Fairy Fingers Part 19

"That is _impossible_. One of them at least must have some knowledge."

Maurice rang the bell. It was Bettina, who replied. Gustave, she said, was in the stable, and Baptiste in the garden. The answers of the _femme de chambre_ to the young viscount were clear and unhesitating: no one could doubt, for a moment, that she was wholly ignorant of Madeleine's movement; and her tone and manner evinced, as forcibly as any language could have done, how deeply she mourned over her absence. Elise was next summoned, and her replies were but a repet.i.tion of Bettina's.

"I will not send for Gustave and Baptiste," he observed, dismissing the two female domestics,--"I will walk out and see them."

"And I will go with you," said Bertha.

The countess was too well pleased to see the cousins together to object.

Gustave was grooming a horse as they pa.s.sed by the stable. He paused in his work to welcome the viscount, and added, in the same breath,--

"Monsieur will find it very dull at the chateau, now. It does not seem like the same place since Mademoiselle Madeleine left!"

"Have you no idea how she went, Gustave? Some of you surely must know!"

"I know nothing, monsieur. When they told me that Mademoiselle Madeleine was gone, it was as though a thunder-bolt had struck me. I have never felt good for anything since!"

There was too much sincerity, too much feeling in his tone for Maurice to doubt him, or deem further questioning necessary. He walked sadly away, accompanied by Bertha.

Baptiste was busied near the little _chalet_; he seemed to hover about it constantly of late. He was aware of the return of his young master,--he had bowed to him as he was descending from the carriage.

When Bertha and her cousin approached the venerable domestic, his trepidation was too obvious to escape their notice. He was pruning the luxuriant growth of some of the vines Madeleine had planted, and the hand which held his knife shook and committed unintentional havoc among the blossoming branches.

"Baptiste, come in; I have something to talk to you about," said Maurice, entering the _chalet_ with Bertha.

How painfully that pleasant little retreat reminded him of Madeleine!

For a moment he was overpowered, and dropped into a chair, covering his eyes with his hands; perhaps because he could not bear the sight of objects which called up such agonizing recollections; perhaps because his eyes were dim with too womanish a moisture.

"Dear Maurice," said Bertha, bending over him compa.s.sionately, "if Madeleine only knew how wretched she has made us both, surely she would not forsake us so cruelly."

Maurice, by a gesture, prayed her to sit down. Baptiste stood in the doorway; his att.i.tude betokened a reluctance to enter, and a desire to be quickly dismissed. After a long interval, the viscount, slowly raising his head, was again struck by the perturbed mien of the guileless old man, whose native simplicity, warmth, and ingenuousness would have melted any mask he attempted to a.s.sume. Maurice had almost abandoned all expectation that he would receive any information from the domestics; but he now experienced a sudden renewal of hope.

"Baptiste," he said, scrutinizing the ancient gardener closely, "do you not know where Mademoiselle Madeleine is?"

"No, monsieur."

The reply was uttered in a tone of genuine sadness.

"You cannot even guess?"

"No, monsieur."

"Do you know how she left here?"

"No, monsieur."

"Baptiste, you are not speaking falsely?--you are not trifling with me?

If you _are_, you can hardly know how cruelly you are adding to my sorrow."

"I have spoken the exact truth, monsieur."

"I am sure he has, Maurice," interrupted Bertha. "I never knew Baptiste to utter even a _white lie_: he has as great a horror of falsehood as Madeleine herself."

Baptiste looked at her gratefully.

"Then you know _nothing at all_," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Maurice, in a tone of discouragement. "You did not help Mademoiselle Madeleine in any way? She must have had some a.s.sistance; but from _you_ she had none? You did not even know that she intended to leave us?"

Baptiste hesitated; his mouth twitched,--his eyes were fixed upon the ground.

"Why do you not answer, Baptiste?" asked Bertha. "You _did not_ know that Mademoiselle Madeleine was going,--did you?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

The answer was spoken almost in a whisper.

"_You knew it?_ And why, _why_ have you not told us this before?" she almost shrieked out.

"No one asked me that question, mademoiselle; and Mademoiselle Madeleine requested me not to give any information concerning her which I could possibly, and without uttering a falsehood, avoid."

Maurice sprang up and laid his hand upon the old man's shoulder.

"Speak _now_ then! You cannot avoid telling us all you know! You were aware that she was going; you a.s.sisted her flight. _How_ did you aid her? _What_ did you do? _What_ do you know?"

"Very little, monsieur. I did very little and know very little. The evening before Mademoiselle Madeleine left, she came to me in the garden; she asked me if I would do her a favor. I would have done her a thousand. Did I not owe her enough? Was it not she who watched beside my bed when I had that terrible rheumatic fever two years ago? Did she not pour out my medicine with her own white hands? Did she not talk to me when I was racked with pain, until I thought the room was full of heavenly music, and I forgot I was suffering? Did she not keep me from cursing G.o.d when the pangs were so sharp that I felt I was tortured beyond my strength? Did she not tell me why all anguish of soul or body should be borne patiently? Was there, oh, was there _anything_ I would not have done for Mademoiselle Madeleine? When she left the chateau, was her loss greater to any one than it was to me? And she would not have gone if she could have staid any longer. I was sure of _that_. When she said she must go, I knew she _must_, and I never even dared to pray her to remain."

It was seldom that Baptiste spoke so much, for he was taciturn by nature; but the emotion, forcibly suppressed for so many days, once breaking bondage, burst forth into a torrent of words.

"You did well, Baptiste,--good, faithful old man! Mademoiselle Madeleine needed a friend; and I thank Heaven she had one like you. Do not think we blame you; only tell us all you know. She came to you the evening before she left: what favor did she ask?"

"Mademoiselle Madeleine only asked, monsieur, that I would come to her room when the house was all quiet, that night, and carry down her trunk and place it in the _chalet_. I could not help saying, 'Oh, Mademoiselle Madeleine, are you going to leave us?' She answered, 'I _cannot_ stay, Baptiste. I am _compelled_ to go. You are the only person here who is aware of my intention. When I am gone do not give any information concerning me that you can possibly, and without uttering a falsehood, avoid. It will be better that no one should know I had your aid.' Those were her exact words, monsieur."

"Go on,--go on!" urged Maurice, as the narrator paused.

"When the house was all quiet, I put off my shoes and stole softly to Mademoiselle Madeleine's room. She opened the door, and, without speaking, pointed to the little trunk. Old and weak as I am, I had no trouble in carrying it. It was light enough. It could not have held much."

"Did she not bid you adieu, then?" asked Bertha.

"Just as I was stooping to lift the trunk, Mademoiselle Madeleine stretched out her hand and took mine. I felt her warm, soft touch the whole day after. She did not say adieu, but she looked it. She looked as though she were blessing me and thanking me. I never saw a face that said so much,--so much that went to my very soul and comforted me! When she let go my hand, I took up the trunk and carried it out. She closed the door behind me without a sound, and I brought the trunk here that night and left it. That is all I know, monsieur."

"But how was the trunk conveyed hence?"

"I do not know, monsieur."

"Did you see Mademoiselle Madeleine the next morning?" inquired Bertha.

"No, mademoiselle. I could not help going to the _chalet_ the first thing when I came out to work. I pushed the door open and looked in; the trunk was not there, and I knew that Mademoiselle Madeleine was gone too!"

"But did not Mademoiselle Madeleine drop some hint, even the faintest, of her plans?" asked Maurice, earnestly.