Red Caps and Lilies by Katharine Adams
CHAPTER IV
JEAN
"Jean!"
Mother Barbette listened. It was the third time she had called withinfive minutes. First it had been "Petit Jean," then "Jean," and the thirdtime there was a note in her voice which meant, "If you know what's bestfor you, you'd better come at once. I know you're hiding somewhere. Thebranches of the pear tree by the old well make good switches!"
She waited, listening. There was no answer except the sleepy twitter ofmeadow larks in the field beyond. Mother Barbette shaded her eyes fromthe hot noon sunshine and looked off across the deep green of grass andtrees. The grass had been freshly cut and mounds of it lay about thecottage dooryard. Its sweet, warm scent was everywhere.
"You are somewhere about, of that I'm sure, and now I'm going to findout!" Mother Barbette's black eyes twinkled mischievously as she spoke."When I went up to the big house with the eggs I heard such a piece ofnews!" she called out.
A green mound moved suddenly in a jerking way, and the next second adark head and two bright black eyes peered out. Then a brown handappeared, closing quickly and just missing an elusive yellow butterfly.Then the whole of the boy came into view. He was covered with grass fromhead to foot. It stuck to his frayed, yellow trousers and had crept downthe collar of his black blouse. It tickled his nose, and he blinked hiseyes for it was even wound into his eyelashes. He had swallowed some ofit, and when he saw his mother's surprised face, he began to laugh, andthen to choke, and she had to slap him on the shoulders before he couldstop. As soon as he could speak, he said eagerly:
"Tell me at once, Petite Mere, tell me what you heard." He caught at herapron and pulled it. "Was there news of Paris, of the young ladies andMonsieur Lisle?"
"Maybe it was that!" Mother Barbette chuckled as she spoke.
"You are teasing me, Petite Mere. Tell me, is the family coming?"
Jean tugged at the blue apron. He was small for his thirteen years, andhad a quaint, babylike face.
"Some of them are coming!" His mother was teasing now.
Jean frowned but he smiled almost at the same time, so that a dimpleshowed in his thin cheek.
"You know it is of Mademoiselle Marie Josephine I would hear. Tell me,is she coming?" he asked breathlessly. Jean] His mothernodded, and he began to jump up and down, up and down, until he couldnot jump any more. Then he threw himself down upon the mound of grassfrom which he had emerged and flung his broad, torn straw hat up in theair, shouting as loud as he could shout, which was very loud indeed. Hismother put both her hands over her ears.
"Hush, you are like a wild animal to-day. Little Mademoiselle will notwish to speak with you if you are rough. Come, I've no time to standidle here. There is so much to do, the apartments to make ready. It isdifferent indeed from the old days, for only the governess and one maid,the little, fat Prote, are to accompany the young ladies. None of theother servants of the Paris household are to come. There will only bethe cook and scullery servants, an upstairs maid or two, and two menservants at Les Vignes--no state, no ceremony, no gaiety of any kind.The messenger who brought the news says that some of the Paris servantshave left, and others are going. He says that they are storming theTuileries palace--the people I mean, thousands of them. Madame laComtesse became alarmed at the sound of battle and the cannonading, andlate last night she sent a rider here. He arrived at mid-afternoon, andwould only stay for a glass of wine and a bite of bread. He said he mustmake haste back again." As Mother Barbette talked, she went inside hercottage door and Jean followed her, giving whoops of delight as he didso. His mother looked at him gravely.
"You need not make so much noise, my child. It is because of bad timesthat the young demoiselles are coming. We are so out of the way here inPigeon Valley, without so much as an inn or a shop. Jacques, the rider,says we may be thankful that we are away from the towns. We are betteroff, he says, just to be here by ourselves in the valley, but we are badenough off, some of us!" Mother Barbette sighed as she went over to herwhite wood table which, having been freshly scrubbed, shone in the latesunshine. "Jacques told many things and I know he spoke the truth, butit is hard to believe them." She wrapped two loaves of bread, whichstood on the table, in a clean towel which she took from a table drawer.
Jean was impressed by his mother's tones, and followed her over to thetable.
"What did he say, Petite Mere?" he asked.
"Many things which you must not hear, or you will be having bad dreamsas you did after eating so much of the cherry tart that the kindNannette at the big house made for me on my birthday. Run now with thisbread to your cousins." Mother Barbette sighed as she handed the bundleto Jean, who put out his under lip sulkily.
"They had bread on Monday. Grigge is a horrid boy. I do not like any ofthem," he objected. Nevertheless he took the bundle and started slowlytoward the door. He knew that it would not do to trifle with his motherthat day, but there was nothing he disliked more than a visit to hiscousins, who lived in a straggling settlement of poor hovels near theentrance to Les Vignes.
"Do not grumble or complain or you will have a good taste of thepear-tree switch. Your cousins, have nothing, and never have hadanything. You should not be selfish just because you have food everyday, and goat's milk too. It is only because of the kindness of the oldComte Saint Frere, who left in his will the word that you and I were tohave our maintenance here in the cottage, that we are not begging forour food in the town squares. You know that well. It is not Madame laComtesse who cares where we are or what we do. Run now, and take shameto yourself for your greediness!"
Mother Barbette was very uneasy and this made her tongue sharper thanusual. She stood at the door watching Jean. He was all she had in theworld, and when he looked at her with his merry, naughty, black eyes sheseemed to see the young Jean Barbette who had wooed and married her, andwho had died some few years back defending the old Comte Saint Frerefrom an attack by a stag when on a hunt. The fine old comte had neverstarved the peasants working for him, or laughed at their misery. Theyoung Comte Lisle, too, had something gallant and lovable about him, inspite of the proud way he held his head. Mother Barbette sighed again,but soon she remembered that she had no time to stand and dream, andimmediately began to busy herself about the cottage, humming the while.After giving a stir to the soup in the iron stock pot which hung over alow fire in her wide, stone fireplace, she went out, not even closingthe cottage door after her. A loud caw greeted her as she stood for amoment drinking in the clear air. It was sunset time, and the sky showedsalmon pink through the waving greenness of the trees. Mother Barbetteturned and saw a black crow sitting on the stone window ledge.
"You need not caw to me, Pince Nez. You need not say you are sorrybecause you stole my thimble and tape last night and went off and hidthem somewhere. Pince Nez! What a silly name even if Little Mademoiselledid give it to you!" Madame Barbette smiled as she hurried down the pathand then, to her right, up the driveway to the great house, which loomedgrimly against the sunset-tinted sky. The gamekeeper's lodge was nearthe house, and so it was only a walk of a few minutes. There had notbeen another gamekeeper since her Jean had been killed, for the oldcomte had died and the young Comte Lisle was too young for hunting.Louise Barbette, with her boy, lived on at the lodge, making a scantyliving for both of them by sewing when she could get any to do, and byweeding her tiny garden, which furnished all the food they had, exceptfor the poor flour which made the thin, dark loaves of bread which shehad sent by Jean to their poorer relatives.
Jean ran across the field and into the wood beyond. Every now and thenhe would give a clear, high call and then he would stop and listen. Oncethere was an answering call and then he laughed and his thin little facewith its funny dimple wrinkled with delight.
"I'm happy and that's why the lark answered. They never do if I'mcross," he thought, and began to sing: "Tra la la, tra la la! They'll behere the day after to-morrow. I shall hide behind the poplar trees bythe gate and see
The way was long through the wood, which was part of the Saint Freredemesne, but it was beautiful and the air was cool and fragrant. After awhile Jean began to run. It was fun to run in and out of the sweetgreenness, always following the path which ended finally at a low stonepaling. Jean could see, not far off, the towering arch of the greatentrance way to the vast estate. He was never allowed to go in and outthat way. He climbed the paling and ran across a field until he came toa dusty highway. He shuffled along the road, enjoying the thick cloudsof dust that he raised about him. Little Mademoiselle would be coming intwo days! He was on his way to his cousins--that was the only bit ofblackness on his horizon. His cousins lived in one of a row of poorhovels situated some little way back from the roadside. Women sat in therude doorways, glad of a breath of the fresh air. They were gaunt,sad-looking women, old long before their time because of years of heavywork in the fields, little food, and no rest at all. Children swarmedabout the doorways and in the rough-looking stubble field beyond.
Jean stopped before the next to the last hut, where a lanky boy inragged clothes stood slouching against the doorway. He had a long, uglyface and he was so thin that he seemed nothing but bones and eyes. Hesnatched one of the loaves of bread from under Jean's arm and beganeating it, tearing at the end of it with his teeth. The second loaf andthe towel fell to the ground as Jean caught the other end of the loafthat Grigge was devouring and pulled at it with all his might.
"You shall not eat it all up. The others shall have their share," hecried. But Grigge, who, in spite of his thinness, was stronger thanJean, being two years his senior and used to rough work, pulled himselfaway, bread and all, and went inside the hut. Jean turned around only tofind his two younger cousins and the children next door fighting for thesecond loaf. He knew that there was nothing he could do to separate themor reason with them and so, having brought the bread, he could onlyleave them to fight it out. There were a dozen children now fighting forthe loaf. Jean watched them for a moment and then turned back towardhome. A voice called to him from the doorway in mocking tones. It wasGrigge. He spoke between mouthfuls.
"You think you are very fine because you live with the gentry. You thinkyou are a prince because you live within the gates!"
Jean turned and shook his fists at him and then ran on. He was in nomood for a fight with his cousin just then. Little rosy clouds floatedin the sky, the air was full of the scent of the warm earth and coolwind. Jean began to run. He ran on faster and faster. He liked to thinkthat he was flying. He was going home to a bowl of hot soup and thecomfort of his mother's presence.
As he ran through the wood, Jean began to feel very sorry indeed for hiscousins. His mother was right. They had never had anything. He was sorrythat he had not wanted to take them the bread. His mother's cottage cameinto view as he reached the clearing in the wood. Mother Barbette wassitting on the doorstep knitting and the white deal table was drawnclose to the door. When he came up to her he threw both arms around herand gave her a hug.
"I am a good boy. I know I am, Petite Mere, because the lark answeredwhen I called. It never does if I am naughty."
"Your soup is keeping hot over the fire. Dish it out carefully into yourown blue bowl. There is a piece of bread on the table. You may eat itwith your soup here at the table by the door. The night is so fine thatI could not stay inside."
"I would rather sit on the doorstep beside you, Petite Mere," Jeananswered, bringing his porringer of soup, and sitting down at hismother's feet.
He did not talk at all until he had finished his soup and bread, for hewas very hungry. When he was finished he went in and peered inside thestock pot, but there was no more soup.
"I am still hungry, Petite Mere. I want more bread," he complained,coming to the door.
"You cannot have any more bread to-day. You have had enough. Perhapswhen the Little Mademoiselle comes she will give you a piece of whitebread and fig jam," returned his mother.
Jean's face brightened and he leaned against his mother's shoulder.
"You will make the jam for the big house again this year. LittleMademoiselle and I will watch and taste and then take some bread and jamto the woods for a picnic. We shall go to our favorite spot near thesundial. I love it best of all, Petite Mere. It is all dark and woodsyand then there is suddenly the open clearing and the sundial!" Jeanbegan to hop about the low-ceilinged room, from one end to the other. Hewould have liked to have jumped up on Mother Barbette's treasure, herfour-poster bed, but he did not dare to do so.
"You are so young, Jean. Will you ever grow up? Ah, I cannot credit whatJacques told us, but it must be true. Those brave fellows from Provencemarched all the way to Paris! Jacques left while they were storming theking's palace! What times! What days!" Mother Barbette shook her headover her knitting. Then she remarked to Jean, "Your cousins werethankful for the bread, I'll wager!"
Jean nodded vigorously.
"They were as hungry as Wolf, the lodgekeeper's dog, after he was lostfor four days. They tore the bread to bits and all the other childrencame. They were fighting over one loaf when I came away."
Mother Barbette dropped her knitting in her lap and bowed her head.
"Grigge was the worst of them all, Petite Mere. He snatched a whole loaffor himself and he taunted me again. Grigge is not my friend."
"He is always hungry, poor Grigge. He works all day at the olive millfor so little a pittance; it is no wonder that they starve." MotherBarbette sighed as she spoke and Jean patted her cheek.
"You are not to do that again, Petite Mere. You should smile becauseLittle Mademoiselle is coming! I am going to find Dian and tell him thegood news!" Jean made a dash at Pince Nez who had alighted on the backof Mother Barbette's chair. Then he ran with a whoop down the littlebox-bordered path, through a hedgelike opening into the forest, onthrough piney sweetness, through deep, dark arches of mingling boughs,on and on, until he came to a great sweep of sloping meadows.
Jean saw the grey, moving mass of a flock of sheep in the distance, andhe did not stop running until he had come up to them. Some one waswalking beside them, a tall man in a grey smock, his long, red locksfalling about his shoulders.
"Dian, Dian, they are coming to Les Vignes, the Little Mademoiselle andthe other young ladies!" Jean cried.
The shepherd smiled a slow, quiet smile.
"Yes, I know that they are coming. I saw Jacques the runner. They arecoming, but the young Comte Lisle remains in Paris with his mother," hesaid.
Jean skipped along beside the shepherd. They were great friends and itwas always easy for him to talk to Dian.
"I was very naughty to-day. I did not want to take the bread to Griggeand the others. I do not like Grigge. Why do you take your time to teachhim to read and write, Dian? He is not at all a nice boy. He is like awolf."
The shepherd had reached the sheepfold door, and he stood with bothhands against it, ready to push it open. He paused at Jean's words,uttering no reproach, but looking off across the field to where adelicate mist mingled with the startling beauty of the sunset sky. Jeanstood watching him digging his bare toes into the soft earth.
"Grigge will learn," was Dian's answer as he went inside the sheepfold.