03 The Princess of the Chalet School (15 page)

They were met by the Head, who had a great gladness in her eyes. Catching Elisaveta in her arms, she said with a sob in her voice, ‘All is well, darling! A wire had just come, and your father had recovered consciousness. He will get better from the concussion soon, and the broken leg is only a matter of time.’

Elisaveta clung to her. ‘Is it true?’ she gasped.

‘Quite true, honey. Here’s the telegram!’ She put it into the child’s hand, and then turned to welcome her guests. ‘I am so glad to see you. It is splendid to have my old girls back again! We shall be going in to
Mittagessen
in a few minutes no. Come along in and wash your hands. There will be great excitement when the girls see you.’

They went in, leaving Elisaveta still standing, reading and re-reading the precious wire which had brought back her happiness. She forgot all about
Mittagessen
until Joey came to fetch her; then she could do nothing but beam at them all while she hugged it to her.

‘Poor kiddy!’ said Miss Bettany, watching her from the staff table. ‘She was heart-broken over the letter a while ago. I think she hardly realizes that it is all right now.’

Herr Marani gave the child a fatherly look as he replied. ‘She is only very young,
,mein Fraülein
. What a burden royalty is to lay on such little shoulders. I am thankful my children need never feel the weight of it!’

Then the talk turned to the school, in which he took a deep interest, and they forgot about Elisaveta for the time being.

When the meal was over, Miss Bettany announced that as
three
old girls had come at once she would excuse all lessons for the afternoon, and they would have a picnic in the pine-woods instead.

‘Golloptious!’ sighed Joey under her breath.

The unknown expression roused Elisaveta from her trance of happiness. ‘What was it you said, Jo?’ she asked.

Jo had the grace to look ashamed of herself. ‘I meant “tophole”,’ she amended her speech hastily. ‘Won’t it be gorgeous – a picnic in the woods! And it
is
so hot to-day! I say, Elisaveta,’ she went on in an undertone,

‘I’m awfully glad your father is getting better! We all are, you know. I expect it’s partly that as well, really.’

‘What is?’ asked Elisaveta, bewildered.

‘Why, the hol., of course! We’ll get Margia and the others, and go
Blauberen
-hunting, shall we? Then Marie might make us some jam – if we get enough, that is!’

‘And don’t eat all you pick,’ added Juliet, who had caught the last part of this speech. ‘Are you going to take Rufus, Joey?’

‘Rather! Rufus loves picnics,’ replied Joey, who was devoted to the big St. Bernard dog whom she had rescued from a watery grave when he was a puppy of a few days old, and whose only criticism of the Zillerthal expedition had been a complaint that it was hard lines that Rufus couldn’t go too. But, as her sister had pointed out very gently but quite firmly, it was expecting too much to want to take a huge animal like him on a railway journey, unless it was absolutely unavoidable. They all rushed about after the meal was over, getting ready, and nearly driving Marie to distraction with their demands. At last they were all ready, and then they set off. Rufus leading the way with big bounds, while the girls streamed along behind, carrying baskets full of everything they could find. They would have to be back early, so that the visitors might catch the last boat, as they had only come for the day, so they were all determined to make the most of their time.

The spot they made for was a cool, shady opening among the trees, where they often took their meals on holidays. They all knew it by this time and the middles rushed gaily on ahead, to set their baskets down and make all their arrangements quickly. Marie had put the coffee into flasks, as it was forbidden to light a fire among the trees. It had been a very dry summer, and everything was like tinder. Flasks were not so romantic as a gipsy fire, as Joey remarked, but they did save trouble. The girls found their camping-ground, planted the things ready, and then went off on their various amusements, leaving Miss Bettany to entertain Herr Marani and the juniors, while they scattered, some to gather sticks to take home to Marie, who always declared that no sticks heated her stoves so well as those brought from the woods in handfuls; other to wander among the trees; and the members of that done-with-society, the S.S.M., to gather bilberries for the jam they all loved.

The Robin had attached herself to Joey and Elisaveta, who picked together, so she kept them from making any wild experiments, as they had to look after her. It was just as well. Joey’s imagination was given to running wild when she was excited, and generally led her – and other people – into scrapes. As it was, the three clambered about the lower slopes of the mountain, picking as fast as they could, and blueing their fingers and mouths with the berries with beautiful impartiality. Their wanderings led them away from the others, and presently they found themselves near the little path which led over the shoulder of the mountain to Seespitz. It was little used, as it was a wearisome way, and only the folk of the Tiern Valley troubled it as a rule. This afternoon it lay in the hot sunshine, solitary and warm, with tiny green beetles creeping over it, and shy woodland things running along. Joey pointed to a felled log which lay nearby. ‘Let’s go and set down for a minute or two,’ she said. ‘I’m awfully hot.’

‘And the Robin looks tired,’ Elisaveta chimed in.

‘I’m not tireder than you are!’ said the Robin indignantly. ‘I can walk ever so. Can’t I Zoë?’

‘You can,’ agreed Joey. ‘All the same, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to rest a bit before we go back. Come on!’

They trotted over to it, and disposed themselves comfortably on it.

‘We’ve got lots of berries,’ said Elisaveta, tilting her basket to look at its contents the better. ‘D’you think there’ll be enough for jam, Joey?’

‘Rather! Enough – if the others have got as much as us – to make jam for the whole winter,’ declared Joey.

‘Ouf! I’m hot!’ She mopped her face with a handkerchief that looked as if it had been used for a pen-wiper, and then leaned back against a branch which had been left on the log. ‘Let’s sing,’ she proposed.

‘Well, sing something
I
know,’ pleaded Elisaveta.

‘Righto!’ Joey wriggled a little farther back, and then opened her mouth: Das liebe kleine Bäumchen hier ist.

The others took it up at the end of the first line, singing gaily of the dear little tree which had grown up with the singer. They all sang well, but Jo’s was a golden voice, round and clear, with something of the unearthly sweetness of a chorister’s notes in it. It filled the lazy summer air, and reached the ears of two who had come there to discuss their plans. At the sound they started.

‘Boys’ voices,’ remarked the smaller of the two.

‘Noisy brats!’ remarked his companion. But as the clear notes welled up, even he listened. The song finished, and their was a pause. Then the voices began again. They sang ‘The Woodman’; then there was silence.

‘Go and fetch them here, Ternikai,’ said the bigger man.

M. Ternikai Learns Something

The children had stopped singing. They could not decide on what to sing next. Elisaveta was all for ‘Hark, Hark, the Lark’; the Robin wanted to sing ‘The Red Sarafan,’ which her mother had sung to her often when she was a baby; Joey inclined to ‘Das Lindenbaum’.

‘I don’t know either that or Robin’s song,’ said Elisaveta decisively. ‘We ought to sing something we all know – and we all know “The Lark”.’

‘I’m so sick of it!’ grumbled Joey. ‘If you
won’t
sing either of the other two’ – ‘I can’t!’ Elisaveta chipped in – ‘at least let’s sing something we haven’t been yelling away at for the last month!’

‘
Do
sing “The Red Sarafan”!’ implored the Robin. ‘Me, I will teach him to you.’

Elisaveta shook her head. ‘I don’t want to learn it,’ she said. ‘It’s a horrid
Russian
song!’

‘It was mamma’s song!’ said the baby quickly.

‘Well, anyway, I’m not going to learn Russian! It’s a hateful language, and they are hateful people!’

Elisaveta was hot and tired, and she felt cross.

‘It’s a very beautiful language,’ Joey contradicted her. ‘Some of the Russian folk-stories are the loveliest in the world. But we won’t sing if you are going to be bad-tempered about it!’

They were all getting rather quarrelsome, and what might have happened it is not hard to guess; but at that moment Ternikai appeared round the bend in the path. The children looked up, surprised, as they heard his footsteps on the hard road. Then Elisaveta realized who it was. She got to her feet, unconsciously assuming her little princess air. ‘
Grüss Gott
, Signor Ternikai,’ she said as he come up, giving him the pretty old greeting of the Tyrol. ‘Why are you here?’

He would have taken her hand and kissed it, but she drew back. Something in her was turning her against this very respectful and courteous stranger, even though he had told her that her father had him sent.

He flushed as she backed, and bit his lips angrily. Then he remembered that anger would be fatal to the schemes he and his master had in view, so he forced back his annoyance, and answered humbly, ‘I am still watching over you, madame. The Little Lady of Belsornia shall have no cause to complain of my faithfulness.’ He spoke in Belsornian, which Jo was beginning to understand, though the Robin didn’t know a word.

Elisaveta bowed. ‘You are very good, signor, but I am quite safe here. My headmistress is just down in the trees, and all the others are near.’

Ternikai thought that it was just as well that his master had not ordered him to carry her off now, if that were the case. Then he caught Jorey’s big eyes fastened full on his face, and turned away from her. There was something in that steady gaze which he distrusted.

‘There are two of my friends,’ said Elisaveta, waving her hand to them. ‘La Signorina Josephine Bettany and La Signorina Robin Humphries.’

He bowed to them, wishing as he did so, that he could tell Joey to remove her gaze. The Robin had got behind Elisaveta, and was peeping at him from the place of refuge.

The man transferred his attention to the Princess. ‘I have read the newspapers, madame. I trust that his Royal Highness the Crown Prince is likely to do well?’

‘He is much better already,’ replied Elisaveta, forgetting her dislike of him for the moment. ‘Madame has had a telegram, and it says that it is only a matter of time before he is quite recovered again.’

If Ternikai was upset by this news he did not show it. On the contrary, he smiled, as if it was the best thing he had heard for years, and said, ‘It would, indeed, be a terrible thing if anything were to happen to him. He is needed by the country!’

Elisaveta was not sure what she ought to say. Joey answered for her. ‘We are all glad that his Royal Highness is getting better,’ she said in her perfect, fluent French, which she guessed he knew, since Elisaveta had told her that it was the court language, and that most people of Belsornia could speak it. The Belsornian tongue, made up, as it is, of words taken from Italian, Rumanian, and Greek, is difficult to most foreigners; and even Jo herself, who generally excelled at languages, had not found it at all easy, though she had persuaded Elisaveta to speak it to her every day, so that she might learn it. It was one of her ambitions to know as many languages as she could. French and German were as natural to her as her own mother-tongue now; and she knew enough Italian to have been able to manage quite well if she were ever stranded in Italy.

Russian she had coaxed the Robin’s father to teach her one holiday, when they had been up at the Sonnalpe, where he acted as secretary to Dr. Jem. She could understand it fairly well, and could speak, though slowly.

Her written Russian was very poor, but Captain Humphries let her write to him once a week, and he always corrected her letters, and returned them to her, with explanations of her mistakes written at the side.

Jo had no idea as yet what a very good thing it was that she had been seized with the craze for learning it during the last summer holidays. That knowledge was to come later. Now she listened to Ternikai’s courteous reply to her French, and then turned to Elisaveta. ‘It is time we were going down to join the others,’ she said.

Elisaveta nodden. ‘I know it is.’ She turned to the Belsornian. ‘Thank you, signor. As you see, I do not need you this afternoon. Please take a vacation from your task of watching me.’

She made a little gesture of dismissal, and he had no other course but to obey it. He swept off his hat, which he had been wearing in deference to the heat of the sun, and made the three a low bow. Then he turned smartly and marched off.

Joey gazed after him. ‘That man has been a soldier,’ she said. ‘Elisaveta, I don’t like him at all. I wonder why your people chose
him
? There must be nicer men in Belsornia, surely.’

‘I don’t think I like him myself,’ replied Elisaveta, looking the way he had gone, with a troubled expression on her face.

‘He is a
horrid
man!’ proclaimed the Robin suddenly. ‘He was making fun of us all the time, and he was pretending he wasn’t.’

‘That is it exactly,’ said Joey. ‘I couldn’t think what it was, ‘cos he was most awfully polite. But it was just what the Robin says. He – he was mocking himself at us.’

Elisaveta sighed. ‘I expect he thinks it is a fearful nuisance to have to look after me,’ she said. ‘It
is
a pity I’m not a boy.’

‘
I
think it’s perfectly idiotic of your people to have that stupid law,’ remarked Joey. ‘I’m sure you would make a far better king than that horrid Prince Cosimo!’

‘P’r'aps he’ll get killed, like those people in the Bible,’ suggested the Robin.

‘No such luck!’ replied Elisaveta gloomily.

Then they were joined by some of the others, and she had just time to warm the Robin to say nothing about their encounter to anyone else before they came up.

Mean while Maurús Ternikai rejoined his master, who was sitting on a boulder, impatiently awaiting him.