretoneux and Mme. Paindavoine had ignored Perrine since their
+arrival. They had given her to understand that they did not require her
+services any longer.
+
+She sat in her room hoping that M. Vulfran would send for her so that
+she could help him into the church, as she had done every Sunday since
+William had gone. But she waited in vain. When the bells, which had
+been tolling since the evening before, announced mass, she saw him get
+up into his carriage leaning on his brother's arm, while his sister and
+sister-in-law, with the members of their families, took their places in
+other carriages.
+
+She had no time to lose, for she had to walk. She hurried off.
+
+After she had left the house over which Death had spread its shroud, she
+was surprised to notice as she hastened through the village that the
+taverns had taken on their Sunday air. The men drank and laughed and the
+women chatted at their doors, while the children played in the street.
+Perrine wondered if none of them were going to attend the service.
+
+Upon entering the church, where she had been afraid that she would not
+find room, she saw that it was almost empty. The bereaved family sat in
+the choir; here and there was some village authority, a tradesman and
+the heads of the factories. Very few of the working men and women were
+present; they had not thought to come and join their prayers to those of
+their employer.
+
+Perrine took a seat beside Rosalie and her grandmother, who was in deep
+mourning.
+
+"Alas! my poor little Edmond," murmured the old nurse, wiping her eyes.
+"What did M. Vulfran say?"
+
+But Perrine was too overcome to reply. The services commenced.
+
+As she left the church, Mlle. Belhomme came up to her, and, like
+Francoise, wanted to question her about M. Vulfran. Perrine told her
+that he had not spoken to her since the evening before.
+
+"As I saw him kneeling there so crushed and broken for the first time, I
+was pleased that he was blind," said the governess sadly.
+
+"Why?" asked Perrine.
+
+"Because he could not see how few people came to the church. What
+indifference his men have shown! If he could have seen that empty church
+it would have added to his grief."
+
+"I think he must have known how few there were there," said Perrine.
+"His ears take the place of his eyes, and that empty silence could not
+deceive him."
+
+"Poor man," murmured Mlle. Belhomme; "and yet...."
+
+She paused. Then, as she was not in the habit of holding anything back,
+she went on: "And yet it will be a great lesson to him. You know, my
+child, you cannot expect others to share your sorrows if you are not
+willing to share theirs.
+
+"M. Vulfran gives his men what he considers their due," she continued,
+in a lower voice. "He is just, but that is all. He has never been a
+father to his men. He is all for business, business only. What a lot of
+good he could have done, however, not only here, but everywhere, if he
+had wished, by setting an example. Had he been more to his men you may
+be sure that the church would not have been as empty as it was today."
+
+Perhaps that was true, but how it hurt Perrine to hear this from the
+lips of her governess, of whom she was so fond. If anyone else had said
+so she might not have felt it so deeply. Yes, undoubtedly it was too
+true.
+
+They had been walking as they talked, and had now reached the schools
+where Mlle. Belhomme lived.
+
+"Come in and we'll have luncheon together," she said. She was thinking
+that her pupil would not be allowed to take her accustomed place at the
+family table.
+
+"Oh, thank you," said Perrine; "but M. Vulfran might need me."
+
+"Well, in that case you had better go back," said Mlle. Belhomme.
+
+When she reached the chateau she saw that M. Vulfran had no need of her,
+that he was not even thinking of her. Bastien, whom she met on the
+stairs, told her that when he came back from the church he had gone to
+his own room and locked himself in, forbidding anyone to enter.
+
+"He won't even sit down on a day like this with his family," said
+Bastien, "and they are all going after luncheon. I don't think he even
+wants to say goodbye to them. Lord help us! What will become of us? Oh,
+poor master!"
+
+"What can I do?" asked Perrine.
+
+"You can do a great deal. The master believes in you, and he's mighty
+fond of you."
+
+"Mighty fond of me?" echoed Perrine.
+
+"Yes, and it's I as says it," said the butler. "He likes you a whole
+lot."
+
+As Bastien had said, all the family left after luncheon. Perrine stayed
+in her room, but M. Vulfran did not send for her. Just before she went
+to bed, Bastien came to tell her that his master wished her to accompany
+him the next morning at the usual hour.
+
+"He wants to get back to work, but will he be able?" said the old
+butler. "It will be better for him if he can. Work means life for him."
+
+The next day at the usual hour Perrine was waiting for M. Vulfran. With
+bent back he came forward, guided by Bastien. The butler made a sign to
+her that his master had passed a bad night.
+
+"Is Aurelie there?" asked the blind man in a changed voice, a voice low
+and weak, like that of a sick child.
+
+Perrine went forward quickly.
+
+"I am here, M. Vulfran," she said.
+
+"Let us get into the carriage, Aurelie," he said.
+
+As soon as he had taken his place beside Perrine his head drooped on his
+chest. He said not a word.
+
+At the foot of the office steps Talouel was there ready to receive him
+and help him to alight.
+
+"I suppose you felt strong enough to come?" he said, in a sympathetic
+voice which contrasted with the flash in his eyes.
+
+"I did not feel at all strong, but I came because I thought that I ought
+to come," said his employer.
+
+"That is what I meant ... I...."
+
+M. Vulfran stopped him and told Perrine to guide him to his office.
+
+The mail, which had accumulated in two days, was read, but the blind man
+made no comments on the correspondence. It was as though he were deaf or
+asleep. The heads of the factory then came in to discuss an important
+question that had to be settled that day. When the immediate business
+was settled Perrine was left alone with the blind man. He was silent.
+
+Time passed; he did not move. She had often seen him sit still, but on
+such occasions, from the expression on his face, she had known that he
+was following his work as though he were watching with his eyes. He
+listened to the whistle of the engines, the rolling of the trucks; he
+was attentive to every sound and seemed to know exactly what was going
+on, but now he seemed as though he were turned into a statue. There was
+no expression in his face and he was so silent. He did not seem to be
+breathing. Perrine was overcome by a sort of terror. She moved uneasily
+in her chair; she did not dare speak to him.
+
+Suddenly he put his two hands over his face and, as though unaware that
+anyone was present, he cried: "My God! my God! you have forsaken me! Oh,
+Lord, what have I done that you should forsake me!"
+
+Then the heavy silence fell again. Perrine trembled when she heard his
+cry, although she could not grasp the depth of his despair.
+
+Everything that this man had attempted had been a success; he had
+triumphed over his rivals; but now, with one blow, that which he wanted
+most had been snatched from him. He had been waiting for his son; their
+meeting, after so many years of absence, he had pictured to himself, and
+then....
+
+Then what?
+
+"My God," cried the blind man again, "why have you taken him from me?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE ANGEL OF REFORM
+
+
+As the days passed M. Vulfran became very weak. At last he was confined
+to his room with a serious attack of bronchitis, and the entire
+management of the works was given over to Talouel, who was triumphant.
+
+When he recovered he was in such a state of apathy that it was alarming.
+They could not rouse him; nothing seemed to interest him, not even his
+business. Previously they had feared the effect a shock would have on
+his system, but now the doctors desired it, for it seemed that only a
+great shock could drag him out of this terrible condition. What could
+they do?
+
+After a time he returned to his business, but he scarcely took account
+of what Talouel had done during his absence. His manager, however, had
+been too clever and shrewd to take any steps that his employer would not
+have taken himself.
+
+Every day Perrine took him to his various factories, but the drives were
+made in silence now. Frequently he did not reply to the remarks she made
+from time to time, and when he reached the works he scarcely listened to
+what his men had to say.
+
+"Do what you think best," he said always. "Arrange the matter with
+Talouel."
+
+How long would this apathy last?
+
+One afternoon, when old Coco was bringing them back to Maraucourt, they
+heard a bell ringing.
+
+"Stop," he said; "I think that's the fire alarm."
+
+Perrine stopped the horse.
+
+"Yes, it's a fire," he said, listening. "Do you see anything?"
+
+"I can see a lot of black smoke over by the poplars on the left,"
+replied Perrine.
+
+"On the left? That is the way to the factory."
+
+"Yes; shall I drive that way?" asked Perrine.
+
+"Yes," replied M. Vulfran, indifferently.
+
+It was not until they reached the village that they knew where the fire
+was.
+
+"Don't hurry, M. Vulfran," called out a peasant; "the fire ain't in your
+house. It's La Tiburce's house that's on fire."
+
+La Tiburce was a drunken creature who minded little babies who were too
+young to be taken to the creche. She lived in a miserable tumble-down
+house near the schools.
+
+"Let us go there," said M. Vulfran.
+
+They had only to follow the crowd, for the people, when they saw the
+flames and smoke rising, were running excitedly to the spot where the
+fire was. Before reaching the scene Perrine had to stop several times
+for fear of running someone down. Nothing in the world would have made
+the people get out of their way. Finally M. Vulfran got out of the
+carriage and, guided by Perrine, walked through the crowd. As they
+neared the entrance to the house, Fabry, wearing a helmet, for he was
+chief of the firemen, came up to them.
+
+"We've got it under control," he said, "but the house is entirely burnt,
+and what's worse, several children, five or six, perhaps, are lost. One
+is buried beneath, two have been suffocated, and we don't know where the
+other three are."
+
+"How did it happen?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"La Tiburce was asleep, drunk. She is still in that condition. The
+biggest of the children were playing with the matches. When the fire
+began to flare up some of the children got out, and La Tiburce woke up.
+She is so drunk she got out herself but left the little ones in the
+cradle."
+
+The sound of cries and loud talking could be heard in the yard. M.
+Vulfran wanted to go in.
+
+"Don't go in there, sir," said Fabry. "The mothers whose two children
+were suffocated are carrying on pretty badly."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"Two women who work in your factory."
+
+"I must speak to them."
+
+Leaning on Perrine's shoulder, he told her to guide him. Preceded by
+Fabry, who made way for them, they went into the yard where the firemen
+were turning the hose on the house as the flames burst forth in a
+crackling sound.
+
+In a far-off corner several women stood round the two mothers who were
+crying. Fabry brushed aside the group. M. Vulfran went up to the
+bereaved parents, who sat with their dead children on their knees. Then
+one of the women, who thought perhaps that a supreme help had come,
+looked up with a gleam of hope in her eyes. When she recognized M.
+Vulfran she raised her arm to him threateningly.
+
+"Ah," she cried, "come and see for yourself what they do to our babies
+while we are sweating and killing ourselves for you. Can you give us
+back their lives? Oh, my little boy."
+
+She burst into sobs as she bent over her child.
+
+M. Vulfran hesitated for a moment; then he turned to Fabry and said:
+
+"You are right; let us go."
+
+They returned to the offices. After a time Talouel came to tell his
+employer that out of the six children that they had thought were dead,
+three had been found in the homes of neighbors, where they had been
+carried when the fire first broke out. The burial for the other three
+tiny victims was to take place the next day.
+
+When Talouel had gone, Perrine, who had been very thoughtful, decided to
+speak to M. Vulfran.
+
+"Are you not going to the burial service of these little babies?" she
+asked. Her trembling voice betrayed her emotion.
+
+"Why should I go?" asked M. Vulfran.
+
+"Because that would be the most dignified answer you could give to what
+that poor woman said."
+
+"Did my work people come to the burial service of my son?" asked M.
+Vulfran, coldly.
+
+"They did not share your sorrow," said Perrine gravely, "but if you
+share theirs now they will be touched."
+
+"You don't know how ungrateful the workingman is."
+
+"Ungrateful! For what? The money they receive? They consider that they
+have a right to the money they earn. It is theirs. Would they show
+ingratitude if an interest was taken in them, if a little friendly help
+was given them? Perhaps it would not be the same, do you think so?
+Friendship creates friendship. One often loves when one knows one is
+loved, and it seems to me that when we are friendly to others, we make
+friends ourselves. It means so much to lighten the burdens of the poor,
+but how much more is it to lighten their sorrows ... by helping to share
+them."
+
+It seemed to her that she had still so much to say on this subject, but
+M. Vulfran did not reply. He did not even appear to be listening to her,
+and she was afraid to say more. Later she might make another attempt.
+
+As they left the office M. Vulfran turned to Talouel, who was standing
+on the steps, and said:
+
+"Tell the priest to arrange a suitable burial for the three children. It
+will be at my expense and I shall be there."
+
+Talouel jumped.
+
+"And let everyone know," continued M. Vulfran, "that all who wish to go
+to the church tomorrow, can take the time off. This fire is a great
+misfortune."
+
+"We are not responsible for it," said Talouel.
+
+"Not directly ... no," said M. Vulfran.
+
+Perrine had another surprise the next morning. After the mail had been
+opened and the replies dictated, M. Vulfran detained Fabry and said: "I
+want you to start for Rouen. I think you can spare the time. I have
+heard that they have built a model creche there. It is not built by the
+town, but someone has had it built to the memory of one whom they have
+lost. I want you to see how this is made. Study it in all its
+details--the construction, heating and ventilation and the expense of
+keeping it up. In three months we must have a creche at the entrance of
+all my factories. I don't want such a calamity as that which occurred
+yesterday to take place again. I rely upon you and the responsibility is
+upon you now."
+
+That evening Perrine told the great news to her governess, who was
+delighted. While they were talking about it, M. Vulfran came into the
+room.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "I have come to ask a favor of you in the name
+of all the village. It is a big favor. It may mean a great sacrifice on
+your part. This is it."
+
+In a few words he outlined the request he had to make. It was that
+mademoiselle should send in her resignation at the schools and take
+charge of the five creches which he was going to build. He knew of no
+one who was capable of taking on their shoulders such a big burden. He
+would donate a creche to each village and endow it with sufficient
+capital to keep up its maintenance.
+
+Although Mlle. Belhomme loved to teach, and it would be indeed a
+sacrifice for her to give up her school, she felt, after she had talked
+with the blind man, that it was here where her duty lay. It was indeed a
+great work that she was called upon to do, and she would enter upon her
+task with all the enthusiasm of which her big heart was capable.
+
+"This is a great thing you are doing, Monsieur Vulfran," she said, with
+tears in her eyes, "and I will do all I can to make this work a
+success."
+
+"It is your pupil one must thank for it," said the blind man, "not I.
+Her words and suggestions have awakened something in my heart. I have
+stepped out on a new road. I am only at the first steps. It is nothing
+compared with what I intend to do."
+
+"Oh, please," said Perrine, her eyes bright with delight and pride, "if
+you still want to do something...."
+
+"What is it?" he asked with a smile.
+
+"I want to take you somewhere ... tonight."
+
+"What do you mean? Where do you want to take me?" asked the blind man,
+mystified.
+
+"To a place where your presence only for a few moments will bring about
+extraordinary results," said Perrine.
+
+"Well, can't you tell me where this mysterious place is?" asked M.
+Vulfran.
+
+"But if I tell you, your visit will not have the same effect. It will be
+a failure. It will be a fine evening and warm, and I am sure that you
+will not take cold. Please say you will go!"
+
+"I think one could have confidence in her," said Mademoiselle Belhomme,
+"although her request seems a little strange and childish."
+
+"Well," said M. Vulfran, indulgently, "I'll do as you wish, Aurelie. Now
+at what hour are we to start on this adventure?"
+
+"The later it is the better it will be," said Perrine.
+
+During the evening he spoke several times of the outing they were to
+have, but Perrine would not explain.
+
+"Do you know, little girl, you have aroused my curiosity?" he said at
+last.
+
+"I am glad you are interested," she said gravely. "There is so much that
+can be done in the future. Do not look back to the past any more."
+
+"The future is empty for me," said the blind man bitterly.
+
+"Oh, no; it is not," said Perrine, lifting her lovely face to his. Her
+eyes were shining with a beautiful light. "It will not be empty if you
+think of others. When one is a child, and not very happy, one often
+thinks that if a wonderful fairy came to them, of what beautiful things
+they would ask. But if one is the fairy, or rather the magician oneself,
+and can do all the wonderful things alone, wouldn't it be splendid to
+use one's power?..."
+
+The evening passed. Several times the blind man asked if it were not
+time to start, but Perrine delayed as long as possible.
+
+At last she said that she thought they could start. The night was warm,
+no breeze, no mists. The atmosphere was a trifle heavy and the sky dark.
+
+When they reached the village it was all quiet. All seemed to sleep. Not
+a light shone from the windows.
+
+The dark night made no difference to the blind man. As they walked along
+the road from the chateau he knew exactly where he was.
+
+"We must be nearing Francoise's house," he said, after they had walked a
+little distance.
+
+"That is just where we are going," said Perrine. "We are there now. Let
+me take your hand and guide you, and please don't speak. We have some
+stairs to go up, but they are quite easy and straight. When we get to
+the top of these stairs I shall open a door and we shall go into a room
+for just one moment."
+
+"What do you want me to see ... when I can't see anything?" he said.
+
+"There will be no need for you to see," replied Perrine.
+
+"Then why come?"
+
+"I want you here," said Perrine earnestly. "Here are the stairs. Now
+step up, please."
+
+They climbed up the stairs and Perrine opened a door and gently drew M.
+Vulfran inside a room and closed the door again.
+
+They stood in a suffocating, evil-smelling room.
+
+"Who is there?" asked a weary voice.
+
+Pressing his hand, Perrine warned M. Vulfran not to speak.
+
+The same voice spoke:
+
+"Get into bed, La Noyelle. How late you are."
+
+This time M. Vulfran clasped Perrine's hand in a sign for them to leave
+the place.
+
+She opened the door and they went down, while a murmur of voices
+accompanied them. When they reached the street M. Vulfran spoke: "You
+wanted me to know what that room was the first night when you slept
+there?"
+
+"I wanted you to know what kind of a place all the women who work for
+you have to sleep in. They are all alike in Maraucourt and the other
+villages. You have stood in one of these dreadful rooms; all the others
+are like it. Think of your women and children, your factory hands, who
+are breathing that poisoned air. They are slowly dying. They are almost
+all weak and sick."
+
+M. Vulfran was silent. He did not speak again, neither did Perrine. When
+they entered the hall he bade her good night, and guided by Bastien, he
+went to his own room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+GRANDFATHER FINDS PERRINE
+
+
+One year had passed since Perrine had arrived at Maraucourt on that
+radiant Sunday morning. What a miserable lonely little girl she had been
+then.
+
+The day was just as radiant now, but what a change in Perrine, and, be
+it said, in the whole village also. She was now a lovely girl of
+fifteen. She knew she was loved and loved for herself, and this is what
+gave the deep look of happiness to her eyes.
+
+And the village! No one would have recognized it now. There were new
+buildings, pretty cottages, and a hospital commanding a view of the
+surrounding country. Near the factories were two handsome red brick
+buildings. These were the creches where the little children, whose
+mothers were working in the factories, were kept. All the little
+children had their meals there, and many of them slept there. It was a
+home for them.
+
+M. Vulfran had bought up all the old houses, the tumble-down hovels and
+huts, and had built new cottages in their places. There was a large
+restaurant built where the men and women could get a dinner for eleven
+cents, the meal consisting of a soup, stew or roast, bread and cider.
+
+Every little cottage, for which the tenant paid one hundred francs a
+year, had its own tiny garden in which to grow vegetables for the
+family.
+
+In the road leading to the chateau there was now a fine recreation
+ground, which was greatly patronized after the factories had closed.
+There were merry-go-rounds, swings, bowling alleys and a stand for the
+musicians who played every Saturday and Sunday, and of course on every
+holiday. This public park of amusement was used by the people of all
+five villages. Monsieur Vulfran had thought it better to have one place
+of reunion and recreation. If his people all met together to enjoy their
+leisure hours, it would establish good relations and a bond of
+friendship between them. At the end of the grounds there was a fine
+library with a reading and writing room.
+
+M. Vulfran's relations thought that he had gone mad. Did he intend to
+ruin himself? That is to say, ruin them? Some steps ought to be taken to
+prevent him from spending his fortune in this manner. His fondness for
+that girl was a proof that he was losing his mind. That girl did not
+know what she was doing! All their animosity was centered on her. What
+did it matter to her that his fortune was being thrown away? But if
+Perrine had all the relations against her, she knew that she had M.
+Vulfran's friendship, and the family doctor, Doctor Ruchon, Mlle.
+Belhomme and Fabry all adored her. Since the doctor had seen that it
+was the "little girl" who had been the means of his patient exerting
+this wonderful moral and intellectual energy, his attitude to her
+expressed the greatest respect and affection. In the doctor's eyes,
+Perrine was a wonderful little girl.
+
+"She can do a great deal more than I can," he said, shaking his gray
+head.
+
+And Mlle. Belhomme, how proud she was of her pupil! As to Fabry, he was
+on the best of terms with her. He had been so closely connected with her
+in the good work that had been done, for Fabry had superintended
+everything.
+
+It was half-past twelve. Fabry had not yet arrived. M. Vulfran, usually
+so calm, was getting impatient. Luncheon was over and he had gone into
+his study with Perrine; every now and again he walked to the window and
+listened.
+
+"The train must be late," he murmured.
+
+Perrine wanted to keep him away from the window, for there were many
+things going on outside in the park about which she did not wish him to
+know. With unusual activity, the gardeners were putting great pots of
+flowers on the steps and in front of the house. Flags were flying from
+the recreation grounds, which could be seen from the windows.
+
+At last the wheels of a carriage were heard on the drive.
+
+"There's Fabry," said M. Vulfran. His voice expressed anxiety, but
+pleasure at the same time.
+
+Fabry came in quickly. He also appeared to be in a somewhat excited
+state. He gave a look at Perrine which made her feel uneasy without
+knowing why.
+
+"I got your telegram," said M. Vulfran, "but it was so vague. I want to
+be sure. Speak out."
+
+"Shall I speak before mademoiselle?" asked Fabry, glancing at Perrine.
+
+"Yes, if it is as you say."
+
+It was the first time that Fabry had asked if he could speak before
+Perrine. In the state of mind in which she was suddenly thrown, this
+precaution only made her the more anxious.
+
+"The person whom we had lost trace of," said Fabry, without looking at
+Perrine, "came on to Paris. There she died. Here is a copy of the death
+certificate. It is in the name of Marie Doressany, widow of Edmond
+Vulfran Paindavoine."
+
+With trembling hands the blind man took the paper.
+
+"Shall I read it to you?" asked Fabry.
+
+"No, if you have verified the names we will attend to that later. Go
+on."
+
+"I not only got the certificate; I wanted to question the man whom they
+call Grain-of-Salt. She died in a room in his house. Then I saw all
+those who were present at the poor woman's funeral. There was a street
+singer called the Baroness and an old shoemaker called Carp. It was the
+miserable existence which she had been forced to live that had finally
+killed her. I even saw the doctor who attended her, Dr. Cendrier. He
+wanted her to go to the hospital, but she would not be parted from her
+daughter. Finally, to complete my investigations, they sent me to a
+woman who buys rags and bones. Her name is La Rouquerie. I could not see
+her until yesterday, as she had been out in the country."
+
+Fabry paused. Then for the first time he turned to Perrine and bowed
+respectfully.
+
+"I saw Palikare, mademoiselle," he said. "He is looking very well."
+
+Perrine had risen to her feet. For some moments she stood listening,
+dazed. Then her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"I then had to find out what had become of the little daughter,"
+continued Fabry. "This ragpicker told me that she had met her in the
+Chantilly woods and that she was dying of hunger. It was her own donkey
+that she sold to the ragpicker who found her."
+
+"Tell me," cried M. Vulfran, turning his sightless eyes towards Perrine,
+who was trembling from head to foot, "why this little girl did not say
+who she was? You understand how deeply a little girl can feel, so can
+you explain this?"
+
+Perrine took a few steps towards him.
+
+"Tell me why she does not come into my arms ... her grandfather's arms."
+
+"Oh, grandpapa," cried Perrine, throwing her arms about his neck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE GRATEFUL PEOPLE
+
+
+Fabry had left the room, leaving the grandfather and his granddaughter
+together. For a long time the old man and the girl sat with their arms
+about each other. They only spoke now and again, just to exchange a word
+of affection.
+
+"My little granddaughter ... my boy's little girl," murmured the blind
+man, stroking her curls.
+
+"My grandpapa," murmured Perrine, rubbing her soft cheek against his.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" he asked at last.
+
+"But didn't I try several times?" replied Perrine. "Do you remember what
+you said to me the last time I spoke of dear mother and myself. You
+said: 'Understand, never speak to me again of those wretched
+creatures.'"
+
+"But could I guess that you were my granddaughter?" he said.
+
+"If I had come straight to you, don't you think you would have driven me
+away and not have listened to me?" asked Perrine.
+
+"Ah," said the blind man, sadly, "who knows what I would have done!"
+
+"I thought so," said Perrine, "and I thought it best not to let you
+know me until, like mama said, 'you would get to love me.'"
+
+"And you have waited so long, and you had so many proofs of my
+affection."
+
+"But was it the affection of a grandfather? I did not dare think so,"
+said Perrine.
+
+"When I began to suspect that you were my son's child, I then quickly
+got positive proofs, and I gave you every chance to tell me that you
+were. Finally I employed Fabry, who, with his investigations, forced you
+to throw yourself into my arms. If you had spoken sooner, my little
+darling, you would have spared me many doubts."
+
+"Yes," said Perrine sweetly, "but we are so happy now, and doesn't that
+prove that what I did was all for the best?"
+
+"Well, all is well. We will leave it at that. Now tell me all about your
+father ... my boy."
+
+"I cannot speak to you of my father without speaking of my mother," said
+Perrine gravely. "They both loved me so much, and I loved them just the
+same."
+
+"My little girl," said the blind man, "what Fabry has just told me of
+her has touched me deeply. She refused to go to the hospital where she
+might have been cured because she would not leave you alone in
+Paris...."
+
+"Oh, yes; you would have loved her," cried Perrine; "my darling mother."
+
+"Talk to me about her," said the old man, "about them both."
+
+"Yes," said Perrine; "I will make you know her and then you will love
+her."
+
+Perrine told about their life before they lost all their money; then
+about their travels through the various countries and the wanderings
+over the mountains; then of her father's illness and his death, and how
+she and her sick mother journeyed through France with the hope that they
+could reach Maraucourt in time before the sick woman died.
+
+While they were talking they could hear vague sounds outside in the
+garden.
+
+"What is the matter out there?" asked M. Vulfran. Perrine went to the
+window. The lawns and drive were black with a crowd of men, women and
+children. They were dressed in their Sunday clothes; many of them
+carried banners and flags. This crowd, between six and seven thousand
+people, reached outside the grounds to the public park, and the murmur
+of their voices had reached the ears of the blind man and had turned his
+attention from Perrine's story, great though it was.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"It is your birthday today," said Perrine, smiling, "and all your men
+are here to celebrate it and to thank you for all you have done for them
+and their families."
+
+"Oh!..."
+
+The blind man walked to the window as though he could see them. He was
+recognized and a murmur ran through the crowd.
+
+"_Mon Dieu_," he murmured, "how terrible they would be if they were
+against us." For the first time he realized the strength of the masses
+which he controlled.
+
+"Yes," said Perrine, "but they are with us because we are with them."
+
+"Yes, little girl, and it is all due to you," he replied. "This is very
+different from the day when the service for your dear father was held in
+that empty church."
+
+"Yes, they are all here now," said Perrine, "and this is the Order of
+the Day, grandpapa dear: I am to guide you to the steps exactly at two
+o'clock. From there everyone will be able to see you. A man representing
+each village where you have your factories will come up the steps, and
+fatherly old Gathoye in the name of all is to make a speech."
+
+At this moment the clock struck two.
+
+"Now give me your hand, grandpapa, dear," said Perrine.
+
+They reached the top of the steps and a great cheer broke out. Then the
+dear old Gathoye, who was the oldest employe, came forward alone. He was
+followed by the five delegates. Ten times the old man had been made to
+go over his speech that morning.
+
+"Monsieur Vulfran, sir," he began, "it is to wish you ... it is to
+congratulate you ... to congratulate you on...."
+
+Here he stopped short and began gesticulating with his hands, and the
+crowd, who saw his eloquent gestures, thought that he making an
+elaborate speech.
+
+After some vain efforts, during which he scratched his head several
+times, he said: "This is how it is: I had a fine speech all ready, but
+I've gone and forgot all I got to say. I had to congratulate you and
+thank you in the name of all from the bottom of our hearts...."
+
+He raised his hand solemnly.
+
+"I swear that's so on the faith of your oldest employe, Gathoye."
+
+Although the speech was very incoherent, nevertheless it touched M.
+Vulfran deeply. With his hand on Perrine's shoulder, he moved forward to
+the balustrade. There all could see him from below.
+
+"My friends," he called out in a loud voice, "your sincere kind wishes
+give me the greatest pleasure, all the more so as you bring them to me
+on the happiest day of my life, the day when I have found my little
+granddaughter, the daughter of my only son whom I have lost. You know
+her; you have seen her at the factory. She will go on with the work we
+have already begun, and I promise you that your future, and your
+children's future, is in good hands."
+
+Thereupon he leaned down towards Perrine and before she could protest he
+lifted her up in his arms that were still strong, and presented her to
+the crowd, then kissed her tenderly.
+
+Then a deafening cheer rang out. It was continued for several minutes.
+Cheers came from the mouths of seven thousand men, women and children.
+Then, as the Order of the Day had been previously arranged, a line was
+formed and in single file they passed before their old chief and his
+granddaughter. With a bow and a hearty wish each man passed by.
+
+"Ah, grandpapa, if you could only see their kind faces!" cried Perrine.
+
+But there were some faces that were not exactly radiant. The two nephews
+certainly looked very glum when, after the ceremony, they came up to
+their cousin to offer their congratulations.
+
+"As for me," said Talouel, who did not mean to lose any time in paying
+court to the young heiress, "I had always supposed...."
+
+The excitement of the day proved too much for M. Vulfran. The doctor was
+called in.
+
+"You can understand, doctor," said the blind man anxiously, "how much I
+want to see my little granddaughter. You must get me into a state so
+that I can have this operation."
+
+"That is just it," said the doctor cheerily, "you must not have all this
+excitement. You must be perfectly calm. Now that this beautiful weather
+has come, you must go out, but you must keep quiet, and I guarantee that
+as soon as your cough has gone we shall be able to have a successful
+operation."
+
+And the doctor's words came true. A month after M. Vulfran's birthday
+two specialists came down from Paris to perform the operation.
+
+When they wished to put him under an anesthetic he refused.
+
+"If my granddaughter will have the courage to hold my hand," he said,
+"you will see that I will be brave. Is it very painful?"
+
+They would use cocaine to alleviate the pain.
+
+The operation was over. Then came five or six days of waiting. The
+patient was kept in a dark room. Then at last the grandfather was
+allowed to see his little granddaughter.
+
+"Ah, if I had only had my eyes," he cried as he gazed at Perrine's
+beautiful little face, "I should have recognized her at the first
+glance. What fools! Couldn't anyone have seen the likeness to her
+father? This time Talouel would have been right if he had said that he
+'supposed'...."
+
+They did not let him use his eyes for long. Again the bandage was put on
+and was kept on for thirty days. Then one of the oculists who had
+remained at the chateau went up to Paris to select the glasses which
+would enable him to read and see at a distance.
+
+What M. Vulfran desired most, now that he had seen Perrine's sweet face,
+was to go out and see his works, but this needed great precaution, and
+the trip had to be postponed for a time, for he did not wish to be
+closed up in a landau with the windows up, but to use his old phaeton
+and be driven by Perrine and show himself with her everywhere. For that
+they had to wait for a warm, sunny day.
+
+At last the day they wanted came. The sky was blue, the air soft and
+warm. After luncheon Perrine gave the order to Bastien for the phaeton
+with old Coco to be at the door.
+
+"Yes, at once, mademoiselle," he said with a smile.
+
+Perrine was surprised at the tone of his reply and his smile; but she
+paid no more attention to it, as she was busy fussing about her
+grandfather so that he would not take cold.
+
+Presently Bastien came to say that the phaeton was ready. Perrine's eyes
+did not leave her grandfather as he walked forwards and down the steps
+alone. When they reached the last step a loud bray made her start. She
+looked up.
+
+There stood a donkey harnessed to a phaeton! A donkey, and that donkey
+was like Palikare, a Palikare shiny and glossy, with polished shoes and
+adorned with a beautiful yellow harness with blue tassels. The donkey,
+with his neck stretched out, continued to bray. In spite of the groom's
+hold upon him he turned and tried to get to Perrine.
+
+"Palikare!" she cried.
+
+She flew to him and flung her arms around his neck.
+
+"Oh, grandpapa, what a lovely surprise!" she cried, dancing around her
+dear Palikare.
+
+"You don't owe it to me," said her grandfather. "Fabry bought it from
+that ragpicker to whom you sold it. The office staff offer it as a gift
+to their old comrade."
+
+"Oh, hasn't Monsieur Fabry got a good, kind heart!" cried Perrine.
+
+"Yes, he thought of it, but your cousins did not," said M. Vulfran. "I
+have ordered a pretty cart from Paris for him. This phaeton is not the
+thing for him."
+
+They got up into the carriage and Perrine took the reins delightedly.
+
+"Where shall we go first, grandpapa?" she asked.
+
+"Why, to the log cabin," he said. "Don't you think I want to see the
+little nest where you once lived, my darling?"
+
+He referred to the cabin on the island where she had lived for a time
+the preceding year. It remained fondly in his mind. She drove on to the
+entrance and helped her grandfather alight at the path.
+
+The cabin seemed just the same as when Perrine left it.
+
+"How strange," said M. Vulfran, "that only a few steps from a great
+industrial center you were able to live the life of a savage here."
+
+"In India we led a real savage life," said Perrine. "Everything around
+us belonged to us there, but here, I had no right to this and I was
+often very afraid."
+
+After M. Vulfran had inspected the little log hut he wanted to see the
+creche at Maraucourt.
+
+He thought that he would easily recognize it, as he had so often discussed
+the plans with Fabry, but when he found himself at the entrance, and was
+able to see at a glance all the other rooms, the dormitory where the
+little babies were asleep in their rose and blue cribs according to the
+sex, the playroom where those who could walk were playing, the kitchen,
+the lavatory, he was surprised and delighted.
+
+Using large glass doors, the architect had cleverly made his plans so
+that from the first room the mothers could see all that went on in the
+other rooms where they were not allowed to enter.
+
+In the nursery the children sprang forward and jumped upon Perrine,
+showing her the playthings that they had in their hands.
+
+"I see that you are known here," said M. Vulfran.
+
+"Known!" replied Mlle. Belhomme, greeting them. "She is loved by all;
+she is a little mother to them, and no one can play like she can."
+
+M. Vulfran put his arms affectionately around his granddaughter as
+they went on to the carriage.
+
+They returned home slowly as evening fell. Then as they passed from one
+hill to another, they found themselves overlooking the surrounding
+country, where new roofs and tall chimneys could be seen everywhere.
+
+M. Vulfran took Perrine's hand.
+
+"All that is your work, child," he said; "I only thought of business.
+See what you have done. But so that this can all be continued in the
+years to come, we shall have to find you a husband, one who will be
+worthy of you, who will work for us. We will not ask anything more of him.
+I think one day we shall find the right man and we shall all be happy
+... en famille...."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+THE BERRY PATCH
+
+Josephine Lawrence
+
+_12mo. Illustrated. Beautiful cloth binding, stamped in gold and
+jacket in colors._
+
+_Price, $1.50 Net._
+
+[Illustration: Line drawing of Berry Patch book cover]
+
+    _The Berry family home was called the Berry Patch
+    because of the "cross-patch" dispositions of the
+    children, but, at heart, they all wanted to be right,
+    and so the clash of experiences at last brought good
+    results. In the process of interesting events, the
+    reform of the family brought about the reform of the
+    community, with unhappy dispositions changed into
+    lovable characters, that make good citizens and reach
+    social success._
+
+Elspeth Oliver is the girl whose energy keeps things whirling in the
+Berry Patch. Judge Berry was the great authority on what's what among
+them, and John Tabor, the school teacher, was the romantic character in
+the community. All the human excitements of pride and self-will enter
+into the various ambitions. Even generous impulses were taught restraint
+in the experiences of various kinds, showing that there is an appropriate
+time and place for everything.
+
+The Berry Patch children did not get into mischief from any desire to
+make trouble, but because a surplus of energy was engaged in making
+discoveries. However, the greatest of all discoveries was that experience
+is a dear teacher, and random experiences sometimes cost many tears.
+Human nature in the "Berry Patch" is revealed in so many ways that it
+makes profitable and interesting reading for those who are troubled with
+household troubles.
+
+_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._
+
+
+CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS New York
+
+
+ROSEMARY
+
+JOSEPHINE LAWRENCE
+
+_12mo. Illustrated, Beautiful cloth binding, stamped in gold with
+cover inlay and jacket in colors._
+
+_Price $1.50 Net._
+
+[Illustration: Line drawing of Rosemary Book Cover]
+
+_This lively story of charming little girls awakens the fancy and
+stimulates the ambition of all little readers to be approved of their
+associates, and to win the admiration of their worthiest friends. The
+inspiration to do one's best in both work and play, with due regard for
+the comfort and welfare of others, is one of the fine merits of this
+story._
+
+ROSEMARY
+
+Rosemary Willis is twelve years old, the eldest of three sisters. She is
+charming, quick and radiant, with a snappy temper. As she is the
+responsible one, she has many hard struggles to do the right thing in
+the right way. Sarah is two years younger. She is the peculiar one, with
+her love for all kinds of animals about the farm, and her unsocial,
+stubborn disposition. Her unruly ideas lead her into numerous troubles
+before she changes her mind. Shirley is the baby and pet of six years.
+As she gets her own way so often, she is badly spoiled and receives many
+hard knocks before she begins to appreciate the comfort and interest of
+others. Dr. Hugh is their big brother, who has the care of them in the
+absence of their parents, and he ranges in their estimation all the way
+from terrible tyrant to wonderful, necessary brother. There are others
+who help complicate as well as untangle troubles, and fill up the
+experience of the story with interesting glimpses of life.
+
+_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._
+
+
+CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS New York
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nobody's Girl, by Hector Malot
+
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