01 The School at the Chalet (3 page)

Experienced Joey promptly helped to fasten the cases again, while Grizel, flushed and excited, gazed round her, wonder in her big grey eyes. She had never been out of England in her life before, so even the draughty, prosaic
douane
of Boulogne, where everyone had to go in queue with their cases, was invested with a certain pleasure glamour for her. The hoarse voices of the
douaniers
, the clamour of their fellow-passengers, the unusual trains with their funny, high engines, and little steps up into the carriages, were all fresh and new to her. Madge cast an amused glance at her absorbed face as they settled down in their second-class carriage.

The only other occupant was a little fat man in a loud check suit. He was mopping his face with a white handkerchief adorned with scarlet spots.

‘Eh, it’s ‘ot,’ he said, his accent at once betraying him for a Yorkshire man. ‘’Ot for this time o’ t’ year it is.’

Years ago, Miss Madge’s nurse had accused her of being ‘as friendly as a mongrel puppy.’ She had kept this quality throughout her life. She was always interested in people, and, having met nothing but friendliness in all her twenty-four years, she had the same fearless, somewhat confiding manner with strangers as the pup to which nurse had likened her. So, instead of snubbing the good-hearted little man’s advances with frosty good breeding, she answered him pleasantly. He had had little education, as was evident, but he felt a kindly, if curious, interest in the trio in his carriage, and when, a little later, they produced sandwiches and milk, he vanished, to return with some magnificent gooseberries, which he begged them to share with him. Again, Grizel looked for the icily polite snub her stepmother would have given him.

Madge only thanked him for his kindness with the direct simplicity which was so much a part of her charm, and offered him sandwiches in return.

Over their meal they became quite friendly, and, before they reached Paris, he had found out that she proposed running a school in the Tyrol. He commended the scheme, and offered to try to find her pupils among his customers-he was a wool manufacturer from Bradford, as it turned out. They were quite sorry to say ‘good-bye’ to him when they reached Paris; but he was going on to Lyons that night, and they were to spend the next two or three days in the gayest city in the world. It was five o’clock-or seventeen, if you cared to take French time-by the time they had arrived, and both Jo and Grizel were tired, so Madge made no attempt to do anything that night. They went to their hotel, a quiet one, not far from the Madeleine, and after having arranged for the remainder of the week, they were shown to their rooms, where
thé à l’Anglais
was sent up. Then they all three bathed and changed, and Jo was packed off to bed, whither Grizel speedily followed her. By nine o’clock they were both fast asleep, and Madge, since there was nothing else to do, followed their example.

They all woke early, and after
petit déjeuner
of coffee and rolls, prepared to go out.

Naturally, since they were so near, the Madeleine was their first objective. Jo had seen it before, but she was perfectly willing to visit the great church which Napoleon had begun as a ‘Temple of Glory,’ and which he was destined never to finish. Grizel looked at it with wonder in her face.

‘Somehow, I didn’t think Napoleon was a religious man,’ she observed thoughtfully. ‘Whatever made him want to build a church?’

‘He wasn’t; and he didn’t,’ explained Madge. ‘I forget what his idea was, but it certainly wasn’t the idea of the average man. But then he wasn’t an average man, of course! Anyway, it’s rather a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Not to be compared with Notre Dame, of course!’

‘Is he buried here?’ asked Grizel.

‘No, in the Invalides,’ replied Jo, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the great Emperor. ‘We’ll go and see his tomb. But I must get some flowers. I always put them there to show that someone remembers him.’

‘A good many people remember him besides you,’ said her sister drily. ‘ He’s not exactly in danger of being forgotten. And for goodness’ sake, Jo, don’t make the scene you made last time!’

‘I only threw the flowers over the railings,’ protested Jo.

‘I know what you did all right! If only you hadn’t been standing at the corner, and if only you could throw straight, it wouldn’t have mattered! As it was, you nearly let us in for imprisonment under the impression that you were flinging bombs about!’

‘If the idiot guide had ducked it would have been all right!’ retorted Joey.

‘How was he to know you were going to throw flowers about in that way? Of course, if he’d realised, I dare say he would have ducked, and then Guardian would have been saved an expensive
pour-boire
! If you want to put flowers on Napoleon’s tomb to-day, you must be content with pushing them through the railings as far as you can. Well, I think we’ve seen everything here, so we may as well go to the Champs-Elysées.

We’ll take a bus there. Then we’ll go up it a little way, and get another bus to the Pont Alexandre. From there, it’s easy to get to the Invalides. When you’ve done worship at the shrine, you two, we’ll have
déjeuner,
and after that, we go to the Louvre by the Métro.’

‘And the opera to-night,’ supplemented Joey. ‘ Oh, topping!’

Madge nodded. Mr Cochrane had given her an additional cheque, with the request that she would take Grizel about as much as possible. He was not a devoted father, but some strange feeling of regret that he meant so little to his only child had prompted him to do this. The money was ample, and he had bidden her take her younger sister as well.

‘Children always enjoy that sort of thing better when someone of their own age is with them,’ he had said.

‘Please include Miss Joey in the party.’

‘Are we really going to the opera?’ asked Grizel incredulously.

‘Yes. It’s
La Bohême
to-night. I don’t know how much of it you’ll understand, but the music is lovely,’

replied Madge, as they boarded a bus. ‘ Look out of the window, Grizel. We’re coming to the Place de la Concorde, where the guillotine stood during the Reign of Terror.’

Joey, the insatiable reader, murmured softly, ‘Sydney Carton!’ But Grizel’s knowledge of the French Revolution was confined to that gained from the Scarlet Pimpernel stories, and when, as they reached the famous space, the younger girl softly quoted the closing sentences from A Tale of Two Cities, she paid no heed. The Champs-Elysées pleased her far more with their bustle and life. Madge chuckled softly to herself as she walked between them. The outlook of the two children was so totally different. Joey always saw Paris through a rose-mist of history and legend; Grizel, now that her first wonder was over, so obviously took all that side of it for granted, and devoted herself to its life and people. At the church of the Invalides she did rouse to enthusiasm over Napoleon; but it was only temporary, and she stared at Joey when that faithful devotee pushed a few sprays of lilies of the valley between the railings that surround the famous Emperor’s tomb.

After Les Invalides, they had
déjeuner
at one of the many restaurants, and then took the Métro to the Louvre, which bored that little Philistine, Grizel, almost to tears. The opera, however,, was an entire success, True, neither of the children understood much of the story, but the exquisite music appealed to both, and even matter-of-fact Grizel felt a lump come into her throat when Mimi died. The next day was devoted to a trip up the river to St Cloud and Sèvres, which pleased Miss Cochrane far more than the Louvre.

‘I like to see things done,’ she explained to Joey. ‘Of course, pictures and statues are all right, but they’re not half so interesting as seeing people do things now. And I think St Cloud is awfully jolly! I wish we’d been able to go up the Eiffel Tower, though.’

‘You’ve done quite enough for to-day,’ declared Madge, with an anxious eye on Joey’s white face. ‘To-morrow we’ll go out to Versailles, and then on Monday we must be getting on. I’m going to send you to bed when we get back, Joey. You look done!’

‘I’m all right,’ replied Jo. Nothing would have induced her to own that her back and head were aching, and that bed was the one thing for which she was longing. However, her sister had not known her for twelve years without learning something about her, and to bed she went as soon as they reached their hotel.

On the next day they went to Versailles, and spent long, happy hours wandering about that magnificent extravagance of Louis XIV. The gardens filled them with admiration, and Grizel thrilled at seeing the Hall of Mirrors, where the Peace Treaty had ended the Great War. From there, they went on to the Trianons, with their dainty artificiality, where poor Marie Antoinette and her court ladies had played at being milkmaids and shepherdesses clad in flowered silks, while, less than twenty miles away, the Paris mob was beginning to cry aloud for bread. The whole place was peopled with gay, exquisite ghosts for both Madge and Jo, and even Grizel became infected by them, and half expected to see some hooped and powdered lady, with raised fan and brilliant eyes, beckon to her from behind one of the statues. Madge was wise enough to take them back early, after they had seen the famous fountains playing, and the next day was spent in visiting Notre Dame and looking at the shops.

Grizel was anxious to buy nearly everything she saw, but Madge kept a tight rein on her. She would only allow her to change a little of her money into francs, and then she insisted that choice must be carefully made. Finally, at the Louvre a lace collar was chosen for Cook; several postcards were bought and sent off; then, at Jo’s suggestion, they went to the Luxembourg Gardens, which lay bathed in April sunshine. Grizel was deeply interested in the French children who romped about there, carefully watched by mothers and nurses. The
carrousel,
with its lions and elephants, and gay little hurdy-gurdy, took her fancy completely, and she insisted on having several ‘goes,’ rather to the amusement of Jo, who strayed off to the fountain, where bare-legged and crop-haired small boys were sailing their boats to a general chorus of, ‘Quel est beau!’ ‘Ah, mon Dieu!’ ‘C’est bien que possible!’ ‘Voleur! C’est le mien!’ And, more than once, ‘Fermes le bee, toi!’

Here Madge and Grizel found her when they came a little later, haranguing two small, bewildered-looking boys in a polyglot mixture of French and English.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ demanded her sister.

‘Telling them to fight fair,’ responded Jo calmly. ‘ Their boats got mixed up, and they went for each other.

That one,’ coolly pointing, ‘tried to scratch the other, and he kicked him. I pulled them apart, and was just telling them not to scrap like girls, when you came!’

The two little boys had been staring at her with horrid fascination. Now, as she reached the end of her explanation, they suddenly grabbed each other’s hands and, taking to their heels, fled.

‘You’ve scared them!’ laughed Grizel. ‘Oh, Joey, I think it’s lovely! I caught the ring five times, and the man said it was superb!’

‘Well, now let’s have
déjeuner
‘ suggested Madge. ‘ I’m hungry, if you aren’t.’

Déjeuner
over, they strolled along to the Champs-Elysées, and joined in the merry throng round ‘Guignol,’

which is a French version of Punch and Judy. After that, they met the old woman who sells toy balloons and zeppelins, and nothing would do but that they must each have one. Tea they had at a
pâtisserie
, where Grizel rejoiced once more in the delightful custom which ordains that each customer shall take a plate and fork to the counter and help himself to delicious sandwiches and cakes before settling down.

‘So much more sensible than English shops,’ she said.’ They always bring the things you don’t want–’

‘Like horrid spongy cakes with butter-icing!’ chimed in Jo. ‘I loathe them! Now éclairs, I could go on eating for ever!’

‘And beautifully sick you would be,’ said Madge firmly. ‘No, you don’t, Joey, my child! Remember, our train leaves at nine. Finished? Le comptoir, s’il vous plaît.’ This last to the pretty waitress who stood near.

After that, they returned to their hotel to pack up and have dinner, and half-past eight saw them at the Gare de l’Est, climbing into the Paris-Wien train express.

‘Here start our Austrian adventures,’ observed Jo, as she curled herself up comfortably in a corner. ‘You can’t count Paris!’

‘Can’t you? I do!’ replied Grizel. ‘It’s all been absolutely thrilling, so far!’

‘Go to sleep and don’t talk,’ ordered Miss Bettany. ‘We shall be in Switzerland, I hope, when you wake tomorrow.’

‘Switzerland?’ Grizel sat bolt upright in her excitement.

‘Yes; we reach Basle about six in the morning. Now, be quiet!’

And she refused to say another word or to let them talk, so they subsided, and before long all three were fast asleep, while the great train hurled onwards through the darkness.

Chapter 4.

Austria at Last!

IT was half-past seven on the Wednesday evening when the Vienna express slackened speed before entering the Innsbrück Station. By this time Grizel was weary of the train, while Jo’s tongue had long ceased wagging, and she lay in her corner of the carriage gazing dreamily out at the darkening landscape.

‘We’re only an hour late,’ observed Madge, as she collected their belongings together. ‘We’ve missed the last train of the mountain railway, so we’ll have to go to an hotel somewhere for the night.’

‘I shan’t be sorry,’ replied Grizel decidedly. ‘Will Mr Bettany meet us, or shall we have to fish for ourselves?’

‘Dick will meet us all right,’ said Jo, rousing herself up to answer this question. ‘Where shall we put up, Madge-at the Europe?’

‘I suppose so,’ replied her sister. ‘Or there’s the Kreide, only it’s farther away.’

‘I hope it’s somewhere near,’ returned Jo wearily, ‘I should like to have a bath and go to bed! Hello, we’re slackening!’

‘There’s Dick!’ exclaimed Madge, as she hung out of the window. But Dick had seen her, and was already running along by the side of the carriage, shouting a cheery greeting to them.