Kitabı oku: «The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XVIII
One Afternoon
In her surmise as to what would actually occur as the result of her design, Julie Dupont was not far from the truth.
First Marguerite accepted the reality of her invitation, which Julie explained she had been asked to deliver, with openly revealed pleasure. Expressing her thanks to Bettina, Bettina received the impression that Mrs. Burton must have asked Marguerite, having decided that four would make a pleasanter number for their expedition than three. Mentioning the same fact to Mrs. Burton, her presumption was that either David Hale or Bettina had included Marguerite in the invitation.
She was a little annoyed at first, preferring that one of the Camp Fire girls should have been selected as her companion rather than Marguerite Arnot. She could only suppose that Bettina and David Hale would wish to talk to each other the greater part of the time during their second visit to Queen Marie Antoinette’s secret garden. But apparently one could not be sure, as they had chosen to invite Marguerite.
She did not dislike the young French girl, she thought her both talented and pretty, but not especially interesting, so that with several hours of each other’s society they might become bored.
Moreover, Mrs. Burton had selfishly wished to rest and dream in the old garden, since gardens are intended for rest and dreams. And one could manage to chaperon two such well behaved persons as Bettina and David and at the same time enjoy one’s own thoughts.
But with Marguerite Arnot as her constant companion, Mrs. Burton beheld her dreams dissolving into futile conversation.
The following day when David Hale arrived, seeing Marguerite standing with Mrs. Burton and Bettina and evidently dressed to accompany them, naturally he expressed no surprise. He may even have been secretly pleased by the addition of Marguerite’s society.
Never was there a lovelier spring afternoon! And in no place in the world can the spring be more enchanting than in Paris and the country surrounding Paris.
Instead of a motor car, David Hale had secured the services of an old fashioned Paris cab for their expedition. He wished to make the drive to the Queen’s garden a slow one, as it was not of great length.
First they drove through the town of Versailles. Then they entered the park near an avenue which led past the Little Trianon. They passed The Temple of Love, a charming little building formed of columns with a white cupola and a statue of the Cupid inside. Next they drove slowly about the hamlet, a cluster of little rustic houses near the Little Trianon, where Queen Marie Antoinette and her maids, dressed in linen costumes and straw hats, used to play at making butter and cheese.
Not far from the hamlet, David ordered the cab to halt, then he and Bettina led the way to search for the secret garden.
It was not so easy to find as they had both supposed. But it was Bettina, who again first discovered the stone wall and the little secret door inside it. This afternoon the walls of the garden were covered with trailing rose vines. Before the little secret door stood the old French gardener who had formerly eyed Bettina with such disfavor.
He was smiling this afternoon, however, and held the gate key in his hand.
As the four visitors entered the narrow passage one at a time, they felt themselves to have entered fairyland.
Inside no stone wall was now to be seen, only a high wall of roses with a low border of evergreens beneath.
A great variety of trees were in blossom. Swinging from the branches of one tree to another high overhead were garlands of roses.
It was a garden such as Titania, the Queen of the Fairies, would have chosen for her habitation.
Forgetting Marie Antoinette, for whom the garden had been originally created in the days before the unhappy Queen could have dreamed of the fate awaiting her, Mrs. Burton could think only of Shakespeare’s beautiful play of “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” In just such trees Ariel must have swung; through just such winding, sunlit, fragrant paths old Bottome, the donkey, must have wandered, his great ears hung with flowers.
During the first quarter of an hour, Mrs. Burton, the two girls and David Hale, accompanied by the French gardener wandered about the little garden together, their only conversation repeated exclamations of delight.
Then Mrs. Burton suggested that she would like to sit down for a few moments. The two girls could continue to walk with David Hale until one or the other grew tired.
A short time after, Marguerite Arnot came back alone and took a place beside the Camp Fire guardian.
They were occupying two rustic chairs under a Louisiana cypress tree for which the gardens of the Little Trianon are famous.
“Please don’t make any attempt to talk to me, Mrs. Burton. I understand that you would prefer to enjoy the beauty about us in silence and I think I should also.”
So at first Mrs. Burton made no effort to talk, having many things to occupy her thoughts beside her own personal concerns.
In the past few weeks it had appeared as if the peace o’ the world, which was to be wrought out in France was again endangered, not only by Germany’s bluster, but by a misunderstanding between France and the United States. But today the news in the papers was again reassuring. Mrs. Burton was thinking that perhaps after all the details of peace might be arranged before she sailed for England, when hearing an unexpected sound, she turned toward her companion. The sound had been a little like a hastily swallowed sob.
Marguerite Arnot’s eyes were full of tears.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Burton,” she apologized, “Really there isn’t anything in the world that specially troubles me. I think it is the loveliness of this little garden that has made me emotional. I was thinking of a queer jumble of things, of the fact that the woman for whom this garden was created was executed, and then of myself, an odd combination I appreciate. I was recalling Miss Lord’s kindness to me and how much I have enjoyed the past weeks with her. And then I was sorry that the house in Versailles is soon to be closed and Miss Lord to return to southern France and her reclamation work. I confess I rather dread going back to my former life in Paris. As I have lost my old position it may be difficult for me to find enough sewing to keep me busy now that so many people are in mourning.”
In a moment forgotten was the garden and the world struggle for peace as Mrs. Burton, womanlike, became absorbed in the individual personal problem of the girl beside her. Forgotten also was her own impression that Marguerite was not interesting and might therefore bore her.
Here was a girl who had her own way to make and was bravely setting about the task. There was no other human situation which interested Mrs. Burton one half so much, or gave her the same instinctive desire to be of service. And this was not only her instinct, but a part of her long Camp Fire training, first as a Camp Fire girl and later as a guardian.
“But you are not to trouble about your future, Marguerite,” she argued, although a few moments before no such idea had entered her mind. “For one thing you may always count on the fact that Aunt Patricia never under any possible circumstances deserts a friend. Besides, Bettina Graham has a plan in mind which she has suggested to me and concerning which she has written her mother. So far she has received no answer, but afterwards I know she wishes to talk of it with you. Do you see Bettina and Mr. Hale? I don’t wish them to forget where to look for us.”
A little farther along, near the labyrinth where Bettina had once lost her way during her first evening alone in the secret garden, Mrs. Burton and Marguerite at this instant saw the blue of Bettina’s dress shining between the green leaves of the intervening foliage. Standing over her and looking down upon her was David Hale.
Mrs. Burton also became aware of the fact that Marguerite Arnot immediately colored and glanced away. Her sympathy of a few moments before was now doubled.
What a contrast the lives of the two girls offered, a contrast which Marguerite Arnot could scarcely fail to appreciate, especially if she had allowed herself to feel attracted by the young American who had been so intimate a member of their household for the past weeks.
It was not that Bettina possessed merely the gifts of beauty and cleverness and a charming nature, Marguerite Arnot might also lay claim to these. But Bettina had worldly possessions as well, a distinguished father, a mother who was one of the most fascinating women in Washington, a younger brother – all adoring her. She had wealth also, perhaps not wealth as Americans regard it, but certainly what would have been a fortune to the young French girl.
David Hale was ambitious, never having hesitated to reveal his intention to fight his way to a foremost position. Between the two girls, if he should ever care for either one of them, how much more Bettina would have to offer him!
At the moment of Mrs. Burton’s reflection, David Hale was talking with great earnestness to Bettina.
“Is it true that you may be leaving Versailles in a few weeks, perhaps before the Peace Conference is finally ended?”
Bettina nodded.
“Yes, I am going to England with Captain and Mrs. Burton for a visit and then home. I am glad and sorry; there will never be so wonderful a time in my life as these weeks of the Peace Conference, and yet I have always wished to spend a summer in England.”
“Aren’t you sorry to say goodby except to France?” David Hale asked.
Again Bettina laughed.
“Why of course I am, sorry to say goodby to you. But I hope you mean to come to see us some day in Washington. At least you know my mother is lovely. And may I continue to wish you luck with your work here at the Peace Congress. I hope you are accomplishing all you hoped for and that some splendid new opportunity will come to you when this work is finished.”
David Hale shook his head.
“No, I am not accomplishing everything I wish to accomplish.” Then apparently without any connection with his former remark, he suddenly added:
“I wonder if you would mind telling me how old you are?”
Bettina colored slightly.
“I am eighteen. Is that old enough to begin hiding one’s age? I wonder why you wish to know at present?”
“Can’t you guess at least something of my reason? Perhaps I shall not wait to come to see you first in Washington. When the Peace Conference is ended I too shall have earned a holiday in England!”
Bettina had been looking for the past few moments down upon a bed of white fleur-de-lis, which were just opening into snow white blooms. Now she moved away a few steps.
“Suppose we go now and join the others. They may grow weary of waiting. Mrs. Burton will be interested to know we may see you again in England. But I shall always remember our meeting in this little garden. Thank you for bringing me here again now that the winter cold has gone and the early flowers are in bloom!”
At this moment the old French gardener, appearing in the path before Bettina and David, with a low bow presented Bettina with a bouquet.
Afterwards, as she came toward them, Mrs. Burton observed Marguerite Arnot’s eyes travel from Bettina’s flowers to a long study of the other girl’s face.
CHAPTER XIX
L’Envoi to Glorious France
A short time after, trunks were being brought down from the attic of the house at Versailles and being gradually packed. Other arrangements were also being made in a leisurely fashion for the closing of the house which Miss Patricia had rented only for a season.
She had grown impatient to return to her work in the devastated districts of France, for now that the war was over the appeal for food and other aid was growing more insistent than ever, and idleness, such as she felt the months at Versailles had represented, at no time really interested Miss Patricia Lord.
Captain Richard Burton had arrived in Versailles a week before and was compelled to leave for England within a short time on a special mission for the Red Cross.
The Camp Fire girls were therefore separating for the first time in many months, since Vera Lagerloff and Alice Ashton were to accompany Miss Lord and continue the relief work in France, while the other girls were going with Captain and Mrs. Burton to spend the summer in England.
Apparently definite arrangements of some character had been made for each person who shared Miss Patricia’s hospitality during the memorable spring in France, save the two members of her household, Marguerite Arnot and Julie Dupont and the new group of French Camp Fire girls, the little French midinettes, for whom Miss Patricia was acting as Camp Fire guardian and whom she apparently had taken under her special protection.
On this morning Marguerite Arnot and Julie Dupont were both at work in the big room which had been devoted to their use ever since their installation at the house in Versailles. At the same time they had continued their work they had received a generous recompense for their service, so that, as the two girls had been at no expense, they both possessed more money than at any previous time in their lives.
Julie was too young to do sewing of an important character; at present she was engaged in pulling basting threads from an evening dress of Mrs. Burton’s in which Marguerite Arnot had made a slight alteration.
She was frowning with her dark, heavy brows drawn close together and her lips puckered, yet in spite of her evident bad temper, she looked prettier and in better health than in a long time.
“I have something to tell you, Marguerite,” she began, “although you need not offer me advice in return.
“Your friend, Miss Lord, invited me into her room last night and told me she would pay my expenses at a boarding school for the next two years if I chose to go. The school would not be an expensive one, as she had many other demands upon her fortune which she plainly considered more important. She also announced that I particularly required a discipline which I had never received. Did you know, Marguerite, that Miss Lord has also asked the group of girls with whom I used to live, her own French Camp Fire group, to go with her to work among the poor children in the devastated country? They are to sew for the poor and help in any way possible in order that they may be trained perhaps as teachers for the home for orphan children which Miss Lord hopes at some future time to establish in France.”
Marguerite Arnot stopped sewing for a moment.
“I trust you accepted Miss Lord’s offer, Julie. You will probably never have another such opportunity in your life and Miss Patricia is right when she says you are in need of discipline. How little like a fairy godmother Miss Patricia looks and yet what wonderful things she does for everybody!”
“Yes, for everybody except you, Marguerite Arnot, and yet I once thought you were her favorite. If it were not for you I should accept Miss Lord’s offer; I am not so stupid that I do not realize what even two years of education may do toward giving me a better start in life. Besides, I know my father would have wished me to accept; he was always insisting that I had no proper education without making the effort to see that I did have one. Really, Marguerite, I think you might have done something for yourself, so that I should not have to worry over you.’
In spite of Julie’s absurdity, the older girl smiled and sighed almost in the same instant, since even so unreasonable an affection was not to be disregarded.
“I don’t know just what remarkable future you think I should have worked out for myself in the past few months, Julie. Just the same I think I can continue to make my living without your sacrificing yourself. Perhaps with your cleverness and with Miss Patricia to help you by paying for your schooling you may turn out to be a famous woman some day and be able to care for me after all! I am not so clever as you are!”
Julie nodded.
“No, you are not, that is why I am so anxious for you to marry. You really need some one to look after you. It was for that reason I arranged for you to go to the Queen’s secret garden. I have been hoping Mr. Hale would become more interested in you, but I’m afraid after all he prefers Miss Graham. You would have liked him to care for you, wouldn’t you, Marguerite?”
Julie’s state of mind, her amazing candor were the attributes of a thoroughly untrained child, nevertheless Marguerite Arnot’s long patience could endure no more.
“Never make a speech of that kind to me again as long as you live, Julie. But one thing I would like to understand. What do you mean by saying you arranged for me to go to the Queen’s secret garden? Was I invited by Mrs. Burton, Bettina Graham, or Mr. Hale?”
Julie shrugged her little French shoulders.
“You were invited by no one of them, your invitation came from me. I simply pretended to you that you were asked, thinking you might make the best of the opportunity. But since you had an agreeable time and nothing happened I don’t see the difference.”
Annoyed by her older friend’s manner Julie had begun her speech in anger, but at its conclusion she was also a little frightened.
Without replying Marguerite Arnot arose and left the room.
In Mrs. Burton’s sitting-room, she was fortunate enough to discover both Mrs. Burton and Bettina Graham, who had been reading a letter together and discussing it.
“I am so glad it is you, Marguerite,” Mrs. Burton declared, as Marguerite entered after knocking. “Bettina and I were just planning to send for you to ask if you would have a talk with us. I suppose you know that Aunt Patricia and I have been arguing as to whether you are to stay with her in France for the relief work or to come to England for the summer with me. But as a matter of fact Aunt Patricia really agrees with me and we both feel you have worked long enough for the time being and are in need of a real holiday. So first of all, will you come with us to England, Marguerite, as one of my Camp Fire girls? Afterwards, Bettina’s mother, who is my dearest friend and the most charming woman in the world besides, wishes you to come to the United States if you like and first of all to her home in Washington. The opportunities for your work ought to be better in the United States in the next few years than in France, and Mrs. Graham will be able to give you a start in Washington and take care of you and be very grateful to you in the bargain.”
“But Mrs Burton,” Marguerite protested, a little overcome by so much generosity and such a bewildering number of opportunities, “you will be good enough to give me time to think over what you have proposed. Of course I know I shall love to go to England for the summer, but the United States seems so far away. What I really came down to see you for was to apologize; I did not know until a moment ago that no one of you invited me on your excursion to the Queen’s garden the other afternoon. It was a wretched mistake and I’m sorry, I can’t explain exactly what happened or why I thought I was asked without involving some one else.”
“Then don’t attempt it for goodness sake, Marguerite, because it was delightful to have you!” Bettina answered quickly, sympathizing with the other girl’s embarrassment, although not understanding the situation.
“It was really a piece of good fortune, wasn’t it after all, Marguerite, a piece of good fortune for me, since it afforded me my only chance for a talk with you alone since our acquaintance?” Mrs. Burton added. “Now you two girls please go away and leave me, because I have some most important work to do. I must write Madame Clermont instructions and suggestions regarding the future of the Camp Fire organization in France.”
Ten days later, accompanied by Marguerite Arnot and five of the American Camp Fire girls, Captain and Mrs. Burton sailed for England.
They were crossing from Boulogne to Folkestone on a late spring afternoon; it was toward the close of a warm and quiet day so that the water was still and blue.
On this passage the little channel steamer was largely filled by British officers and soldiers returning home after service in France.
As the boat pushed off from the French shore a farewell shout rang out from the people crowding the dock; from somewhere back in the old French town a Cathedral bell began chiming an evening hymn.
A British officer chanced to be standing beside Mrs. Burton, both of them leaning over the railing watching the receding line of shore.
“It has been a great adventure, Madame, a world adventure, this fighting for brotherhood in France. I see you are an American woman, yet whether or not one ever returns to these shores, the old axiom is now forever true, every one of us who has lived in France during the war will henceforward have two countries – his own and Glorious France!”
The officer, lifting his hand, saluted the French shore.
