The Exiles (11 page)

He helped her in, then got in and sat down beside her. “Chantel, I would like for you to meet Miss Emmeline Collette Culver. Miss Culver, this is my daughter, Chantel.”

“I’m so happy to meet you, Chantel.”

Chantel had not known what to expect, but she was surprised by the beauty of the woman who smiled at her. Miss Culver was a small woman, but she was exquisitely formed, and her face was attractive indeed. She had dark hair and dark eyes and seemed genuinely glad to meet her.

“I was so glad I could go with you and your father. Do you like the theater?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Culver!”

The conversation went well, and she could tell that her father was pleased at her behavior toward the woman.

The rest of the evening was fun for Chantel. She loved the play and laughed and actually sang along with some of the choruses under her breath. Miss Culver, who was sitting across from her father, said, “She is named right, Cretien. She is a real songbird.”

“Oh, yes, she sings constantly. I believe she’s going to grow up and be an opera star.”

“That would be wonderful,” Miss Culver said with a smile.

After the performance Chantel talked excitedly. She had been rather shy at first, but Miss Culver drew her out. When the carriage stopped, she leaned forward and said, “We must do this many times, Chantel.”

“Yes, please. I enjoyed meeting you, Miss Culver.”

Chantel sat there until her father returned, and when he got into the carriage and settled back, he asked, “How did you like our guest?”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Have you known her a long time, Papa?”

Cretien hesitated briefly, then said, “Why, yes, for quite some time.” He changed the subject. “Well, you begin school next Monday. I will be expecting fine reports.”

“I will do the very best I can, Papa.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear.”

When they got inside their house, Cretien bent over and kissed her cheek. “Go to bed now. It’s late for you.”

“Good night, Papa. I had such a good time, but I always have a good time with you.”

Chantel went quickly to her room and at once withdrew her journal. She sat down and wrote of the evening at great length.

Miss Culver is very pretty, and I like her. Papa has known her a long time, and I hope she liked me.

For a time she stared at the entry and then was aware of a strange sensation. She had liked Miss Culver well enough, but deep inside she also resented her being there. She added:

She’s very nice, but I would rather have Papa all to myself.

Closing the journal, she put it into its hiding place and then went to bed. She did not dream of her mother that night, but of being an opera singer on a stage.

“So this is your daughter, Monsieur Fontaine.”

“Yes, Sister Martha, and I hope she will prove to be a fine student.”

Sister Martha was a tall, angular woman with a pair of sharp gray eyes. She wore the black habit of a nun and examined Chantel closely. “I’m sure you’ll do your best to please your father and me and your other instructors, won’t you, Chantel?”

“Oh, yes, Sister Martha.”

“Fine! You will be living in with us for a time. I suppose your father has told you.”

The words struck Chantel hard, and she twisted her head quickly to look at her father.

“Sister Martha and I decided it would be better for you to stay at the convent for a time. Later on you may come back home.”

“But, Papa—”

“I meant to tell you about this, but it slipped my mind.”

Chantel instantly knew that this was not true. Her father often put off things that were unpleasant. She had come to the convent hopeful and excited. Now a heaviness settled upon her, and she dropped her head.

Sister Martha saw the girl’s reaction and said quickly, “I’m sure you will enjoy it here. You will have plenty of companions, and though the studies are hard, we will find entertainment for you. And you will see your father very often. Is it not so, monsieur?”

“Why, certainly!” Cretien reached over and put his arm around Chantel. “I will come and get you, and we will go riding in the park. And I will take you out often to the theater.”

Chantel blinked back her tears and tried to smile, for she knew her father did not like to see her sad. “All right, Papa,” she said. “Please come often.”

“Now then. Say good-bye to your father, and I will introduce you to your instructors. Then you will meet some of your fellow students.”

Sister Agnes was a short woman with a round, reddish face and brown eyes. Chantel knew at once that she would be a hard woman to please.

“All right, girls. This is our new scholar, Chantel Renee Fontaine. I will let you introduce yourselves to her. Then we will begin our class.”

Sister Martha had brought Chantel to a classroom where Sister Agnes was teaching a group of fifteen girls. Chantel saw at a glance that some of them were very young, no more than nine or ten. Others seemed older, as much as fifteen, perhaps sixteen.

Sister Agnes examined Chantel with a steely glance, assigned her a seat, and said, “We will now proceed with the lesson. Chantel, you will have to study hard to catch up, for you are beginning late.”

“Yes, Sister Agnes.”

“I permit no laziness in here. You will work hard and do extra work until you are up with the rest of the class. You understand?”

“Yes, I will do my very best.”

“I expect it.” Sister Agnes turned to the board and wrote out an algebraic formula. She turned and began to call out names. “Angelique, you will solve this problem.”

A tall girl of about fifteen, rather pretty but with a sullen expression, went to the board. Her lower lip was stuck out in a pout, and for a time she struggled with the problem. Finally Sister Agnes said, “You are a sluggard, Angelique. Come here.”

Angelique looked frightened, but she came over to stand before the stubby nun. “Put out your hand.” Sister Agnes took out a footlong ruler, and when Angelique held out a trembling hand she struck it sharply twice. Angelique winced and went to her seat with a sharp reprimand.

Several other girls tried the formula, and none of them could solve it. Each received the same punishment. Finally Sister Agnes said, “All right, Laurel, you are our star student in algebra. Come and work the problem.”

A short girl with a round face and rather heavy figure came forward. She did better than the rest, but when she turned, Sister Agnes snorted, “I am disappointed in you, Laurel! Take your seat. You will do twenty extra problems for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sister Agnes.”

Sister Agnes glared at the group, and finally her eyes lit on Chantel. “Well, have you had any training in algebra?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Come and work this problem then.”

A snicker went around the room as Chantel got up, and she heard the girl named Angelique whisper, “What a beanpole! She’s skinny as a snake.”

Chantel’s face reddened, but she went to the board. Her instructor in mathematics had been one of the priest’s assistants. He was an amiable young man and had quickly discovered that whatever brain cells make a person adept at algebra, Chantel had. He had been delighted with her progress and had gone through advanced problems with her.

Chantel took the chalk and worked the problem rapidly. When she put down the answer, she said, “I think this is right, Sister Agnes.”

Sister Agnes’s eyes grew round. “Well,” she said with surprise, “it is correct! Very good! Very good indeed, Chantel!” Then she turned to the class and for five minutes shamed them for letting a new stu- dent show them all up. She said, “Some of you need help. I will expect you, Chantel, to help the slower students—which seems to be everyone.”

“I’ll be glad to do anything I can to help, Sister Agnes.”

Chantel took her seat, and the lessons went on. After the algebra class several of the younger students came up and introduced themselves. A slender, doe-eyed girl named Helen begged for help. “I just can’t get this into my head, Chantel.”

“It’s easy. I’ll help you,” Chantel assured her.

And then they were interrupted by a voice that said, “Well, Stick Legs, are you happy that you’ve embarrassed the rest of us?”

Chantel turned to find Angelique and Laurel standing there. The other girls had drawn back, and Sister Agnes had left the room. Laurel suddenly reached out and struck Chantel in the chest with her fist. “You think you’re so smart! Well, you’d better not be too smart, or you’ll be sorry!”

Angelique reached out and pulled Chantel’s hair. “Don’t be thinking too well of yourself. We’re the oldest students here, and you’ll do exactly as we say. You’ll polish my shoes tonight. You understand me?”

“I will if Sister Agnes tells me to.”

“You’ll do it if I tell you to!” Angelique snapped, her eyes gleaming.

“Why don’t you shut up, Angelique!” Chantel turned to see a girl with hair as black as a raven and eyes to match. Those black eyes were glinting now with anger, and she stepped in front of Angelique and pushed her backward. “You’re not the pope, so stop acting like you’re somebody important!”

Angelique’s face turned red and she shouted, “Get out of my face, Damita!” When Angelique tried to shove the dark-haired girl aside, she instantly received a resounding slap on the cheek. Grabbing her face, she screamed, “I’ll tell Sister Agnes on you!”

“Go on and tell, you little squealer.” Damita turned to Chantel and laughed, her eyes dancing. “You don’t have to do anything Elephant Nose tells you. If she tries to make you polish her shoes, just shove them down her throat. I’ll help you if you like.”

“You stop calling me names!” Angelique shouted.

Damita laughed and suddenly reached out and pulled Angelique’s nose. “I’ll just pull it a little longer!” Angelique let out a scream and struck out at Damita, who dodged the blow easily and struck Angelique in the face. Laurel at once threw herself at Damita, and the smaller girl was knocked backward. Chantel leaped at Laurel and, grabbing a double handful of hair, began to drag her away.

Four more girls joined the battle while the others stood watching, most of them shouting as the fight raged.

Suddenly the door opened and Sister Agnes dashed into the room, shouting, “Stop this! What’s going on?” Her face was flushed and she pulled Chantel away from Laurel, demanding, “We don’t do such things here.”

“She started it, Sister!” Angelique cried. “She just starting hitting us!”

“You are a liar, Angelique!” Damita’s black eyes glowed, and she turned to face the nun, saying, “Angelique and Laurel were the ones who started it.”

“I can’t believe that!”

Damita faced the nun fearlessly. “You never believe the truth about them. They cause all the trouble here, and you’re so afraid of their parents because they’re rich and give lots of money to the school, that you let them get by with it!”

Sister Agnes’ face turned red, then pale. She started to shout at Damita, but then changed her mind. “You are insolent, Damita Madariaga! Your parents will hear of this!”

Damita laughed suddenly. “They will hear of it, because I will tell them. And we both know that my father gives more to this convent than anyone else!”

“That’s enough!” Sister Agnes said, but Damita’s words had a strong effect, for she said with an effort, “Take your seats, all of you.” She stared at Chantel and said, “There was no trouble here until you came. You will be punished—and I will tell the Mother Superior of your doings!”

Chantel waited all day to be called before the Mother Superior, but to her relief, nothing came of it. She went to her classes, and that night before dinner, Damita came to her. She was smiling as she said, “I’ll bet you were scared you’d be called for punishment, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be,” Damita grinned. “That old Agnes knew she’d get in trouble if I told my father about her.”

“It was nice of you to stand up to Angelique and the others for me.”

“It was fun!” Damita turned and motioned to two girls who were standing off to her right. When they came close, she said, “This is Simone d’Or.”

Simone was a tall, strongly built girl with long blond hair and dark blue eyes. She had a squarish face and a determined chin, an easygoing girl, but with a trace of rebelliousness.

“It was nice of you to come to my defense in class.”

“I’ve been waiting to punch those girls!” Simone said. “Don’t you knuckle under to them!”

“None of us are going to do that,” Damita said. Turning to the fourth girl, she said, “This is Leonie Dousett.” She put her arm around the small girl and laughed. “You’re so meek I was surprised to see you tackle that girl. You’ve got a tiger in you, Leonie!”

Leonie smiled shyly. “I was surprised at myself. It’s the first fight I ever had.” Like Chantel, she had auburn hair. She was small, almost frail, with a timid air about her. She had the sweetest spirit of any of the four. “I never hit anyone in my whole life.”

Damita’s dark eyes were glowing, and she had a way of speaking that underscored her fiery spirit. “Listen, we’re going to cut down Angelique and those crows who hang out with her!”

“Good!” Simone nodded. “I’m sick of them all.”

“Everyone is, but everyone’s scared of them,” Damita said. “Now, I’ve been thinking ever since the fight. We four are going to put a stop to their bullying, and here’s the way we’ll do it—if one of them picks on any girl in this school, the four of us will make her sorry!”

“How will we do that?” Leonie asked.

“I can think of lots of ways,” Damita nodded. “We’ll gang up on her after lights out!”

“But she’ll tell on us!” Leonie protested.

“Good! Then we’ll catch her alone and get her twice as much and cut all her hair off!”

Simone giggled, “I like it! We’ll be sort of a secret club.”

Chantel said, “We’ll be the Four Musketeers—just like in the book! One for all, and all for one!”

The girls began to giggle, and suddenly Chantel was happy. She had felt so alone, but now she had three friends. She put her arm around Damita, saying, “I don’t feel so bad now, Damita.”

“All for one—and one for all, Chantel!” said Assumpta Damita de Salvedo y Madariaga. She did a dance as they moved toward the dining hall. “I hope Angelique tries something pretty soon! I can’t wait for the Four Musketeers to show their might!”