The Tapestry Room Part 12

"And two of everything," said Marcelline; "and the great thing is to keep each of the twos in its right place."

She smiled now, right out, and was turning away with the light in her hand, when Hugh called after her,

"_Will_ the moonlight nights come again soon, Marcelline? Do tell me.

I'm sure you know."

"Have a little patience," said the old nurse, "you shall be told. Never fear."

And, a little inclined to be _im_patient, Hugh was nevertheless obliged to shut his eyes and go to sleep. There was no moonlight _that_ night any way.

But not many nights after there came a great surprise.

Curiously enough Hugh had gone to sleep _that_ night without any thought of tapestry adventures. He and Jeanne had been very merry indeed; they had been dressing up, and playing delightful tricks--such as tapping at the salon door, and on being told to come in, making their appearance like two very, very old peasants, hobbling along on sticks--Jeanne with a cap and little knitted shawl of Marcelline's, Hugh with a blouse and cotton nightcap, so that Jeanne's mother quite jumped at first sight of the quaint little figures. Then Jeanne dressed up like a fairy, and pretended to turn Hugh into a guinea-pig, and they got Nibble up into the nursery, and Hugh hid in a cupboard, and tried to make his voice sound as if it came from Nibble, and the effect of his ventriloquism was so comical that the children laughed till they actually rolled on the floor. And they had hardly got over the laughing--though Marcelline did her best to make them sit still for half an hour or so before going to bed--when it was time to say good-night and compose themselves to sleep.

"I shan't be able to go to sleep for ever so long," said Hugh; "I shall stay awake all the night, I believe."

"Oh no, you won't," said Marcelline, with a smile, as she went off with the light.

And strange to say, hardly had she shut the door when Hugh did fall asleep--soundly asleep. He knew no more about who he was, or where he was, or anything--he just slept as soundly as a little top, without dreaming or starting in the least, for--dear me, I don't know for how long!--any way it must have been for several hours, when--in the strange sudden way in which once or twice before it had happened to him to awake in this curious tapestry room, he opened his eyes as if startled by an electric shock, and gazed out before him, as much awake as if he had never been asleep in his life.

What had awakened him, and what did he see? He could hardly have told what had awakened him but for what he _now_ saw and heard. A voice, a very well-known little voice, was speaking to him. "Cheri dear," it said, "Cheri, I have come for you. And see what I have got for you." And there before him stood little Jeanne--but Jeanne as he had never seen her before. She seemed all glistening and s.h.i.+ning--her dress was of some kind of sparkling white, and round her waist was a lovely silver girdle--her sleeves too were looped up with silver bands, and, prettiest of all, two snow-white wings were fastened to her shoulders. She looked like a fairy queen, or like a silvery bird turned into a little girl.

And in her hand she held another pair of wings exactly like her own.

Hugh gazed at her.

"Have you been dressing up?" he said, "and in the middle of the night?

oh how funny! But O, Jeanne, how pretty you look!"

Jeanne laughed merrily. "Come, get up quick, then," she said, "and I'll make you pretty too. Only I can't promise you a head-dress like mine, Cheri."

She gave her head a little toss, which made Hugh look at it. And now he noticed that on it she wore something very funny indeed, which at first, being black--for Jeanne's hair, you know, was black too--had not caught his attention. At first he thought it was some kind of black silk hood or cap, such as he had seen worn by some of the peasants in Switzerland, but looking again--no, it was nothing of the kind--the head-dress had a head of its own, and as Hugh stared, it c.o.c.ked it pertly on one side in a way Hugh would have known again anywhere. Yes, it was Dudu, sitting on Jeanne's smooth little head as comfortably as if he had always been intended to serve the purpose of a bonnet.

"Dudu!" exclaimed Hugh.

"Of course," said Jeanne. "You didn't suppose we could have gone without him, Cheri."

"Gone where?" said Hugh, quite sitting up in bed by this time, but still a good deal puzzled.

"Up into the tapestry castle," said Jeanne, "where we've been wis.h.i.+ng so to go, though we had to wait for the moonlight, you know."

The word made Hugh glance towards the window, for, for the first time he began to wonder how it was his room was so bright. Yes, it was streaming in, in a beautiful flood, and the tapestry on the walls had taken again the lovely tints which by daylight were no longer visible.

Hugh sprang out of bed. "Are these for me?" he said, touching the wings which Jeanne held.

"Certainly," she replied. "Aren't they pretty? Much nicer than your wall-climbers, Cheri. I chose them. Turn round and let me put them on."

She slipped them over his head--they seemed to be fastened to a band, and in a moment they had fitted themselves perfectly into their place.

They were so light that Hugh was hardly conscious of them, and yet he could move them about--backwards and forwards, swiftly or slowly, just as he chose--and as easily as he could move his arms. Hugh was extremely pleased with them, but he looked at his little night-gown with sudden dismay.

"You said you'd make me look pretty too, Jeanne," he observed. "I don't care for myself--boys never care about being grandly dressed--but I shall look rather funny beside you, shan't I?"

"Wait a minute," said Jeanne, "you're not ready yet. I'm going to powder you. Shut your eyes."

He did so, and therefore could not see what Jeanne did, but he felt a sort of soft puff fly all over him, and opening his eyes again at Jeanne's bidding, saw, to his amazement, that he too was now dressed in the same pretty s.h.i.+ny stuff as his little cousin. They looked just like two Christmas angels on the top of a frosted Twelfth Night cake.

"There now," said Jeanne, "aren't you pleased? You don't know how nice you look. Now, Dudu we're quite ready. Are we to fly up to the castle?"

Dudu nodded his wise head. Jeanne took Hugh's hand, and without Hugh's quite knowing how it was managed, they all flew up the wall together, and found themselves standing on the castle terrace. There was no light streaming out from the windows this time, and the peac.o.c.ks were quite motionless at their post.

"Are they asleep?" said Hugh.

"Perhaps," said Dudu, speaking for the first time. "They lead a monotonous life, you see. But there is no occasion to disturb them."

They were standing just in front of the door, by which, the last time, Hugh had entered the long lighted-up pa.s.sage. As they stood waiting, the door slowly opened, but to Hugh's great surprise the inside was perfectly different. A very large white-painted hall was revealed to them. The ceiling was arched, and looking up, it seemed so very high, that it gave one more the feeling of being the sky than the roof of a house. This great hall was perfectly empty, but yet it did not feel chilly, and a faint pleasant perfume stole through it, as if not far off sweet-scented flowers and plants were growing.

Hugh and Jeanne stood hand-in-hand and looked around them. The door by which they had entered had closed noiselessly, and when they turned to see the way by which they had come in, no sign of a door was there. In the panels of white wood which formed the walls, it was somehow concealed.

"How shall we ever get out again?" said Hugh.

But Jeanne only laughed.

"We needn't trouble about that," she said. "We got back all right the last time. What I want to know is what are we to do next? I see no way out of this hall, and though it's rather nice, it's not very amusing.

Dudu, I wish you would sit still--you keep giving little juggles on my head that are very uncomfortable, and make me feel as if I had a hat on that was always tumbling off."

"I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle Jeanne," replied Dudu with great dignity. "You really do say such foolish things sometimes that it is impossible to restrain one's feelings altogether. No way out of this hall, do you say, when it is the entrance to everywhere?"

"But how are we to get to everywhere, or anywhere?" asked Jeanne.

"Really!" said Dudu, as if quite out of patience. "When you are running up and down the terrace, in your other life, you don't stand still at one end and say, 'Dudu, how am I to get to the other?' You move your feet, which were given you for the purpose. And in present circ.u.mstances, instead of your feet, you naturally----"

"Move our wings," cried Jeanne. "Oh, of course. We're to fly. But you see, Dudu, we're accustomed to having feet, and to running and walking with them, but having wings is something new."

Dudu still looked rather contemptuous, and Hugh gave a little pull to Jeanne's hand.

"Let's set off," he said.

"But where are we to go to?" asked Jeanne.

Dudu gave a little croak. "Really," he said again. "What am I here for?"

"Oh, to show us the way, of course," said Jeanne. "You're going to steer us, I suppose, on the top of my head. Well, we're quite ready."

Off they set. The flying this time was really quite a pleasure in itself, and the higher up they rose the easier and swifter it seemed to become. The hall was lighted from the roof--at least the light seemed to come down from among the arches so high up that their form was only vaguely seen. But whether it was daylight or what, the children did not know, and perhaps it did not occur to them to think. They just flew softly on, till suddenly Dudu veered to one side and stopped them in front of a low carved door with a step before it just large enough for them to stand on. They had not noticed this door before--the hall was so very large and the door in comparison so small, and the step before it had looked just like a little jutting-out ledge in the carving, till they were close to it.

"Don't turn round," said Dudu, "for fear it should make you giddy. Push the door and go in at once."

The children did so. The door yielded, and then immediately--they were such well-behaved doors in the tapestry palace--closed behind them. And what the children now saw was a small winding stair, the lowest steps of which were close to their feet.