She ushered Mr. Mansfield into thesalon, which adjoined that of the old Comte.
Mansfield found great difficulty in describing his little angel and Madame did not fail to notice that in spite of every endeavour the tears trembled to his eyes, although on no account would he allow them to fall.
"Oh, la, la! she is beautiful," exclaimed theComtesse, when his description had come to an end. "Monsieur Englishman you are good. On that point rest assured. You have the distinction of bearing. I note it. I would that you could talk with our parish priest. You live among the high and holy things, M'sieur. Now, then, I have a little secret to impart, I would not tell it to another, but to you, yes, you have the air—the eye so clear and frank. Now, Monsieur, when I married the Comte, he was great with the notion that I, his little Ninon, had given up all the chapeaux and the robes that brought in the money—the francs so numerous that I could make the old place look like it did so long ago, but I didnotgive up myétablissement, m'sieur. Mon Dieu! I could not—I could not live without my gifts—I could not live without my silks and my satins, my lace, all real, I assure you; my opera cloaks, my tortoise-shell ostrich feather fans. No, no, I keep mymagasingoing, so that I can give a gooddotto the little Comtesse, and the old man he knows nothing about it. He must never—never know—must my adorable Alphonse."
Margot's last day had dawned at Desmondstown. On the following morning she must leave grand-dad and Madam and young old Aunt Eileen and young old Aunt Norah and young old Aunt Bridget. She must also say good-bye to the boys, to Bruce and Malachi, and she was fully determined somehow or other to manage to give a last good-bye to Phinias Maloney and his wife Annie, and the baby who was so truly young.
Little Margot felt very sad at the thought of going away, and she nestled more snugly than ever into her grandfather's arms and looked up into his stern old face and kissed him on his brown cheek.
She nestled more snugly
She nestled more snugly than ever into her grandfather'sarms.—Page 100.
"Grand-dad," she said, "how much do you love me now?"
"Ah, worra, then, pushkeen, I'm thinking I love you better than all the rest of the wide world."
"Oh, grand-dad," said Margot, with a sort of gasp, "then you love me better than all the old-youngs. It is wonderfully noble of you, grand-dad.You are a holy man—you are as holy, I'm thinking, as my uncle, John Mansfield."
"Drat John Mansfield!" exclaimed The Desmond.
"You mustn't say 'drat', grand-dad," said Margot, "more particular when you speak of a real holy man. Oh, grand-dad," she continued with a little burst of pain, "I don'twantto leave you, I don't."
"You won't, pushkeen, you won't—keep your mind easy."
"But I'm going to-morrow," said Margot. "You can't keep me, for I took a vow. We of Desmondstown don't break vows, do we, grand-dad?"
"You're staying along of me, vow or no vow," said the old man, clasping her tighter than ever to his breast.
It was just at this moment that a commotion was heard in the hall. Young old Aunt Norah was heard to utter her celebrated "whoop." People began to run and to exclaim and the next moment, Fergus Desmond and John Mansfield entered the room side by side.
Margot, although she was intensely happy at Desmondstown, had missed Fergus a good deal and could not understand why her beautiful, extraordinary horse had deserted her, but now she had only time to give him a nod and a smile and then sherushed forward and was clasped in Uncle Jacko's arms. She kissed him over and over and over. Her beautiful eyes grew wet with tears. She turned after a minute and brought him up to her grandfather.
"Here's himself, grand-dad, here's the holy man himself."
Madam had all this time been seated quietly in a corner. She was doing some of the celebrated Irish crochet, which brought in a trifle of money towards the expenses of the place. She glanced now at her son and her son gave her a look which she understood. She went straight up to little Margot.
"You and me, we'll go into the kitchen," she said, "and see about your uncle's tea. Come,acushla machree." She took one of Margot's little hands in one of her own, still small and fine and dainty, and the child without a struggle, but with extreme unwillingness, left the room.
The moment the three men were alone together, The Desmond stood up to his great height.
"I'm obliged to you, John Mansfield," he said, "for looking after my granddaughter. You have acted in a very fair way towards her, I'm thinking; but I want her now for the remainder of my days. You are willing to give her up, eh, John Mansfield?"
"I must give her up," said Mansfield. "I have no say in the matter, alas! She is all the world to me, but I can't keep her against her will and against what is holy and right."
"Don't talk to me of holiness, Mansfield," interrupted The Desmond. "What's settled about my granddaughter? Sit down, man, if you must, you look a bit white and shaky."
"Perhaps, Mansfield, you had best let me speak," said Fergus. "He has had a very hard time, has Mansfield, father, and has behaved like a perfect saint. I'll tell the story and he'll listen and you'll have to agree, for there's no other way out."
"Ah, to be sure, Fergus, you always had the tongue," said The Desmond. "It was havin' ye trained at old Trinity. Well, go ahead, what's settled?"
"You know, of course, that my sister Priscilla married John Mansfield."
"Married John Mansfield," repeated the old man, "one of the Desmonds marriedyou?"
"She did, sir, and she's a good woman. She's real aunt to little Margot."
"I call her a scourge," said The Desmond. "She never did anything that anyone else did. She was the torment of my life. But still for her to demean herself by marrying Farmer Mansfield's son!"
"He's better than she is, father, ten thousand times better," interrupted Fergus. "Don't you turn on him. He's gone through enough. The little one would not be alive now but for his care. Prissy's the same as ever, only a trifle more bitter. She claimed money for the child——"
"Which isn't to be heard of, or thought of," said Mansfield, "but she's a good woman—I won't allow anything else to be said about her."
"Well, let her keep her goodness, but let her keep away from us," said The Desmond. "I'm obliged to you, Mansfield. You have reared up that pretty bit thing and now she is ours, thank the Almighty. I wish I could payyou, not Prissy, but I haven't got it, Mansfield. I'm a poor man, bitter poor, but Fergus, who will be The Desmond, will see after the bit colleen when I am took. I can rest easy in my bed to-night thinking that she's in the same house, the pretty, sweet lamb. And she loves me, too, for that matter, Mansfield. Strange as it is to relate, she is wonderful took up with the old grand-dad."
"Father, you must let me finish my story," said Fergus. "Things are not as smooth as you think."
"What—why? What do you mean? Who dares to interfere between me and mine? I'll have him ducked in the horse-pond, that I will."
"Father, you must take things easy," said Fergus. "You can't duck him in the horse-pond, for he's too far away."
"Why, he's here, close by. I could lay me hand on him if I'd a mind," said The Desmond. "Bedad, and I will, too, if I'm further roused. He's coming holiness over me when he's an out-and-out scoundrel."
"If you mean John Mansfield, father, he's the best man I know," said Fergus. "He's put up with Prissy and that's enough. Anyone who can do that must have the spirit of the Lord in him, say I."
"She's a good woman," murmured Mansfield. He turned his head a little aside. This interview was trying him inexpressibly.
"Now father, you listen," said Fergus. "Mansfield is the best of the best, and he'll give up the child whom he loved and reared and taught all she knows, for that matter. He'll give her up without asking a penny piece."
"I will so," said Mansfield, "it is the will of the Almighty."
"Then whyever are ye trying to frighten me?" said The Desmond, sinking back into his big grandfather chair.
"It is because of this," said Fergus, "things are fairly smooth, but not as smooth as you think.Mansfield has nothing to do with it, so, for the Lord's sake, don't you turn on him. You forget that our Kathleen married a French nobleman."
"A Frenchy!" exclaimed The Desmond. "I hate the whole lot of 'em."
"Well, hate them or not, father, you have got to put up with the fact that the child has got two grandfathers; you are one, and the Comte St. Juste of the château near Arles is the other. This good fellow and I had an interview with the Comte and it seems he has been all these years searching and searching for the child of his only son, who died. He didn't even know whether it was a boy or girl, but he knew there was a child and he couldn't find it. Well, we brought him the tidings and luckily for us he speaks English, and so does Madame la Comtesse, his young second wife. He's reasonable enough and he promises a big 'dot' to the little one."
"A dot! What's a dot?" cried The Desmond. "A full stop I suppose you mean, we don't want a full stop."
"No, father, it's the French for a dowry. It means a lot of money. He wanted to have the child altogether, but when we spoke to him, he was amenable to reason. He will give her a lot of money—I can't tell you the exact sum, but with what he cangive and what we can give, the little one will be well off—very well off—only the condition is this: She is to spend half her time with him and half her time with you. He's very old—very much more feeble than you are, father, and he wants Mansfield and me to bring her over to the château near Arles at once. She is to stay there three months and then you shall have her for three months. It's reasonable and I've promised, and it must be done."
"You say he is older than me," said The Desmond, "and a Frenchy, too, bedad. Look at me, do I look young now?"
"No, you have got a bit of a disappointment, but she will be back with you in three months."
The Desmond turned his head aside and it was only Mansfield who noticed his shaking hands.
"My little bit, my little own," he murmured, "my pushkeen, my little own."
Mansfield got up very softly and left the room. In a few minutes he returned with some hot whisky and water, which he gave the old man.
"You must take it, sir," he said. "You are shook up, the same as I am, but she'll be back with you soon, for I'll bring her to you myself."
There was a great excitement in the house when it was announced by Fergus that Margot St. Juste, according to the French law, was a Comtesse, andthat she was to go immediately, that very day, to her French grandfather's château outside Arles.
The place was in a kind of turmoil, but the old man did not appear. Little Margot rushed in and clasped her arms round his neck.
"Grand-dad, I won't go."
"Ye must, pushkeen."
"Grand-dad, is your heart a-breaking?"
"Will you forget me when ye are away,alanna?"
"Never—never—never! As long as you live and as long as I live. Uncle John promises to bring me back to you faithful and true. And when he comes may he stay for a couple of days?"
"He may stay forever and ever, if he doesn't bring that wicked woman, his wife. She married beneath her, but she's a scold, for all that."
"I don't know what a scold is," said little Margot, "but I always said she was a wicked woman. Grand-dad, she didn't marry beneath her, she married far, far, far above her."
"Yes, child, perhaps you are right. Let's see when you'll be coming back to me, pushkeen."
"This is the 5th of June," said little Margot.
"June one, July two, August three," said the old man. "Ye'll be back with me on the fifth of September."
"I will that; I'll be mad to come back. You and Madam will keep watching and waiting for me."
"Don't you doubt it,acushla, don't you doubt it."
"And you won't grow any older, grand-dad, for that would be quite too terrible."
"No fear of that," said The Desmond. "I'll keep up for your sake,acushla mavourneen."
"And I for yours," said little Margot. Then she kissed the old man, and left Desmondstown.
The little old trunk was packed and Malachi took it to the gate where the same funny, springless little cart was waiting for it. Bruce and Fergus and the three young old Miss Desmonds accompanied Margot to the little cart. She rode on Fergus's shoulder up the avenue. It was Malachi who lifted her into the cart. Phinias Maloney was there to drive her to the station and Phinias Maloney's young wife and the baby and the other children were all clustering round to bid the little Comtesse good-day.
Meanwhile in the beautiful and celebrated town of Arles in South France great and intense excitement was going on, for Madame la Comtesse St. Juste was making what she considered suitable preparations for the arrival of her husband's granddaughter. She had from her own stores supplied innumerable frocks in French style for the little one to wear. Not only did she provide frocks, butdaintily frilled petticoats and chapeaux of the very best, and open-work silk stockings and little delicate kid shoes to match the frocks—in short, she had a complete wardrobe suitable for the very small Comtesse, who was to be the future delight of that adorable one, her Alphonse.
The railway journey was very long and little Margot was tired. She loved her Irish grandfather, but thought nothing at all about her French one. She was troubled in her mind, too, at the thought of parting with her beloved Uncle John.
"Oh, Jacko, my Latin and Greek," she sobbed. They were getting very close to Arles when she said this, and John Mansfield took her in his big arms and kissed her over and over again, telling her that she must be a very good little girl and that she was indeed lucky to have not only one but two such loving grandparents.
"I would much rather have only one," said little Margot. "I don't understand the double. Why should there be a double, Uncle John? Why, I'd even put up with——"
"With what,mavourneen?"
"Why,herself, the good woman, to be nearyou," said the child.
"My darling, we must all fit ourselves for the position that Providence assigns," remarked goodJohn Mansfield, and then they reached the great station and found themselves in the stately town, for Arles is very south and very warm and exceedingly picturesque.
Mansfield made enquiries and discovered that a carriage was waiting forla petiteComtesse. Into this the little Margot stepped. John Mansfield followed her. The ugly brown trunk was placed beside the coachman, and they drove in the direction of the château, which was quite a mile outside the town of Arles.
They found Madame la Comtesse waiting to greet them. She wore a most wonderful dress, which she considered according to her own ideas,le juste milieu. On her head was a chapeau, which consisted mostly of large violets. Her dress was pale green, with atristelittle bow of black just under the chin. She bounded down the steps and claspedla petiteComtesse in her arms.
"I am thybellegrand'mère," she said. "My pigeon, my little cabbage, look at me, I am thybellegrand'mère in very truth."
"But you are young," said Margot. "My Irish grandmother is beautiful and old."
"Ah, but never mind, little strange one, it cannot be helped. The Irish grand'mère is old—the French grand'mère is young,très bien. Come with me andI will introduce thee to thy grandpère—eh, but he has got the years and well do they suitmonAlphonse. Thy grandpère is adorable, my little cabbage."
The French grandpère was certainly very different from the Irish grandfather, and little Margot looked at him out of her soft black eyes with a puzzled mingling of admiration and surprise.
"Ah, but thou art indeed come,mon enfant!"
The old Comte reclined just as of old, on his down pillows. He was covered just as he was a week past with a soft crimson plush coverlet. He looked anxiously out of his sunken black eyes into the soft black eyes ofla petiteComtesse.
"Thou art here—thou art my own, thou wast born of my Henri. Kiss me, little one, press thy rosy lips on mine."
Little Margot did what she was told.
"My grandfather of Ireland," she said, "is much bigger than you, grandfather of France. You will not perhaps live very long."
"Ah, butmon enfant, don't say anything so shocking.Fi donc, fi donc," exclaimed the little Comtesse, bending over her beloved Alphonse and kissing him passionately, then she turned to the child. "A la bonne heure," she cried, "thou shalt have adotthat will astonish thee, and the notaryhas come and he will make out the amount that was promised M. Mansfield, of the English Church."
"I wish to say one thing," remarked John Mansfield. "This is the sixth of June, I will return for the child on the sixth of September, but during that time I wish her to learn."
"Ah, oui, m'sieur, certainement!What would you wishla petiteComtesse to acquire?"
"Not Latin and not Greek," interrupted Margot. "My good uncle, the holiest man in the world, teaches me those languages."
"There is a school where I will send thee,petite. There thou shalt acquire the French in all its perfection, and thou shalt learn the dancing. Ah! bravo! everything shall be as it should he. Thou must prepare for an excellent marriage,ma chère petiteComtesse."
"What is a marriage?" asked Margot.
"It is—ah, but thou must not know yet. Digest well my counsels. I shall pray tole bon Dieufor the success ofvotre mari, that is to be. M'sieur, you are areligieux?"
"He is a holy man," said Margot.
"Ah, oui, oui, mon enfant—I know all that, but, nevertheless, I amtout à fait Françaisand I love the French the best of all people in the world."
"And I love the English and the Irish," said Margot.
"Ah well, wait a while,ma pauvre chérie. Thou wilt soon see for thyself. When the marriage time comes on—then will happen the rejoicing, and I can dress thee, ah well! I have thy little garments already arranged, but theavocatis waiting. Thedotmust be settled once and for all on this brilliantpetiteComtesse, and then M'sieur, you will tell those good people in Ireland and your own sacred household what good has befallenla petite."
"I like it not at all," said Margot to herself. She stood looking disconsolately out of one of the windows and remembered The Desmond and the old place gone to rack and ruin, and hated the idea of being left alone with grand'mère and grandpère of the French nation.
"It troubles me," she thought, "why did I ever leave my little home with my beloved Jacko?"
It is one of the astonishing and also one of the blessed things of life that children of the age of Marguerite St. Juste quickly accommodate themselves to circumstances. She was naturally a very brave little girl, and she had a heart warmer than most, but there was a quiet determination about her, that same determination which had won her way into all the hearts of the good folks at Desmondstown, and this she brought now to her aid.
Her French grandpère was very nice, and she set to work to learn French as quickly as she could, in order to be able to converse with him not only in the English tongue but also in his own. The young new wife said thatla petiteComtesse was altogether of the most ravishing. The old Comte said nothing at all, but he looked atla petiteout of his twinkling black eyes and tried hard to see her father in that bonny little brown face—in those steadfast, deep, very dark eyes and in those smiling coral lips, but although little Margot had the dark eyes of herfather, very dark and very beautiful, she had what was better for herself, the soul of her mother. It was because of that soul that Kathleen Desmond had been so loved and because further she had happened to impart that soul to her little child Margot, who was in consequence more Irish than French.
Nevertheless she must remain for three months with Madame la Comtesse and with Monsieur le Comte, her grandpère.
There was one relief, however, for her. She had little or no affection for her French relations, but she did most truly adore the idea of going to school at Arles and of learning something about French girls in general.
Madame la Comtesse had most solemnly promised dear Uncle Jacko to send her to school and Marguerite waited impatiently for the day and hour when she might commence her studies. The day and hour, however, seemed to be a long way off. Each day as it came she was expected to devote all her time to her grandpère and to make the old man laugh by her funny attempts at the French language. Still there was no talk of school. There was, however, a vast amount of talk of dress.
"Mongrandpère" laughed until he could hardly stop laughing when he saw Margot in her pretty French costumes. He chuckled when she attemptedto imitate his French and Madame kept on saying, "Fi donc, fi donc!Ah! but thou mightst be a child of three and thirty to hear thee talk. See, behold! How thou dost make thy grandpère laugh. Thou dost do him much good.Fi donc, petiteComtesse, thou must not make him laugh till he expires. Has he not already the liver too pronounced? We must take care of him,ma petite. He wishes for thy company and I—behold I have my château.Tiens!it comforts me not a little."
Margot gazed with some amazement at her young grandmother.
"Thou hast made a promise,magrand'mère," she exclaimed. "The days fly and you do not fulfil it—you do not carry it out. See, behold, Madame, it is of the most religious. You said it with those lips to the holiest man in the world. Behold, Madame, there will come a curse on thee if thou dost not carry it out."
"Non, non, non," cried Madame, in great distress of mind. "Speak not so cruelly,ma petiteComtesse. See,mon enfant, I love thee. Thou shalt have another chapeau."
"I don't want another chapeau," said Margot. "I'd like to go to school, where the really young girls—not the old young girls—live. Thou didst promise, Comtesse. Thou must keep thy word."
"But thou dost give pleasure to the old man, thy grandpère. Think of that,ma petite."
"I will give him greater pleasure when I go to school," said Margot. "I will bring him back day by day stories—ah, of the funniest. He will laugh. Thou wilt see, Comtesse, how he will enjoy himself."
"Ma petite, thou hast a wise head," said the Comtesse. "Thou shalt have thy way. There is a school for the trimming of hats and for the perfect education in the French tongue, by one Thérèse Marcelle. I will take thee to her to-morrow morning."
"But I don't want to learn to trim hats," said Margot.
"Ah, but it is a rare accomplishment, little one. Thou will learn it andpeut-êtrethe piano also, andpeut-êtrethe French tongue in all its perfection."
"And are the girls at Thérèse Marcelle's old young, or only young?" enquired Margot.
"Ah,ma petite bébé, they are one and all of the youngest and the gayest. See, I will take thee to-morrow. I am the last woman in the world to break my word."
Margot skipped away in her light and graceful manner and the next morning she and the Comtesse St. Juste drove into Arles in one of the very newest and best motor-cars of the time. They stoppedbefore a largemagasin, which looked to little Margot far more like a gorgeous shop than a school. There were chapeaux innumerable displayed in certain windows, there were all sorts of robes—robes of every sort and description also to be seen.
Madame entered smiling, holding the little hand ofla petite. She was greeted by smiles from every one in the shop. In fact, her entrance seemed to bring a ray of sunshine with it. All the young women who were walking about and attending to different customers were trying to catch her eye in order to secure one of her much treasured smiles.
Madame la Comtesse, however, knew her own mind and, motioning to Margot to seat herself, entered into conversation of a very earnest and at the same time spirited nature with a young woman who sat behind a sort of raised counter. Margot was left to look around her. She was much, indeed greatly, puzzled by what she saw. What could have happened—what a very queer sort of school this was!
Presently a number of ladies came in and Margot forgot her own immediate interests in the excitement of watching them. They did not look like English ladies nor did they look like French. One of them was very large and very fat and red. She had a square figure planted on large square feet and a firm jaw indicating a tenacity of purpose, whichthe ill-natured might call pig-headedness. A young and very pretty French girl came up and spoke to her.
She said that she required a chapeau, condemning as she spoke the entire style of Madame Marcelle's goods.
"There is only one thing here that would suit me," she said. "See, behold!" she pointed to a very small child's hat in a corner. It was trimmed with small bunches of marguerites and violets. Her friend expostulated with her but she did not take the least notice.
"J'aime beaucoup le chapeau là," she said, pointing to the one of her choice.
"Ah," exclaimed the young French shop-girl. "Le chapeau pour la bébé.It is nice, is it not? But now, we must find something Parisian for Madame herself."
Before Margot could quite get to the end of this exciting story and find out which hat the red-faced, fat woman required, Madame la Comtesse came to her side.
"I have settled for thee,ma petite," she said. "Thou wilt come here each morning and take lessons in the making of chapeaux, then, after that is over, thou shalt have an hour in which to learn the French tongue and half an hour to do the differentharmonies on the piano. Then thou wilt return to my Alphonse. Thou wilt be a very happychère petite. See, I leave thee now under the care of Madame Marcelle."
Margot did not know whether to laugh or cry. The Comtesse whisked out of the shop amidst more nods and smiles and Madame came and took Margot's little hand.
"Behold," she said, "thou art of theancienne noblesse. Now thou wilt learn. I myself will instruct thee. Dost thou see that woman with the red face?"
"Oh, yes," said Margot, "she is very ugly."
"She wants to find a hat," said Madame, "which would only suit abébé. Now then, come. You and I we will go to her and show her what is right. Thou must flatter her into buying a Parisian chapeau. She would look absurd with her own ideas."
"I thought this—this was a school," said poor little Margot, raising her brown eyes and fixing them on Madame Marcelle.
"So it is a school,ma petiteComtesse, and of the most wonderful, the mostextraordinaire. Ah, Madame la Comtesse is right to have you taught. A little knowledge goes a long way when it is acquired as I will teach it. Now, then, stand aside and listen.You will soon learn. I manage in this school of all schools the best. Come! Hold my hand."
She brought the pretty child forward and stood right in front of the red-faced lady.
"You want a chapeau, Madame. Ah,c'est drôle, ne c'est pas?That is forla bébé." She pointed with scorn at the tiny hat. "Here is one for you. See, I am in the despair to oblige you, but behold I have the very thing."
Madame produced a hat from off its stand, covered with flowers, butterflies and small feathers of different colours.
"Behold for yourself, Madame! It came from Paris yesterday."
"It is too showy. I like the little hat best," said Madame of the red face.
"Let me speak," suddenly interrupted little Margot. "Your face behold! it is red and must be softened. You shall wear brown. See, I picture it in my eye," continued Margot, speaking as though she had been acting shop-woman all her days. "A brown hattrès douxand one long feather to match. Have you such a hat, Madame?" exclaimed little Margot.
"It is wonderful the taste of the Comtesse," cried Madame. "She sees at once what will suit you,chère Madame."
"The Comtesse! That little girl a Comtesse!" cried the astonished red-faced American lady.
"Ah,oui, Madame. She is the young Comtesse St. Juste and her taste it is of the most exquisite. Paris itself cannot touch her."
"Why does she come here?" asked the American. "But get me the brown hat with the brown feather. She looks like a child who has pretty taste."
Little Margot stood very silent. She was not going to laugh. Having given her idea she stuck to it. Her grave and lovely eyes were fixed on the American's face. The brown hat was produced in a twinkling. It was tried on. It was pronounced perfect.
"I will have a fan to match," said the American.
"Ah, oui, c'est bon," said little Margot. "I will myself choose it for you, Madame."
She chose a fan made of brown feathers with a long tortoise-shell handle.
"Here, behold!" said little Margot.
Immediately the other American ladies buzzed round the brown hat and round the brown fan, and little Margot found herself acting as shopwoman and enjoying herself immensely.
"And now the price, Mademoiselle la Comtesse,"said the red-faced American, when all the ladies had been provided with hats and fans.
"I know not," said Margot. "Madame, you will tell the price. For me, I amfatiguée." She marched away, hearing however behind her a perfect buzz of remonstrance.
The prices were monstrous—they were absurd. They were beyond even thinking about.
Madame stood calmly by, holding a pile of hats with brown feathers in her hand.
"It is the will ofla petiteComtesse," she remarked, and then again she stood silent.
By-and-bye the hustle grew so great, the noise so animated, that Margot wondered how the whole thing would end and when these horrid, disagreeable women would leave the shop. But after storm there came peace. The brown hats and the brown fans hastily arranged themselves, the money was paid, one hundred and fifty francs for each chapeau, and one hundred and thirty francs for each fan.
Madame danced up to Margot and kissed her several times.
"We have made—we have made—oh, so much for yourdot, little one," she said. "You are the very best saleswoman I ever knew. What will our sweet Madame la Comtesse say when we tell her!Six chapeaux at 150 francs apiece, six fans at 130 francs apiece! Ah, but it is marvellous! You have the natural gift, little one. Come with me now, into the apartment, where we sell the robes of all sorts and colours. You will make the fortune of this place, little Comtesse."
"I will not go with you, Madame," cried little Margot. "This is not a school—it is a shop. I want to learn my French. I demand that I learn it. I will not again give counsel about hats for ugly women."
"You will learn the tongue of the French so ravishing in those apartments set aside forles robes," cried Madame. "Come, my little Comtesse, you are a genius and must not throw away your gift."
"I tell you I amfatiguée," cried Margot. "I will not enter a shop; I will go to school. It is a vow taken. Where is my grand'mère? See, I will do nothing more in your horrid shop."
"Ah, ma pauvre petite," cried the good-natured Madame. "La petite, she is tired out and no wonder. Ah,ma chérieis it not for your owndot? Now, come, listen. There is one playing in the other room. He is playing those delicious songs ofWagnère. Courage,mon enfant. You have done well and are tired. Ah, look at that robe in exquisite satin, coloured as the oyster, and that single row ofpearls round the neck and that magnificent diamond star crowning the summit ofle chevelure! See the air it lends. Will you not help me to sell that costume so ravishing, my little Comtesse?"
"Non, non, I hate it all!" said Margot. "I will listen to the music ofWagnèreuntil my French mistress comes and then I will return to M'sieur le Comte St. Juste,mongrandpère. Ah, but I am miserable—miserable in a shop. What would The Desmond say if he saw his pushkeen in a shop?"
Madame saw that she had gone as far as she could with the little Comtesse. She placed her where she could listen to the beautiful music which delighted the child and soothed her troubled heart, and then a young Frenchman entered theappartement, and with his knees and heels tightly pressed together made a very low bow to the little Comtesse St. Juste. He began talking to her in a lively manner in the French tongue, correcting her mistakes and teaching her how to use the French language properly.
Margot was a wonderfully quick little pupil, but she sprang up with delight when she saw the Comtesse enter.
The Comtesse had an earnest conversation with Madame and approached Margot, her black eyes full of smiles and her cheeks very bright.
"Ah, but thou art of the very best,mon enfant," she cried, and she took the little Comtesse in her arms and kissed her before everyone in the shop.
The child and the woman got into the motor-car and drove off as quickly as possible in the direction of the château.
"Thou must never do that again, grand'mère," cried Margot.
"Do what,ma petite, my cabbage, my pigeon?"
"That was a shop, not a school. I desire to go to a school," said Margot. "I will tell M'sieur le Comte, my French grandpère."
"Thou wilt not, thou couldst not be so cruel," exclaimed her French grandmother.
"Ah, but I could and I would. I will not learn in a shop."
"Then, however am I to get thee thydot,ma petite?" cried the Comtesse, "and thou hast a gift in that way—a gift the most marvellous. Didst thou not sell six brown hats and six brown fans to-day? Thou hast the true taste running in thy veins,ma petite."
"But you don't want me to sell hats," said Margot.
"Yes, I do, I do. Thou hast the gift. Madame confirms it. Tell not thy grandpère or he will rage—he would rage in the French fashion and thatmight causela mort. Ah,ma petite, thou wilt not injure thypauvregrandpère."
"But I do not understand," cried little Margot.
"I will put it clear to thee if thou wilt not tell thy grandpère."
"Perhaps I will not tell," said Margot.
"Thou must not tell,ma petite. The hats and fans thou didst sell were mine and the money goes towards thydot. Go to my most beautifulétablissementeach day for one hour, for thou hast most truly the gift of selling, and the title of the little Comtesse goes far. Then I will call for thee and take thee to a school, a school for the daughters of theancienne noblesse. Wilt thou do this for thypauvre bellegrand-mère and wilt thou keep it dark—very dark from thy grandpère?"
"But why—why must he not know?" asked little Margot.
"Because,ma petite, when I met that most noble and ancient gentleman, the château was going to ruin. He wanted the comfort but he had notl'argent. I told him I hadle dotand he married me. He thinks I have given up theétablissementwhere the chapeaux and the robes are, but how could I give them up,ma petiteComtesse, when we would have nothing to live on otherwise? See, thou hast the gift and thou canst help me; one hour a dayamongst my chapeaux, one hour a day forla petiteComtesse to show her taste, and then I take thee to the very best school in Arles."
"Will you really, Comtesse?" asked Margot.
"I will, really, my most beautiful, my most lovelybébé. Do not embarrass thyself. All will be well. It is a bargain between us. No word to the Comte, thy grandpère! He is too feeble and too proud. He has the pride of all the St. Justes in his veins, but he lives in comfort out of myétablissement. Wilt thou not help me for one hour or two hours a day, little Comtesse?"
"Yes, if you keep your word about the school," said Margot. "I will not otherwise, indeed I will not."
"No fear,ma petite, my word is my bond."
"But," said Margot, "when I get back now, what am I to say to grandpère? How can I talk to him about the shop which is thy shop?"
"Tell him thou didst go into anétablissementwith me, thy grand'mère, and describe to him the American lady with the stout figure and the red face. Tell him what she wanted and what thou didst suggest. Ah, but he will laugh—he will roar."
"I like Ireland better than France," said Margot solemnly, "but I will do what thou dost wish on this one occasion, grand'mère, for otherwise I couldnot live. To-morrow I will attend thy horrible shop for one hour and one hour only, and then I will go to the school where the young-young girls are and where I can be taught. See, thou hast promised."
"I have promised and I will fulfil," said her grand'mère. "The school belongs to my friend, M'selle la Princesse de Fleury. Thou dost not know how much thou wilt learn there. It ischicof thechic. Oh, la! la! thou wilt enjoy thyself at the Princesse de Fleury's school."
So little Margot entered the old château fairly satisfied. To be taught by a Princess seemed a very high honour indeed, and she determined to lose no time in picking up knowledge to delight Uncle Jacko and dear, dear grand-dad, The Desmond.
Margot was the sort of girl who invariably and without any doubt kept her word, but, being of that somewhat rare species, she expected those about her to keep their words also. Accordingly Madame la Comtesse was forced to sendla petiteComtesse St. Juste to her friendlaPrincesse de Fleury, having made arrangements beforehand with that good woman, that the child should go to her every day fordéjeuner. After that she was to devote herself to the learning of French and that music which charms even the savage breast.
Little Margot was satisfied with this arrangement, and her grandfather, M. le Comte, little guessed that she was not at school all day long, but devoted the early hours of her day to selling hats innumerable for Madame la Comtesse.
Little Margot kept her word to the letter. She had a real taste for millinery, acquired no one quite knew how, and it soon became the rage in theétablissementthat M'sellela petiteComtesse should serve the customers, for had she not the tastemagnifique! At school, too, little Margot was perfectly happy. Her morning hours were hours of duty rather than pleasure, but the rest of her days were full of pleasure. She delighted beyond anything in acquiring knowledge, and very soon discovered to her intense delight that there were several English girls at the school of la Princesse de Fleury.
There was, in particular, Lady Dorothy Duncan. She was living with a French uncle at Arles and went every day to the school of la Princesse. She was a fair, pretty, thoroughly English girl, and, although she was quite three years older than the little Comtesse, she took to the child with the dark bright eyes at once. The child, in her turn, took to Lady Dorothy. She was allowed for the good of her manners, according to la Princesse, to speak English with Lady Dorothy, and many beyond ordinary words were the confidences that each young girl made to the other.
Margot grew tall and graceful for her age; Dorothy was small and very slim. Things went on well both at the school and at theétablissement, until one day Dorothy Duncan invited her most favoured friend to lunch in the château ofmon oncle.
"Is it very, very French?" asked little Margot.
"Oh, no, not any more than anything else here," said Dorothy. "You will enjoy it and you must come. As for me, I am overcome with raptures. My eldest sister—she is just seventeen—has come to us all the way from Rome. She will soon he likely to meet someone whom she can marry. She will be absorbed in getting her trousseau, partly from Paris and partly from that greatétablissementhere, kept by Madame Marcelle!" Margot felt herself colouring slightly.
"What is your sister like to look at, Dorothy?" she asked.
"Behold, understand!" exclaimed Dorothy, putting on all the French manners she could acquire. "I think that some day I shall be beautiful but not like Hébé. Hébé is almost as beautiful as you,ma petiteComtesse, only of course she is very much older. They say that the establishment of Ninon Lecoles cannot be beaten even in Paris, that city of all the delights. She has sold it now to Madame Marcelle. Ah, but my sister will make a grand marriage andl'oncleGustave will give her adotworthy of her."
"I am to have adot, too," said little Margot, "but, behold, I care not for it! It is—it is less than of no use at all. What I want is to have my heart brimful of love."
"Eh, but you are a darling," said Lady Dorothy. "I know you will love my sister."
"I am sure I shall," said little Margot. "Go on, describe her to me, Dorothy."
"We are very proud in England," began Dorothy, "very proud indeed. Ah, but our pride is immense. It is like a mushroom, standing up higher than our heads and the top of it covering us and shutting out the world. Of all my sisters there is none so proud as Hébé, andl'oncleGustave says she will make a very great marriage indeed. She is like me, but she has dark eyes, whereas mine are blue like bits of sky,n'est-ce pas?"
Margot made no reply.
"When am I going to see your sister, Dorothy?"
"Shall we arrange for to-morrow? You may perhaps see one of the manyprétendantsto her hand. Not that she looks at them. Ahnon, non. She abides her time. There is one called Maurice de Croix. He is a man of the world with an air superb and distinguished, but my sister, she will not regard him. But there, I must not speak any more on such matters. There is,peut-êtreone in England. I guess—but I dare not say. You will come to-morrow, little Margot, straight from school and be introduced toma belle soeur."
Margot gave a little sigh, said that she must askgrandpère, and would let her friend know the following day.
Grandpère was highly pleased that his little cabbage should have tea in the true French style withle pauvreGustave.
"He was once a very great man," said grandpère, "but he lived through his fortune and now—now he subsists on his pride. It is a great possession, the pride,ma très belleMargot, but it produces the hunger. I took care to do otherwise. I married my Ninon and since then, behold, I live in luxury, and can give thee a gloriousdot,ma petite!"
While Margot and her grandfather were talking, Madame la Comtesse entered the room. She was dressed in a pale shade of green with quantities of sequins of the same colour arranged on the front of her dress. Her little collar was of the best Honiton lace. Her dress was short, coming barely to her ankles. She wore open-work silk stockings of the same shade and little green kid shoesen suite. She looked very charming and young, and no one could tell from her appearance what her age could possibly be.
She rushed up now to "monAlphonse," arranged his down pillows, settled his soft rug of crimson plush and said, "Ah, behold, art thou not full ofcomfort, my adored one? And what hasla petitebeen saying to thee?"
"Good news, my Ninon," replied grandpère. "Gustave, the present Marquis de Serrègnon, wants thisbébéto have tea with his nieces Hébé and Dorothy to-morrow evening. Ah, but I fear the food will be poor, but the Marquis is the Marquis, and we must not despise him. This little Margot, thischère petite, loves dearly his English niece, Lady Dorothy Duncan, but it is the sister whom Lady Dorothy wishes her to meet."
A cloud, very imperceptible, but undoubtedly there, swept over the face of Madame la Comtesse.
"All shall be as thou dost wish, my most adorable Alphonse," she remarked, and she kissed the old man first on the hand, then on the brow, then on each cheek and then, by an almost imperceptible wave of her own small white hand, motioned Margot to follow her out of the room.
"Answer me, and answer me truly,mon enfant," she said. "Hast thou seen the Lady Hébé Duncan in myétablissement? Hast thou perchance served her,ma petite?"
"I have seen her and I have served her," said Margot. "I helped her to choose chapeaux yesterday."
"Then she will know thee again when thou dostgo to that place of desolation where le Marquis de Serrègnon lives."
"Yes,magrand'mère," replied Margot, looking full into the face of the little shop-keeper.
"And yet thou must go," said Madame. "It would offend thy grandpère else. It does not do to offend the old.Tiens!The heart beats too slow, it must not receive the shock,n'est-ce pas?"
"I never wanted to serve in your shop, grand'mère," exclaimed little Margot.
"Ah, but silence, my little beautiful! We have to make the francs to secure the properdotfor thee,mon enfant. Now, let me consider. Thou wilt not go to myétablissementto-morrow, and I will dress thee different. I will not even send thee to the school of la Princesse, but I will myself take thee in my motor car to the château of the Marquis. There I will dispose of thee for one short hour. During that hour thou must play therôleofla malade. Thou must appear worn and pale and ill. Ah, but I am clever enough to manage, and behold assuredly it shall be done. Thou shalt wear the dress ofla malade, and thou must speak low and soft and refuse the food which is offered to thee and which in truth is not worth thy accepting. Now see, behold, be guided by me, thybellegrand'mère, andmonAlphonse will guess nothing."
Little Margot, not being in the least disturbed or annoyed, readily agreed. She returned to sit with her grandfather and kept him in fits of laughter with accounts of her schoolfellows. Meanwhile, Madame was very busy. She wrote two letters, one to the Marquis de Serrègnon, the other to la Princesse, and she kept Margot away from the shop that day. Margot was undoubtedly making the said shop pay, but that did not matter at all, if only the adorable Alphonse was kept composed and happy in his mind.
When the hour approached for little Margot to visit the Duncans in the tumble-down old château, she was dressed very carefully by her grand'mère. In some curious manner the natural colour seemed to depart from her rosy cheeks, her eyes, so dark and brilliant, looked a trifle dull. She wore her school frock of course, but taking her all round, she had a sort of extinguished appearance.
Madame la Comtesse taught her carefully what she had to say.
"'I havemal à la tête,' Thou wilt not say more; thou wilt not say less. The Marquis will be scared for fear thou dost carry the infection. Oh, la, la! It is a good idea, and they will not think of the bright little Comtesse when they see the sad lookingmaladewho cannot eat or say much. Thou must keep all the particulars about theétablissementcloseto thy breast. Thou must not allude to Madame Marcelle. Thou wilt go to her to-morrow morning again as arranged and, behold, I will have refreshments the most enticing for thee on thy return to-day! Now then, my Ma'm'selle, come along! The Lady Hébé will not notice the drooping child, who served her with so many chapeaux and at so great a price. See now, thou wilt he thy old self to-morrow and no one will ever guess our little strategy."
Accordingly Margot, accompanied by grand'mère, arrived at the ancient castle of the Marquis de Serrègnon. Dorothy rushed out to meet her. Margot scrambled weakly out of the motor car, which was closed and which was to call for her again in an hour and a half.
Margot felt terribly inclined to laugh. She longed to say "I am a little shopwoman and this is all nonsense," but if she did so, according to grand'mère, she would destroy the life of that adorable one, Alphonse St. Juste. Accordingly she went languidly into the house and when Dorothy asked her in some surprise what ailed her and why she looked so white and good-for-nothing, Margot said in a voicetrès douce,
"I havemal à la tête, Dorothy."
"Ah, but what a pity that is," said Dorothy, "and we are all so gay, so very, very gay. A whole lot ofchapeaux have been sent to us from Madame Marcelle—for Hébé, of course. I have told Hébé that you are beautiful, Comtesse, but you don't look beautiful to-day."
"It ismal à la tête," repeated Margot, trying to make her voice sound as weary as possible.
"Ah,pauvre petite," said Lady Dorothy. "You must lie on the sofa in this salon.Mon oncleGustave will not come in, because we will ask him not, but you must see Hébé, for I long much to know your opinion of her."
Hébé Duncan at that moment bounded into the room. There was nothing whatever French about her. She was a laughing, highly coloured, rollicking English girl. Her age might have been eighteen—it might have been more, it might have been less. She stared hard for a minute out of her bright eyes at the little Comtesse and then said, "Oh, la, la!" and afterwards went off into fits of laughter.
The little Comtesse murmured, "It isla mal à la tête."
Dorothy put soft cushions under the head that did not ache and a rug over the little feet that pined to scamper about. As soon as ever she had done this, Hébé pulled her out of the room.
Then began a violent conversation on the wide landing outside the Marquis' salon.
Dorothy said, "Impossible!"
Hébé said, "It is true, a certainty!"
Then she re-appeared holding several huge bandboxes in her hands.
"I bought these," she said, "from atrès petiteComtesse at theétablissementof la Madame Marcelle. Would you like to look at them?"
"No," said Margot, and she suddenly began to cry. "I hateétablissements, I hate deceit. I havenotgotmal à la tête. Is there any cold water near?"
Lady Dorothy stared and Lady Hébé frowned. But Margot was only thinking of Uncle Jacko, dear Uncle Jacko, and of grand-dad The Desmond.
"Take me where I can find some water, some icy cold water, please," she said to Dorothy.
Dorothy obeyed in a sort of bewilderment. She took Margot to her own room and soon the whitening process was removed from the little cheeks and the brilliant and lovely colour returned. Margot's eyes sparkled as of old.
"Now you look like yourself," said Dorothy. "You have nomal à la tête."
"None, none, none," cried Margot. "Never had."
"Ah, but how strange," said Lady Dorothy.
"But never mind. Hébé will soon love you. Behold, Hébé, behold! This is my little friend."
"And my little shop-keeper," said Hébé in an angry voice.
Margot's big eyes blazed with a kind of fury.
"And are you really, really going to tell the Marquis?" said the child, her eyes blazing. "Take your chapeaux then, here, and here, and here. I have repented of my lie—I have confessed to you both—but—but——"
She pulled the hats out of their bandboxes and flung them in Hébé's face.
"Now I despise you," she said. "I did what I did to helpma bellegrand'mère and she keeps M. le Comte in all luxury and does everything for me. No, I don't want your tea; I don't want yourgâteaux. I am not ashamed of helpingma bellegrand'mère. I help her a little, and she helps me much, but I will never choose a hat for you again. Understand! You can go to Madame Marcelle and you can spread the news, if you like, that I help a little one who helps me much. Behold, our château! It is neat, it is clean, it is white. It is full of things most beautiful andmongrandpère eats of the best and lives in the best style and he is happy. I will go on helpingma bellegrand'mère and you can do as you please, but I will never choose a hat foryou, Lady Hébé. See, I am off home now. I can easily get back to my comfortable home."
"Oh, but no, Margot, no," exclaimed Dorothy. "Do not be so silly."
"I will not be silly, I will be wise," said Margot. "This is worse than being young-old and old-young. Good-bye, for the present, I do not choose to be a guest and be looked down on. It is not the Irish way, and I did not think until now that it was the French way."
She wrapped her pretty little coat round her shoulders and marched down the avenue with the air of a small duchess.
Nevertheless when Margot got back, which she did before the motor-car had time to call for her, she was met by a singularly discontentedbelle grand'mère.
"Why, my pretty, why dost thou come so soon?" she exclaimed.
"Because I couldn't act a lie, grand'mère, and I had to tell the truth, grand'mère," said Margot. "The Lady Hébé is no lady. She calls herself one, but she is not, and I will never, never sell her another hat."
"Ah,ma petite, what mischief hast thou done!" saidlagrand'mère.
"I care not, I care not at all," said little Margot."I will not act the lie even for thee, grand'mère. I wish that thou wouldst let me go no more to the shop."
"Ah, but thou must—thou art the fortune of theétablissement,ma petite," said grand'mère. "And think what fun it will be selling chapeaux to others and never to the proud Comtesse. We will get someone else for her and thou needst not serve her."
"Très bien," answered little Margot and she entered her grandfather's presence with a toss of her pretty head.
But the next day at school things did not go so well with the little Comtesse. It was quite evident that much as Dorothy had admired her the day before, Hébé had brought her round to the impossibility of having anything to do with a girl who sold hats at a shop. Dorothy not only came round to Hébé's view of the question, but she enlightened her school-fellows with the true status of the little Comtesse.
"She's all a sham," said Dorothy. "I won't speak to her any more, no, not me!"
Margot was beginning to get rather fond of Dorothy, but she took her English friend's desertion very coolly. She thought out matters in her acute little brain. She let the French girls alone, but there were, including herself and Dorothy, sixteenEnglish girls in the school. These girls were all very much about the same age as Margot. She got them into one of the very smallsalons, which abounded in the old palace, now converted into a school. They all looked askance at her, but it was difficult to keep from smiling back into those smiling and beautiful dark eyes and it was still more difficult to resist the dimples that played round the lips and cheeks of the little Comtesse.
"See, behold, listen!" she exclaimed. "Dorothy Duncan does not like me because I help Madame Marcelle in hermagasin. She pretends I am not a lady—that is not true. I am a lady and my Irish grandfather has a title higher up than the stars. What do we think of Comtes in Ireland when we have 'The's' of the most ancient!Ma bellegrand'mère has asked me to help Madame Marcelle a little bit.Ma bellegrand'mère does great things for me and formon bongrandpère. She is a woman oh, of the noblest, and there is not a château greater or better than ours at Arles. Now, behold, listen! What sort of château does the Marquis keep? Is it tidy, is it neat? Are there good things to eat therein? I guess not. Now, if you English girls will take my part I will take you to theétablissementof Madame Marcelle and get you a hat each at cost price. You will have to pay ever so much lessthan the Lady Hébé paid when I flung her chapeaux back into her face."
"Ah, but didst thou, indeed, little one?" said Agnes Martin.
Jane Raynor burst into a fit of laughter. All the English girls with the exception of Dorothy were brought over to Margot in a body and on the following morning she had a tremendous sale of hats, which she gave by Madame la Comtesse's express wish to the bevy of English schoolgirls.
She chose the hats with great care and exquisite taste. Having done this, she went back tola bellegrand'mère and told her that she did not wish to continue at the school with Lady Dorothy.
"I like those who are faithful," said Margot. "She is not faithful and I will have none of her. I will attend in the shop every morning,magrandmère, and you and grandpère can teach me in the afternoon until the happy, happy day when I return to Ireland."
"And dost thou wish to leave us,ma petite?" asked the Comtesse.
"Ah,oui, oui, The Desmond is so very noble," said little Margot.
"Thou must abide with us thy full time. Thou canst not leave until September," saidlaComtesse.
Tears filled the little Comtesse's black eyes.
"I know," she said, "I know. Uncle Jacko will call for me on that day. Ah, but my heart will rejoice, it will sing! But indeed thou art kind,ma belleComtesse, and so is grandpère, but thou hast never seen The Desmond. I will go to him for three months and come back again to thee and will serve for a little time each day in the shop, and hearken, Comtesse, thou wilt get me masters and mistresses next time, for I must learn—yes, I must learn! I will not be an ignorant Comtesse of France, and nothing will persuade me to disgrace The Desmond of Desmondstown."