Nobody's Girl Part 17

"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran," said the old woman.

"Good day, Francoise."

"What can I do for you, sir; I'm at your service."

"I've come about your brother Omer. I've just come from his place. His drunken wife was the only person there and she could not understand anything."

"Omer's gone to Amiens; he comes back tonight."

"Tell him that I have heard that he has rented his hall to some rascals to hold a public meeting and ... I don't wish that meeting to take place."

"But if they've rented it, sir?"

"He can compromise. If he doesn't, the very next day I'll put him out.

That's one of the conditions that I made. I'll do what I say. I don't want any meeting of that sort here."

"There have been some at Flexelles."

"Flexelles is not Maraucourt. I do not want the people of my village to become like those at Flexelles. It's my duty to guard against that. You understand? Tell Omer what I say. Good day, Francoise."

"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran."

He fumbled in his vest pocket.

"Where is Rosalie?"

"Here I am, Monsieur Vulfran."

He held out a ten cent piece.

"This is for you," he said.

"Oh, thank you, Monsieur Vulfran," said Rosalie, taking the money with a smile.

The buggy went off.

Perrine had not lost a word of what had been said, but what impressed her more than the actual words was the tone of authority in which they had been spoken. "I don't wish that meeting to take place." She had never heard anyone speak like that before. The tone alone bespoke how firm was the will, but the old gentleman's uncertain, hesitating gestures did not seem to accord with his words.

Rosalie returned to her seat, delighted.

"Monsieur Paindavoine gave me ten cents," she said.

"Yes, I saw him," replied Perrine.

"Let's hope Aunt Zen.o.bie won't know, or she'll take it to keep it for me."

"Monsieur Paindavoine did not seem as though he knew you," said Perrine.

"Not know me? Why, he's my G.o.dfather!" exclaimed Rosalie.

"But he said 'Where is Rosalie?' when you were standing quite near him."

"That's because he's blind," answered Rosalie, placidly.

"Blind!" cried Perrine.

She repeated the word quite softly to herself two or three times.

"Has he been blind long?" she asked, in the same awed voice.

"For a long time his sight was failing," replied Rosalie, "but no one paid any attention; they thought that he was fretting over his son being away.

Then he got pneumonia, and that left him with a bad cough, and then one day he couldn't see to read, then he went quite blind. Think what it would have meant to the town if he had been obliged to give up his factories! But no; he wasn't going to give them up; not he! He goes to business just the same as though he had his sight. Those who counted on being the master there, 'cause he fell ill have been put in their places." She lowered her voice.

"His nephews and Talouel; they're the ones I mean."

Aunt Zen.o.bie came to the door.

"Say, Rosalie, have you finished, you young loafer?" she called.

"I've only just this minute got through," answered Rosalie, defiantly.

"Well, there are some customers to wait on ... come on."

"I'll have to go," said Rosalie, regretfully. "Sorry I can't stay with you."

"Oh, don't mind me," said little Perrine, politely.

"See you tonight."

With a slow, reluctant step Rosalie got up and dragged herself to the house.

CHAPTER IX

ONE SLEEPLESS NIGHT

After her new friend had left, Perrine would like to have still sat at the table as though she were in her own place, but it was precisely because she was not in the place where she belonged that she felt she could not. She had learned that the little garden was reserved for the boarders and that the factory hands were not privileged to sit there.

She could not see any seats near the old tumble-down house where she was to lodge, so she left the table and sauntered down the village street.

Although she went at a slow step, she had soon walked down all the streets, and as everyone stared at her, being a stranger, this had prevented her from stopping when she had wanted to.

On the top of the hill opposite the factories she had noticed a wood.

Perhaps she would be alone there and could sit down without anyone paying attention to her.

She climbed the hill, then stretched herself out on the gra.s.s and looked down over the village ... her father's birthplace, which he had described so often to her mother and herself.

She had arrived at Maraucourt! This name, which she had repeated so often since she had trod on French soil, the name she had seen on the big vans standing outside the Gates of Paris. This was not a country of dreams. She was in Maraucourt; before her she could see the vast works which belonged to her grandfather. He had made his fortune here, bit by bit, sou by sou, until now he was worth millions.