Emily and the Lost City of Urgup (2 page)

She went up stairs to Seth’s room where he had a blackboard on a stand. She found a piece of chalk and scampered back down, outside to the sidewalk. She drew a pattern of squares on the sidewalk then looked around for a small flat stone. Explaining the game to the professor, she tossed the stone onto a square and then, on one leg, hopped onto another square and bending over on one leg retrieved the stone. The professor’s turn came next. He took the stone in his hand. It disappeared between has long fingers and thumb. Then he flipped it like a marble and it sailed out of sight. This happened with three other stones and Emily gave up the test.

There was only one test left and so far the professor had not passed even one of the others. She explained that she and the professor would “pack my grandmother’s trunk’ with either fruits or vegetables starting with the letter ‘A’ and going through the alphabet ending with “Z”. Each person had to remember all the fruits and vegetables. She started. “I packed my grandmother’s trunk and in it I placed an apple.” He went on, “I packed my grandmother’s trunk and in it I placed an apple and a banana.” When Emily got to the letter I, she seemed stuck. She said timidly, knowing the answer wasn’t exactly proper, “Idaho potato. “Well done,” said the professor. This surprised Emily; her father would have protested that answer.

His letter ‘J’ was jicama which was sounded with an ‘H’, not a ‘J’ He explained that jicama was a tuberous root of the pea family and when eaten raw in salads in the Southwest tasted quite sweet. They continued on. Emily was astounded how quickly the professor rattled off the fruits and vegetables in a staccato voice without ever pausing to remember one. But he got the letter ’X’. The dreaded letter. Even her father lost when he got ‘X’. He paused, as if he were reading the dictionary in his mind. “Aha,” he said, “although I am not sure this is really proper.” Then he added ‘xanthan gum’, a natural gum used by companies to stabilize manufactured foods.

Finally he got ‘Z’, the other tough letter. “Zinfandel,” he completed the alphabet proudly, explaining it was a black grape used in making wine. Emily beamed. Not because he finally passed one of her tests. Rather that in each she had learned more and more about this older friend of her grandfather’s. He was awkward and he was shy. But he was modest and incredibly bright and most important of all, he was so kind and gentle and thoughtful. He had all the attributes one would wish for in a friend.

Even her mother was taken by the professor. Watching him attempt to pass her daughter’s tests without ever being condescending, she saw a wonderful teacher.

The professor outlined the trip. He and Emily would sail on the lie de France from Boston to Le Havre on the 15th of June. The sailing would take six days. From there they would take a train to Marseilles to board a smaller boat of the French Line and sail to Beirut in Lebanon. Professor Dasam would meet them there to arrange the rest of the journey.

To insure that Emily used the time to good advantage, the professor had hired a Madam Babbette Boissiere to instruct her in French, which was the main language of the Levant, although they would for the most part be in Arabia.

Sarah looked at her daughter, her eager eyes, her imploring face. How could she deny Emily a trip of a lifetime.’ “All right,” she said, “but Ernest, if anything happens to Emily I will go to the farthest corner of the globe, put you in stocks in the middle of the Boston Commons for everyone to mock you. Do you understand me.” Emily had never heard her mother talk like that. Even her father looked totally surprised. “A little over-dramatic, but I think the professor understands your feelings, Sarah,” he commented.

“What are stocks?” Emily asked. “It means, dear girl, should I not return you safe and sound, your mother will have me placed with my face and hands and feet sticking out through wooden holes in a fence, to be made a fool of by every person passing by,” Witherspoon answered.

Even her mother was embarrassed by his description.

CHAPTER TWO:
“You Naughty Boy”

THE DAYS FLEW
by as Emily prepared for her summer in Arabia with Professor Witherspoon. Her father bought her a large steamer trunk and her mother packed her clothes for two months. The days would be hot, so she had shorter skirts and cotton blouses and socks that would go up to her knees. The nights would be cold, so she had warm woolen nightgowns, sweaters, long dresses and full length sleeves on her blouses. She even had a hat with an very large brim that was wider than her shoulders. Her mother said it was to keep the sun off her pale face.

She also packed several quarts of maple syrup as presents to Professor Dasam and Madam Boissiere. Her dad said that they would enjoy them because there were no maple trees in that part of the world. Emily thought about that - how sad not to see the glorious colors of Fall when the maple trees turned every color of yellow and orange and red.

The day before the ship left, Emily and her father and Professor Witherspoon drove to Boston and stayed at an elegant hotel called the Ritz Carleton. Her mother stayed at home with Seth and when she hugged and kissed Emily goodbye, Emily could feel a shudder and gasp in her mother’s voice as she whispered, “I love you, my dearest, and I shall count the days until you come home.”

Boston was so much bigger than Emily’s town. Around the Commons there were several churches, hotels, stables for horses, garages for automobiles, a pond with swans and a place to rent row boats. Do you know why they call this area the “Commons”? Professor Witherspoon asked and then answered. “Originally this was common land for all the people of Boston to feed their sheep and goats and cows. Later on when the number of citizens of Boston were too many for all of them to use the Commons, they made it a park.

At ten o’clock the following morning, Emily and Professor Witherspoon boarded the great French liner called the Ile de France. They were traveling “Cabin Class” which was the middle of three classes of state rooms on the boat. The top was called “First Class” and it was reserved for the very richest travelers. The bottom was called “Third Class, which was the least expensive and popular with students and poor families returning home.

As Emily entered her stateroom, she smelled an elegant perfume and turned to her left to see before the most beautiful older woman she had ever met. Her silver hair was piled high into an unusual knot, the lashes of her eyes twice the size of Emily’s mother’s, outlining large brown eyes. She had high rouged cheekbones and bright red lipstick which should have looked garish but didn’t on this lady. Her one detraction was her size. She was hardly taller than Emily

“Emilie, ah mon chere,” she said. “I am Madam Babbette Boissiere, but you shall call me Madam Bibi.” “It is now 10:45 AM and your first French lesson will begin at 11:30 AM so that we can lunch at the last sitting at 2:15 PM like civilized persons.” With that Madam Bibi left the state room. “Civilized persons,” thought Emily. She had never eaten lunch that late in her life and she did not appreciate Madam Bibi’s suggestion that she and her mother and father were uncivilized.

Nevertheless, at 11:30 Am sharp Madam Bibi arrived at the state room and took Emily to another room for her lessons. “This is the card room,” Madam Bibi explained, “but it is not used before the afternoon so it will be our classroom.” Emily has never studied a foreign language before and had not the faintest idea how the studies would be done. She soon learned. like English there were verbs and nouns and all of the other words that modified them but there was much more which Madam Bibi taught with the most engaging manner. She would always place her French in some context of Emily’s life or what she approved of for Emily’s life.

After lunch, there was a short nap followed by lessons so that they would also eat dinner at 10:00 PM “like civilized persons”. Even Professor Witherspoon accepted the Madam’s dictates. As he told Emily aside, “you know the French are famous for their cooking.”

Not only was lunch and dinner eaten quite late, but Madam Bibi had strict ideas of what “civilized persons” ate. Much of it Emily loved, but when she discovered that she was eating the brains or the pancreas or even the intestines of an animal, she lost her appetite and asked to be excused one evening.

“Ah, Professor,” said Madam Bibi, “you Americans have such limited minds, such peasant tastes, such lack of adventure in food.” “I suppose you could call us “meat and potatoes,” he answered, “and please call me Ernest.” “Ah, we shall change that, mon chere Ernest,” she replied. “There is a dance this evening. Would you care to escort me?” she went on.

Professor Witherspoon was flabbergasted. Such brazen behavior to almost force him into dancing. Outrageous. He looked at Bibi, who gave him her best fluttering eyelashes, and said, “I would be delighted.”

Having gone to bed without supper, Emily found herself very hungry. She peered out of her state room just as a porter was passing. “May I do something for you, miss?” he asked. Emily explained how she had not dined and was hungry. “We can fix that,” he answered. “Put on your shoes and follow me.” They went past the dining room into a large ballroom with chandeliers lit with hundreds of lights, chairs in plush red fabrics, tables filled with candles and glasses of wine. Couples were dressed in black tie and evening gowns, either talking at the tables or dancing.

The porter put Emily at a small table in a corner where she could see but not be seen too well. In a few minutes he returned with a plate full of smoked salmon, cheeses, cold cuts, small pickles, butter, bread and a glass of milk. “Bon Appetite,” he announced and left. While Emily ate, she suddenly spied Madam Bibi and the professor dancing. He seemed quite awkward, often tripping over Madam Bibi’s elegant tiny slippers. She heard the Madam say, “Oh you naughty boy!” when the professor tripped. “How could she address him as if he were a child,” Emily thought.

By the time Emily finished her meal she was so tired it took all her effort to find her state room and drop into her bed, fully clothed.

But she awoke with a start the next morning as the ships bells and horns blew. Already dressed she stepped out into the corridor to find both Madam Bibi and the professor dressed and carrying large orange vests with them. “Ah, mon chere,” said Madam Bibi, “you are a clever girl to dress so quickly for the fire drill. Put this on and follow us onto the deck.” An officer of the ship, with his uniform showing two stripes around his cuffs, explained what to do if the ship should catch fire. They would be put in the life boats that were secured on the sides of the deck.

After the drill, all three went to eat breakfast. “A barbaric rite, Ernest,” said Madam Bibi. “I shall have a croissant and coffee in my room, if you will please excuse me,” she added as she marched out of the dining room. The professor seemed more amused than surprised and winked at Emily. Emily drank her orange juice and looked forward to her bacon and eggs.

The lessons went well. French was fun. But even more fun was the strange way Madam Bibi spoke English. “Professor Witherspoon is more than meets the eyes, yes?” she noted. “How can somebody be more than meets the eyes?” Emily wondered.

Emily’s French had advanced much faster than Bibi had imagined. So much so that before an afternoon lesson when Emily asked about Bibi’s life, she decided to tell Emily about life in France.

“My father was an army officer. He was a second son and in Europe the second son does not inherit as does the first, so he often joins the army.

“Inherit?” asked Emily.

“The family estate, in our family it would be my father’s vineyard in Bordeaux. So my father went to Saint Cyr, the great military academy, like your West Point. It was difficult for him because his family were Huguenots.”

“Huguenots?” Emily asked again.

“Protestants. You know France is a Catholic country, and my mother came from a very strict Catholic family. So there was quite a fuss about the marriage of their daughter brought up in schools run by Nuns marrying not just a religious non-believer but a Protestant as well. But my grandfather was really a non-believer and he adored my father.

I was told he said to my grandmother, “which do you prefer, a boring, unimaginative son-in-law who attends matins every afternoon or a well educated, amusing, alert, questioning young man who adores our daughter and is quite willing to be instructed by Priests even though you know he has no real interest in any religion.” I think my father had already won over my grandmother, so they were married.”

“As you know, the Great War came when I was thirty-six. An old maid, as you would say.

“You could never have been an old Maid,” exclaimed Emily.

“Well, it is an old and sad story. I was once in love, when I was eighteen. He was an officer in my father’s company. Not really a soldier, he was a physician. Tall, angly, shy, not unlike the professor, with dark hair and eyes that sparkled. We were in love, but when he proposed to marry me, everything fell apart. Phillipe was Jewish and his parents were absolute that he marry within his religion. Mine were so very different. I don’t think they cared much about religion. If you love him and he loves you and he is a good man was all they wished. But to be fair to Phillipe’s parents, there was very little intercourse between these religions. How shall I explain it. Christians and Jews lived separately and if not spoken aloud there was a distinct aloofness, a looking down on Jewish people. I am sure they wished to protect him from moving too tightly into such an un-Christain, Christian society. Ah my cher, you look so sad.”