Selected Stories (81 page)

‘“I am prisoner on parole, Monsieur Gamm,” he said. “I have no home.”

‘Now that was unkind of René. He's often told me that he looked on England as his home. I suppose it's French politeness.

‘“Then we'll talk o' something that matters,” said Jerry. “Not to name no names, Mosheur Lanark, what might be your own opinion o' someone who ain't old Gaffer Macklin nor young Copper? Is that person better or worse?”

‘“Better – for time that is,” said René. He meant for the time being, but I never could teach him some phrases.

‘“I thought so too,” said Jerry. “But how about time to come?”

‘René shook his head, and then he blew his nose. You don't know how odd a man looks blowing his nose when you are sitting directly above him.

‘“I've thought that too,” said Jerry. He rumbled so deep I could scarcely catch. “It don‘t make much odds to me, because I'm old. But you‘re young, Mosheur – you're young,” and he put his hand on René's knee, and René covered it with his hand. I didn't know they were such friends.

‘“Thank you,
mon ami
,” said René. “I am much oblige. Let us return to our trumpet-making. But I forget” – he stood up – “it appears that you receive this afternoon!”

‘You can't see into Gamm's Lane from the oak, but the gate opened, and fat little Doctor Break stumped in, mopping his head, and half-a-dozen of our people followed him, very drunk.

‘You ought to have seen René bow; he does it beautifully.

‘“A word with you, Laennec,” said Dr Break. “Jerry has been practising some devilry or other on these poor wretches, and they've asked me to be arbiter.”

‘“Whatever that means, I reckon it's safer than asking you to be doctor,” said Jerry, and Tom Dunch, one of our carters, laughed.

‘“That ain't right feeling of you, Tom,” Jerry said, “seeing how clever Dr Break put away your thorn in the flesh last winter.” Tom's wife had died at Christmas, though Dr Break bled her twice a week. He danced with rage.

‘“This is all beside the mark,” he said. “These good people are willing to testify that you've been impudently prying into God's secrets
by means of some papistical contrivance which this person” – he pointed to poor René – “has furnished you with. Why, here are the things themselves!” René was holding a trumpet in his hand.

‘Then all the men talked at once. They said old Gaffer Macklin was dying from stitches in his side where Jerry had put the trumpet – they called it the devil's ear-piece; and they said it left round red witchmarks on people's skins, and dried up their lights, and made 'em spit blood, and threw 'em into sweats. Terrible things they said. You never heard such a noise. I took advantage of it to cough.

‘René and Jerry were standing with their backs to the pigsty. Jerry fumbled in his big flap pockets and fished up a pair of pistols. You ought to have seen the men give back when he cocked his. He passed one to René.

‘“Wait! Wait!” said René. “I will explain to the doctor if he permits.” He waved a trumpet at him, and the men at the gate shouted, “Don't touch it, Doctor! Don't lay a hand to the thing.”

‘“Come, come!” said René. “You are not so big fool as you pretend, Dr Break. No?”

‘Dr Break backed toward the gate, watching Jerry's pistol, and René followed him with his trumpet, like a nurse trying to amuse a child, and put the ridiculous thing to his ear to show how it was used, and talked of
la Gloire
, and
la Humanité
, and
la Science
, while Dr Break watched Jerry's pistol and swore. I nearly laughed aloud.

‘“Now listen! Now listen!” said René. “This will be moneys in your pockets, my dear
confrère
.
⁵
You will become rich.”

‘Then Dr Break said something about adventurers who could not earn an honest living in their own country creeping into decent houses and taking advantage of gentlemen's confidence to enrich themselves by base intrigues.

‘René dropped his absurd trumpet and made one of his best bows. I knew he was angry from the way he rolled his “r's”.

‘“Ver-r-ry good,” said he. “For that I shall have much pleasure to kill you now and here. Monsieur Gamm” – another bow to Jerry – “you will please lend him your pistol, or he shall have mine. I give you my word I know not which is best; and if he will choose a second from his friends over there” – another bow to our drunken yokels at the gate – “we will commence.”

‘“That's fair enough,” said Jerry. “Tom Dunch, you owe it to the doctor to be his second. Place your man.”

‘“No,” said Tom. “No mixin' in gentry's quarrels for me.” And he shook his head and went out, and the others followed him.

‘“Hold on,” said Jerry. “You've forgot what you set out to do up at the alehouse just now. You was goin' to search me for witchmarks; you was goin' to duck me in the pond; you was goin' to drag all my bits o' sticks out o' my little cottage here. What's the matter with you? Wouldn't you like to be with your old woman tonight, Tom?”

‘But they didn't even look back, much less come. They ran to the village alehouse like hares.

‘“No matter for these canaille,”
⁶
said René, buttoning up his coat so as not to show any linen. All gentlemen do that before a duel, Dad says – and he's been out five times. “You shall be his second, Monsieur Gamm. Give him the pistol.”

‘Dr Break took it as if it was red-hot, but he said that if René resigned his pretensions in certain quarters he would pass over the matter. René bowed deeper than ever.

‘“As for that,” he said, “if you were not the ignorant which you are, you would have known long ago that the subject of your remarks is not for any living man.”

‘I don't know what the subject of his remarks might have been, but he spoke in a simply dreadful voice, my dear, and Dr Break turned quite white, and said René was a liar; and then René caught him by the throat, and choked him black.

‘Well, my dear, as if this wasn't deliciously exciting enough, just exactly at that minute I heard a strange voice on the other side of the hedge say, “What's this? What's this, Bucksteed?” and there was my father and Sir Arthur Wesley on horseback in the lane; and there was René kneeling on Dr Break, and there was I up in the oak, listening with all my ears.

‘I must have leaned forward too much, and the voice gave me such a start that I slipped. I had only time to make one jump on to the pigsty roof – another, before the tiles broke, on to the pigsty wall – and then I bounced down into the garden, just behind Jerry, with my hair full of bark. Imagine the situation!'

‘Oh, I cant!' Una laughed till she nearly fell off the stool.

‘Dad said, “Phil – a – del – phia!” and Sir Arthur Wesley said, “Good Ged!” and Jerry put his foot on the pistol René had dropped. But René was splendid. He never even looked at me. He began to untwist Dr Break's neckcloth as fast as he'd twisted it, and asked him if he felt better.

‘“What's happened? What's happened?” said Dad.

‘“A fit!” said René. “I fear my
confrère
has had a fit. Do not be alarmed. He recovers himself. Shall I bleed you a little, my dear Doctor?”
Dr Break was very good too. He said, “I am vastly obliged, Monsieur Laennec, but I am restored now.” And as he went out of the gate he told Dad it was a syncope
⁷
– I think. Then Sir Arthur said, “Quite right, Bucksteed. Not another word! They are both gentlemen.” And he took off his cocked hat to Dr Break and René.

‘But poor Dad wouldn't let well alone. He kept saying, “Philadelphia, what does all this mean?”

‘“Well, sir,” I said, “I've only just come down. As far as I could see, it looked as though Dr Break has had a sudden seizure.” That was quite true – if you'd seen René seize him. Sir Arthur laughed. “Not much change there, Bucksteed,” he said. “She's a lady – a thorough lady.”

‘“Heaven knows she doesn't look like one,” said poor Dad. “Go home, Philadelphia.”

‘So I went home, my dear – don't laugh so! – right under Sir Arthur's nose – a most enormous nose – feeling as though I were twelve years old, going to be whipped. Oh, I
beg
your pardon, child!'

‘It's all right,' said Una. ‘I'm getting on for thirteen. I've never been whipped, but I know how you felt. All the same, it must have been funny!'

‘Funny! If you'd heard Sir Arthur jerking out, “Good Ged, Buck-steed!” every minute as they rode behind me; and poor Dad saying, “'Pon my honour, Arthur, I can't account for it!” Oh, how my cheeks tingled when I reached my room! But Cissie had laid out my very best evening dress, the white satin one, vandyked
⁸
at the bottom with spots of morone
⁹
foil, and the pearl knots, you know, catching up the drapery from the left shoulder. I had poor mother's lace tucker and her coronet comb.'

‘Oh, you lucky!' Una murmured. ‘
And
gloves?'

‘French kid, my dear' – Philadelphia patted her shoulder – ‘and morone satin shoes and a morone and gold crape fan. That restored my calm. Nice things always do. I wore my hair banded on my forehead with a little curl over the left ear. And when I descended the stairs,
en grande tenue
,
¹⁰
old Amoore curtsied to me without my having to stop and look at her, which alas! is too often the case. Sir Arthur highly approved of the dinner, my dear: the mackerel
did
come in time. We had all the Marklake silver out, and he toasted my health, and he asked me where my little bird's-nesting sister was. I
know
he did it to quiz me, so I looked him straight in the face, my dear, and I said, “I always send her to the nursery, Sir Arthur, when I receive guests at Marklake Hall.”'

‘Oh, how chee– clever of you. What did he say?' Una cried.

‘He said, “Not much change there, Bucksteed. Ged, I deserved it,”
and he toasted me again. They talked about the French and what a shame it was that Sir Arthur only commanded a brigade at Hastings, and he told Dad of a battle in India at a place called Assaye.
¹¹
Dad said it was a terrible fight, but Sir Arthur described it as though it had been a whist-party – I suppose because a lady was present.'

‘Of course you were the lady; I wish I'd seen you,' said Una.

‘I wish you had, child. I had
such
a triumph after dinner. René and Dr Break came in. They had quite made up their quarrel, and they told me they had the highest esteem for each other, and I laughed and said, “I heard every word of it up in the tree.” You never saw two men so frightened in your life, and when I said, “What
was
‘the subject of your remarks', René?” neither of them knew where to look. Oh, I quizzed them unmercifully. They'd seen me jump off the pigsty roof, remember.'

‘But what
was
the subject of their remarks?' said Una.

‘Oh, Dr Break said it was a professional matter, so the laugh was turned on me. I was horribly afraid it might have been something unladylike and indelicate. But
that
wasn't my triumph. Dad asked me to play on the harp. Between just you and me, child, I had been practising a new song from London – I don‘t always live in trees – for weeks; and I gave it them for a surprise.'

‘What was it?' said Una. ‘Sing it.'

‘“I have given my heart to a flower.” Not very difficult fingering, but r-r-ravishing sentiment.'

Philadelphia coughed and cleared her throat.

‘I've a deep voice for my age and size,' she explained. ‘Contralto, you know, but it ought to be stronger,' and she began, her face all dark against the last of the soft pink sunset:

‘I have given my heart to a flower,
Though I know it is fading away,
Though I know it will live but an hour
And leave me to mourn its decay!

‘Isn't that touchingly sweet? Then the last verse – I wish I had my harp, dear – goes as low as my register will reach.' She drew in her chin, and took a deep breath:

‘Ye desolate whirlwinds that rave,
I charge you be good to my dear!
She is all – she is all that I have,
And the time of our parting is near!'

‘Beautiful!' said Una. ‘And did they like it?'

‘Like it? They were overwhelmed
– accablés
,
¹²
as René says. My dear, if I hadn't seen it, I shouldn't have believed that I could have drawn tears, genuine tears, to the eyes of four grown men. But I did! René simply couldn't endure it! He's all French sensibility. He hid his face and said,
“Assez Mademoiselle! C‘est plus fort que moi! Assez!”
¹³
And Sir Arthur blew his nose and said, “Good Ged! This is worse than Assaye!” While Dad sat with the tears simply running down his cheeks.'

‘And what did Dr Break do?'

‘He got up and pretended to look out of the window, but I saw his little fat shoulders jerk as if he had the hiccoughs. That
was
a triumph. I never suspected him of sensibility.'

‘Oh, I wish I'd seen! I wish I'd been you,' said Una, clasping her hands. Puck rustled and rose from the fern, just as a big blundering cockchafer flew smack against Una's cheek.

When she had finished rubbing the place, Mrs Vincey called to her that
Pansy
had been fractious, or she would have come long before to help her strain and pour off.

‘It didn't matter,' said Una; ‘I just waited. Is that old
Pansy
barging about the lower pasture now?'

‘No,' said Mrs Vincey, listening. ‘It sounds more like a horse being galloped middlin' quick through the woods; but there's no road there. I reckon it's one of Gleason's colts loose. Shall I see you up to the house, Miss Una?'