Paula the Waldensian Part 20

She obeyed, a bit confused to see all eyes fixed upon her. Inside she found a little black book with a much-used cover.

She raised her eyes in grat.i.tude to father and tried to thank him, but could not find a word to say. Eagerly her fingers turned the precious pages. Suddenly out fell a five-franc-piece.

"There, there," said my father, as she tried to express her thanks, "I am more than satisfied, if I have made you happy."

"Happy!" said Paula, "I am more than happy!" She took her beloved Book, and as she turned its pages she found still other treasures--a few faded flowers which to my mind appeared to have no value whatsoever, and yet I could see that they seemed to call up once more the precious memories of her past life in that far-off Waldensian Valley.

"Dear uncle," said Paula, "Did you read the Book?"

"Yes, I read part of it, but if I have returned it to you today, it is not because I have finished reading it, nor is it because Catalina has begged me to return it to you. It is because you have obliged me to read another book."

"I, uncle? What book can that be?"

"Yes, it may seem strange to you, but you see, you have lived among us in such a way that I am to confess that I wish that my three daughters would imitate your manner of living. You have made me comprehend the love that your Bible speaks of, and of which Christ gave us an example, and which He apparently has put into your life, and so I give back your Bible to you with all my heart."

One can imagine our feelings as we listened to this strange discourse from the lips of him who only a short time before had been so opposed to such things!

"And then, Paula, I have something more to say," said my father. "Do you remember the day when I hit you on the head with your Bible as I took it away from you? I wish to say that I am sorry beyond expression for what I did that day;--and now have you pardoned me, little daughter?"

For reply Paula took my father's hands in hers, then in a flood of generosity and forgetfulness of self she gave her Bible back to him, simply saying, "I give it back to you, dearest uncle!"

"You give it back to me!" said my father, stupefied, "You give me back the Bible you loved so much!" "Yes," answered Paula, "because Teresa has promised to give me another."

"But do you mean to tell me that you would care for a new Bible as much as this one?"

"Oh, no," she said, "Father gave me that one, and it's full of his markings, and it was in that Bible that I learned to love the Lord Jesus."

"And then--?"

"Well, it's because it is the most precious thing that I have in all the world that I give it to you. Because you see I love you so, and I would wish ... Oh, how I do wish that you could learn to know Him too."

"My poor dear child," said my father, "I cannot accept your sacrifice, but I shall always remember your thought of me; and in the meantime, if you like, we can go and buy another Bible like yours that I, too, may read it.

How will that do?" At this Paula clapped her hands in delight, as she said, "Indeed, that will be wonderful!"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE SCHOOL-TEACHER AND HER BROTHER

"Lisita," said Paula to me one day on returning from school, "Mlle. Virtud was not in cla.s.s this morning."

"That's all the same to me," I said with indifference, "except that if I had known that, I would have gone to school anyway in spite of my chilblains."

"Do they still hurt you so badly," Paula asked.

"Yes, quite a bit; but not so badly as yesterday, and it bores me terribly to stay at home alone. You see, Teresa makes me clean the spinach, and Catalina gives me a basketful of stockings to darn, and I think I'd rather go to school, especially if there is anything the matter with the teacher, even though my feet hurt worse than a toothache. Do you ever have chilblains?"

"No, I don't think I ever had them."

"Well," I said, "I always seem to be the one that gets something--something that's bad and horrible."

"I think that Mlle. Virtud is sick," continued Paula.

"You're always thinking of that woman. I tell you, it doesn't make any difference to me what happens to her," I said impatiently.

"Oh, Lisita, aren't you ashamed to say such a thing?"

"No," I said, "How do you expect me to like her? No matter what I do in the cla.s.s she punishes me for the slightest thing; and not only do I suffer in cla.s.s, but I get twenty-five lines to copy after school, so that I have no time to play with the rest of them. How I do detest that woman!"

"Of whom were you speaking?" asked Teresa, who appeared at that moment.

"Of the school-teacher, Mlle. Virtud."

"I have a good mind to box your ears," cried Teresa indignantly. "You detest such a fine young lady who works in your behalf."

"Oh, Teresa, don't be angry," I said. "You have no idea how she makes me suffer. When you were little you never went to school, so you do not understand. Now, listen--instead of keeping the bad children after school, she sends us all home with twenty to fifty lines to copy, while she goes calmly back to her house. The other teachers keep the bad ones there for ten minutes or so, and that's all there is to it, which is a whole lot more agreeable."

"Mlle. Virtud is absolutely right, for she makes the punishment fit the crime."

"No, it isn't that," I answered in a rage; "It's because she doesn't want to stay in school like the other teachers, the selfish thing! Here I am right now with lines which were given last Monday, and I'm not going to do them. She can say what she pleases!"

Paula, whose tender heart would have loved to have been on my side and also on that of Mlle. Virtud at the same time, suggested that perhaps she had someone who was ill in the house.

"She," I cried, "Mile. Virtud! Who do you think would ever have such a disagreeable thing in the house with them! Besides, she has told us that her family live far away in the country."

"I don't know," said Paula; "but do you remember the day when we saw her carrying flowers back home with her. I dare say it was for somebody."

"Perhaps," I answered indifferently.

That afternoon Teresa permitted me to go to school, and there I found the teacher of the Third Year in charge of our cla.s.s. She was a beautiful woman with lovely golden hair and blue eyes, and pink-and-white cheeks that reminded one of a wax doll. "Ah," said I to myself, "how I wish I was in the Third Year to have such a beautiful teacher always in front of me!" She read to us and told us stories almost all the afternoon, and never punished anybody, and on coming out of school her two little brothers ran to embrace her affectionately. "Hurry up, dear sister," said one of them, "Mama is waiting for us on the porch."

"My! How beautiful she is," I murmured to myself. "How I do love her! Mlle.

Virtud would never be so gentle with her little brothers, if she ever had any." Then suddenly I stopped, for it seemed to me that I heard Paula saying to me sadly, "Are you not ashamed of yourself, Lisita?" And I looked up to see Paula exchanging a few words with a poorly-dressed child just before she joined me. "Lisita, it is true," Paula said, "Mademoiselle Virtud is quite ill; she tried to get up this morning and wasn't able to raise her head. Victoria, the little girl who was speaking to me just now, knows her very well; in fact, she lives in the same courtyard."

"Who is taking care of her?" I said.

"No one, as far as I can find out. Do you think Teresa would let us go to see her?"

"No, I am sure she wouldn't, and for one thing, I'd never go. I haven't done my fifty lines."

"Oh, but see; I'll help you do your fifty lines right now."

"Oh, but that wouldn't be square."

Paula laughed, "You generally haven't such a delicate conscience. You know very well that half of the time Rosa does your lines for you."