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 employés 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 wenttowards 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 odorof 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 asthey 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 theothers, 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.
"WHAT'S THE MATTER NOW?" HE CRIED ANGRILY."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 theporch. 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 lethim 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 Françoise'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 Françoise'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 theirfathers, 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 Françoise, 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.
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 Françoise'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 bemade 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 betoo 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 inthe 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 ratsseemed 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.
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.
"Theyarebeautiful."
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 veryinconvenient 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 Françoise'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.
SHE HAD SOME TIME AGO DECIDED ON THE SHAPE.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 forthe 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 Françoise'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 wasdisturbed 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 tobanish 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 ina 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.
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 Françoise 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 fromthe 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 goright," 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, beganto 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 hersand 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 perchwas 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 hisplace 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 beeneaten, 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?