03 The Princess of the Chalet School (17 page)

‘I hope the Robin’s all right,’ said Jo suddenly. ‘She’s scared when it thunders.’

‘I expect some one has gone to see that the little ones are all safe,’ replied Bianca. ‘Do you think the others are awake?’

‘Most likely.’ Joey suddenly gave a wriggle. ‘I say, sorry, both of you!’

‘So am I,’ said Elisaveta.

‘I also,’ added Bianca. There was no need for anyone to specify
why
she was sorry; they all knew.

A much louder growl startled them at this moment. The storm was coming up from the north-east, so the lightning did not trouble them yet. The thunder drowned the sound of the door opening, and they all jumped when the curtains were drawn back and Miss Bettany stood before them.

The girls looked at her doubtfully. They were not sure as to how she would take this deliberate breaking of rules. She only smiled at them, however. ‘So you are all together?’ she said. ‘Well, it
is
better when are having a really unpleasant storm progressing. Company makes it seem not quite so bad. I just came in to see it you had -‘

The rest of her speech was drowned in a crash bigger than any they had heard yet. It had barely died away into the stillness when there came a vivid flash of lightning and another crash. Even Miss Bettany shrank back before the glare. Elisaveta buried her head in the bed-clothes, and Bianca opened her mouth to scream, but no one heard if she did it or not. Peal after peal of thunder broke over them, and the lightning became almost incessant. In between whiles they could hear cries from the other girls, some of whom had been aroused from sleep. The Head made signs to them, for not even by shouting could she make herself heard, and then left them for a while.

Bianca had hidden her eyes in her arms and was lying doubled up on the bed, while Joey sat with her arms round the Princess and stared out at the storm with wide black eyes in a white face.

From Le Petit Chalet the lights were twinkling, until some one came and drew the jalousies close. That woke Joey from her dread. She pushed Elisaveta gently to one side and slipped out of bed.

‘Where are you going, Jo?’ screamed Elisaveta.

‘To switch on the light!’ yelled Joey in response. She raced across the room and tried to put it on.

Unfortunately, the electricity in the atmosphere had affected the lighting, and nothing came of her efforts.

Another brilliant flash lit up the room for a second, and Joey made her way back to bed. After it was over there was a pitchy darkness and a sudden silence.

Elisaveta lifted her head. ‘Oh, is it over?’ she gasped.

Joey shook her head, quite forgetting that no one could see her in the gloom. She was fairly sure that it was anything but over. The silence continued some seconds and was far more horrifying than the noise had been.

The door opened once more, showing the Head, her face as white as Joey’s. She came over to the bed. Just as she reached them there was a frightful red glare, a dull shrieking noise sounded, and then a ball of crimson light flashed past the window and there was a most awful crash, which quite outdid anything which had previously happened.

Instinctively Miss Bettany caught the frightened group of children in her arms, and they all clung to her with a grip which bruised her badly. At the same moment there arose to the open window strong fumes of sulphur, and the grass in the middle of the playing-field took fire and flared up.

Joey, raising her head cautiously, saw it, and shrieked again. Madge loosened herself from the clutch of the three, and crying, ‘Get up and dress at once!’ sped from the room. Full well she knew the danger to the wooden chalets if the fire were allowed to get any hold.

It seemed to the girls as if everyone in the place had suddenly appeared on the field. Practically every house in the valley was of wood, and the whole place was tinder-dry, since there had been no rain for weeks.

The men of Briesau knew what a ghastly conflagration would occur unless the fire were put out instantly.

Joey, scrambling into a weird selection of garments, and, urging the others to do the same, caught up the bedroom jug of water, and dashed out of the dormitory, half-clad, and without either shoes or stockings.

Elisaveta, muttering ‘Keep your head, whatever happens,’ went after, dragging Bianca, who was too frightened to help herself, and they got downstairs, to find most of the others already there. Juliet was in charge, and she rose to the occasion magnificently.

Marshalling the motley crew into something like order, she marched them all out down the path and on to the lake shores. Practically everyone who was not fighting the flames was there, and such a pandemonium was never before heard in the Briesau peninsula. Rufus, who had got loose from his shed, rushed up to Joey, his tail between his legs, and whimpering violently. Snow, or even water, he could have understood; but not this red horror. Joey laid her hand mechanically on his neck. ‘What shall I do with the water, Juliet?’ she asked dully.

‘Nothing,’ replied Juliet. ‘Oh! If only the rain would come!’

Several people round her were echoing her prayer. If only it would rain all danger from the fire would be over. But the rain did not come, and overhead the lightning cut its way across the heavy skies, while the thunder rolled incessantly. Joey could stand there doing nothing no longer. She slipped away to the back of the fence and skirted round till she had reached the other side of the Chalet. It was a wild scene on which she came.

In the field people were digging a trench all round the fire, while some of the men were trying to beat it out with spades, boughs dragged fro the trees, and old sacks, which others were constantly wetting by flinging water from buckets, jugs, bowls, even mugs, over them. Near the house Joey could see her sister helping to dig another trench, while many of the staff were beside her. At the far side of the fence she could see Mademoiselle, Miss Durrant, and Grizel Cochrane bringing the little ones to safety. That brought the memory of the Robin to her, and she set off to meet them and see if she was safe. She had barely taken three steps when there was a cry from Miss Maynard, ‘The rain! The rain!’

It was taken up on all sides, and then the rain came! It had been a phenomenal storm in many ways, but the rain outdid everything else. IT came with huge hailstones, which cut and stung, and covered the ground with a white sheet of five inches depth in a many minutes. The fire had no chance at all under that. Mademoiselle and her little procession turned tail and fled back to Le Petit Chalet. The people made for the hotels; and the girls tore back to the house. Everyone arrived bruised, and, in some cases, cut with that awful shower, which lasted for two hours and effectually put an end to all fear from fire. Every window in the valley was smashed; cattle out in the storm were bruised and battered; and the inhabitants rose the next morning to find the sun shining down on a land covered with slush, and drenched to such an extent that people were went out at all that day literally waded in
mud
! Never had there been such a storm within the memory of man.

Before midday all the glass in Innsbruck and the surrounding towns had been bought up, and an army of glaziers had invaded the Tiern Valley.

A high wind had followed the storm, and the lake was a mass of angry water, which tossed the steamers wildly to and fro, and caused passengers to have unpleasant feelings. All the trees had been stripped of their leaves, the flowers had been battered to pieces, and in the woods the ground was strewn with down-fallen pines.

The Chalet girls mourned over the spoiling of their field. In the centre was huge hole, fully ten feet deep; all round, the ground was scored and torn up by the trenches the people had begun to dig. As for the cricket-pitch, Grizel Cochrane, surveying it late in the evening, declared that she didn’t think it would ever be right again.

Herr Braun, who had come round to see what the damage was, consoled her. ‘It will need only fresh rolling,’ he said. ‘Let us be thankful,
mein Fraülein
, that it is no worse! The aerolite might have stuck the house. See, such a little way away it fell.
Der Liebe Gott
had been good to us.’

Signor Ternikai Meets the Head

After the storm, lessons were allowed to languish for the rest of the week. The girls were all exhausted, mentally and physically, by what had occurred, so the Head was merciful and spared them much work. On the morning after it was all over no one got up much before ten o’clock, and by the time
Frühstück
and prayers were done it was close to half-past eleven. They had two short lessons, finishing at the usual time, and in the afternoon they all packed into the train and went down to Spärtz, where they wandered about the streets, then went into the public gardens, where the one fountain – the Tyrol has fountains in all its towns and cities – occupied the attention of the people who had brought their sketch-books and cameras, which contains trophies of Andreas Hofer, Joseph Speckbacher, and Joseph Rainer. A Stainer violin, said to be the first which came from the hand of the master, is also there, and Frieda eyed it longingly. ‘I should like that for Bernhilda,’ she remarked to Joey.

‘Why ever? She’s got a jolly good one for her own!’ said Jo incredulously.

‘Yes, that is true; but she longs for a Stainer.’

Jo laughed. ‘I don’t know much about his violins,’ she said, ‘but I’ve always liked his life. I think it was so keen of him to go and listen to the sounds at the tree slides so that he could get the best wood for his fiddles; and I like keen people.’

They had
Kaffee
with Herr Anserl, whom they had met in the chief street, and who insisted that they should go. His housekeeper nearly had a fit when she saw him marching in with nearly fifty girls in his wake; but she was a resourceful person, and had experience of him, so she sent Martha, the little maid, flying out to the
Konditorei
to buy up all the cakes she could, and produced sweet bread and glorious coffee while the girls admired the old master’s treasures, and chattered with him as eagerly as if he were not one of the most dreaded teachers in the school. He enjoyed it all, and ate a huge meal himself, beaming on his guests like an amiable old giant, and telling the most delightful tales about trolls and other fairy people to the juniors, who swarmed all over him and considered him the dearest old man they had ever met. They returned to the valley by the last train, and walked home from Seespitz, for the lake-waters were still so rough that Miss Bettany thought it wiser not to take the steamer.

The next day lessons were finished at eleven, and they all packed up and went off for the rest of the day to the Scholastika end of the lake. Here they divided into three parties, and while the Head kept the babies with her at the lake-side the seniors set off to walk to Tiernkirche, which is about eight miles farther down the valley, and the middles followed the course of the Tiern Fluss. Usually this was a quiet little stream, flowing merrily along between grassy meadows; but the storm had changed it into a boiling torrent, which had overflowed its banks and went roaring down to join the Isar.

It was late when they got back, but the next day was Saturday, and they were able to rest. Games were, of course, at an end, but as it was only a fortnight to the end of term that did not matter so much. The girls picnicked all day, for they had
Frühstück
up in the pine-woods, and then climbed up to the Bârenbad Alpe, where they had sandwiches, coffee, and wild strawberries with the whipped cream which the people at the little
Gasthaus
supply at the cost of about three-pence a saucer.

After
Mittagessen
they roamed about on the
alpe
, and were agreeably surprised when Marie and Eigen appeared with baskets containing buttered rolls,
Kuchen
, sent by Frau Pfeifen, and milk.

Sunday was spent as usual, and on Monday they started the tern-end exams.

‘I feel awfully fresh,’ remarked Joey, as she took her seat in the big school-room. ‘It wasn’t a bad week, after all. I think it’s a good idea to have a holiday like that just before we are examinated. You can think so much more clearly after it’

‘Is that a hint?’ laughed Miss Durrant, who had come into the room in time to overhear this. ‘Well, we shall see by your papers whether it really is so.’ Then she called for silence, and began giving out the question papers.

Miss Bettany, having nothing to do at first, strolled out to the lake, accompanied by Mademoiselle. School-life for her was nearly over, and she had already got things as nearly into order as she could. There was little said between the two mistresses at first as they walked slowly along in the direction of Seespitz. At length Mademoiselle spoke. ‘We shall miss you next term,
chérie
. It will not be the same at all when you are up on the Sonnalpe and we are here in the valley.’

Miss Bettany, who had been in a brown study, woke up at this. ‘What nonsense, Elise! I shall come down at
least
twice a week, and I shall always be on hand when you want me. It won’t make all that difference, I can assure you!’

Mademoiselle smiled. ‘At first, I do not doubt it will be so. But later,
mignonne
, when the snows come and we have the winter storms, then you will not find it so easy, and we shall have to manage by ourselves.’

Madge looked sober. ‘I hate giving up the school,’ she said. ‘I sometimes wish Jem had built his sanatorium here. But the air is not nearly so good as it is up there, and he had to think of that. It’s done Mr.

Denny a world of good, you know, and as soon as he comes down here he is ill again.’

A quick footstep behind them broke across her speech, and then a tall man, dressed in Tyrolese costume, which the little green
Jäger
coat and breeches, and little hat with cock’s feathers at the back, was speaking to them. ‘Pardon, gracious ladies, but have I not the honour to address Fraülein Bettany?’

‘Yes,’ replied Madge, looking startled.

He bowed, sweeping off his hat with the gesture he had employed to the little girls when he had met them on the mountainside, only now he was careful not to permit any mockery to show in his manner. ‘I am Maurús Ternikai, officer in the army of his gracious Majesty King Ridolpho of Belsornia.’