Shawl-Straps Part 9

'Translate as you go along--I do so hate that gabble,' begged Mat, who would _not_ improve her mind.

So Lavinia gave her a free translation which convulsed Amanda behind her paper. Coming to this pa.s.sage, 'Plusieurs faits graves sont arrives,'

the reader rendered it, 'Several made graves have arrived,' adding, 'Dear me, what singular customs the French have, to be sure!' A little farther on she read, 'Un portrait de feu Monsieur mon pere,' adding, 'A fire portrait means a poker sketch, I suppose.'

Here a smothered giggle from Amanda caused the old lady to say 'Bless you!' thinking the dear girl had sneezed.

'I must have some blue cotton to mend my dress with. Remind me to get some at Moulins. By the way, how do you ask for it in French?' said Mat, surveying a rent in her skirts.

'Oh, just go in and say, "Avez-vous le fils bleu?"' replied Lavinia, with a superior air.

'A blue son! My precious granny, what will you say next?' murmured Amanda, faint with suppressed laughter.

'What are you muttering about?' asked Granny, sharply.

'Trying to recall those fine lines in "Wilhelm Meister;" don't you remember? "Wer nie sein Brod mit Thranen a.s.s,"' replied Amanda, polite even at the last gasp.

'I read my Goethe in decent English, and don't know anything about training a.s.ses,' returned Lavinia, severely.

That was too much! Amanda cast her paper down, and had her laugh out, as the only means of saving herself from suffocation. The others gazed upon her in blank amazement, till she found breath enough to enlighten them, when such peals of merriment arose, that the guard popped his head in to see if he had not unwittingly shipped a load of lunatics.

'That was splendid! But now we must sober down, for a gorgeous being is about to get in,' said Amanda, as they stopped at a station.

The gorgeous being entered, and found three demure ladies rapt in newspapers. They apparently saw nothing but the words before them; yet every one of them knew that the handsome young man had bowed in the most superior manner; also, that he was dressed in brown velvet, long gaiters, b.u.t.toned to the knee, a ravishing blue tie, buff gloves, and pouch and powder-horn slung over his shoulder. Also, that a servant with two dogs and a gun had touched his hat and said, 'Oui, monsieur le comte,' as he shut the door.

A slight thrill pervaded the statues as this fact was made known, and each began to wonder how the elegant aristocrat would behave. To say that he stared, feebly expresses the fixity of his n.o.ble gaze, as it rested in turn upon the three faces opposite. When satisfied, he also produced a paper and began to read. But Matilda caught a big, black eye peering over the sheet more than once, as she peered over the top of her own.

'I don't like him. Remember, we don't speak French,' whispered the discreet Amanda.

'I can swear that I don't,' said Lavinia, with an irrepressible smile, as she remembered the 'blue son.'

'The language of the eye is not forbidden me, and I can't sit baking under a newspaper all the way,' returned Matilda, whose blond curls had evidently met with the great creature's approval.

A slight pucker about the Comte's lips caused a thrill of horror to pervade the ladies, as Amanda murmured under her breath,--

'He may understand English!'

'Then we are lost!' returned the tragic Raven.

'Wish he did. I really pine for a little attention. It gives such a relish to life,' said Matilda, thinking regretfully of the devoted beings left behind.

The prudent Amanda and the stern Lavinia steeled their hearts, and iced their countenances to the comely gentleman. But the social Matilda could not refrain from responding to his polite advances, with a modest 'Merci, Monsieur,' as he drew the curtain for her, a smile when he picked up the unruly curling-stick, and her best bow as he offered his paper with a soft glance of the black eyes.

In vain Amanda tried to appal her with awful frowns; in vain Lavinia trod warningly upon her foot: she paid no heed, and left them no hope but the saving remembrance that she couldn't talk French.

'If the man don't get out soon, I'll tie her up in my shawl, and tell him she is mad,' resolved Lavinia, whose spinster soul was always scandalised at the faintest approach to a flirtation.

'If the man does speak English, Mat will have it all her own way,'

thought Amanda, remembering the vow imposed upon the reckless girl.

Alas, alas for the anxious twain! The man did _not_ get out soon, the man _did_ speak English, and in ten minutes Matilda was off, like a colt without a halter. The anguish of her keepers added zest to the fun, and finding that the gentleman evidently thought her the lady of the party (owing to the yellow gloves, smartest hat, and irreproachable boots), and the others in sober gray and black, were maid and duenna, this reprehensible girl kept up the joke, put on airs, and enjoyed that flirtatious hour to her heart's content.

As if to punish the others for their distrust, and to reward Mat's interest in him, M. le Comte devoted himself to Mademoiselle, telling her about his hunting, his estate, and finished by inviting her and her party to call and view his _chateau_, if they ever paused at the town, which had the honour of being his summer residence. Mat responded to all these courtesies with confiding sweetness, and when at length he was desolated at being obliged to tear himself away, she

'Gave sigh for sigh,'

as he retired with a superb bow, a gallant 'Bon voyage, mesdames,' and a wicked twinkle of the black eyes as they rested on the faces of the frozen ladies.

'I got rather the best of the joke in that little affair: didn't I?'

said Mat, gayly, as the brown velvet Adonis vanished.

'You are a disgrace to your party and your nation,' sternly responded Amanda.

Lavinia spoke not, but shook her little sister till the hat flew off her head, and she had only breath enough left to declare with unquenched ardour that she would do it again the very next chance she got.

Lectures, laughter, and longings for 'my Comte' beguiled the remainder of the way, and _Moulang_ (as Mat p.r.o.nounced Moulins) was reached after a pleasant trip through a green country, picturesque with the white cattle of Berri. There was not much to see, but the town was so quaint and quiet, that Amanda was seized with one of her remarkable projects.

'Let us find a little house somewhere and stay a week or two. I fain would rest and ruminate among the white cows for a while; have a little washing done, and slowly prepare to emerge into the world again. Lyons is our next point, and there we must bid adieu to freedom and shawl-straps.'

'Very well, dear,' responded Lavinia, with resignation, having learned that the best way to curb these aberrations of genius was to give in, and let circ.u.mstances prove their impracticability.

So Amanda inquired of the landlady if such a rustic cot could be found.

Whereupon the dingy little woman clasped her dingy little hands, and declared that she had exactly the charming retreat desired. Truly yes, and she would at once make her toilette, order out the carriage, and display this lovely villa to the dear ladies.

With many misgivings the three squeezed themselves into a square clothes-basket on wheels, drawn by an immense, bony, white horse, driven by a striped boy, and adorned by Madame, in a towering bonnet, laden with amazing fruit, flowers, and vegetables. Lavinia counted three tomatoes, a bunch of grapes, poppies and pansies, wheat ears and blackberry-vines, a red, red rose, and one small lettuce, with gla.s.s dewdrops and green grubs lavishly sprinkled over it. A truly superb _chapeau_ and a memorable one.

Away they trundled through stony streets, dusty roads, waste grounds, marshy meadows, and tumbled-down pleasure-gardens, till the clothes-basket turned down a lane, and the bony horse stopped at length before a door in a high red wall.

'Behold!' cried madame, leading them with much clanking of keys, into a cabbage-garden. A small tool-house stood among the garden-stuff, with brick floors, very dirty windows, and the atmosphere of a tomb. Bags of seed, wheel-barrows, onions, and dust c.u.mbered the ground. Empty bottles stood on the old table, cigar ends lay thick upon the hearth, and a trifle of gay crockery adorned the mantel-piece.

'See, then, here is a _salon_, so cool, so calm. Above is a room with beds, and around the garden where the ladies can sit all day. A maid can achieve the breakfast here, and my carriage can come for them to dine at the hotel. Is it not charmingly arranged?

'It is simply awful,' said Mat, aghast at the prospect.

'Settle it as you like, dear, only I'm afraid I couldn't stay _very_ long on account of the dampness,' observed Lavinia, cheerfully, as she put a hoe-handle under her feet and wiped the blue mould from a three-legged chair.

'It won't do, so I'll tell her you are an invalid and very particular,'

said Amanda, with another inspiration, as she led the landlady forth to break the blow tenderly.

'My neuralgia is useful if it isn't ornamental; and what a comfort that is!' said Lavinia, as she lightly threw a large c.o.c.kroach out of window, dodged a wasp, and crushed a fat spider.

And so it was in many ways. If the party wanted a car to themselves, Granny was ordered to lie down and groan dismally, which caused other travellers to shun the poor invalid. If rooms did not suit, suffering Madame _must_ have sun or perish. Late lunches, easy carriages, extra blankets, every sort of comfort was for her, whether she wanted them or not.

'Shall I be sick or well?' was always the first question when an invitation came, for 'my sister's delicate health' was the standing excuse when parties palled, or best gowns were not get-at-able.

While Amanda conferred with the hostess among the cabbages, Mat discovered that the picturesque white cattle in the field close by were extremely fierce and unsocial; that there was no house in sight, and the venerable horse and shay would never sustain many trips to and fro to dinner at the hotel. Lavinia poked about the house, and soon satisfied herself that it abounded in every species of what f.a.n.n.y Kemble calls 'entomological inconvenience,' and an atmosphere admirably calculated to introduce cholera to the inhabitants of Moulins.