The Exiles (12 page)

Angelique Fortier had been a tyrant too long to give up her power. She had been humiliated by Damita, but it was the new girl that aroused her hatred. She waited no longer than Chantel’s first night to seek her revenge. She made a plan with Laurel Dutretre, and late that night, she struck.

The two girls crept into the room that Chantel shared with five other girls and fell on Chantel while she was asleep.

Chantel cried as hands dragged her out of her bed.

“Now you’re going to get it!” Laurel declared.

Angelique had a belt and struck Chantel across the legs with it.

Chantel was of a rather placid temperament, but the blow enraged her. She threw herself onto Angelique and grabbed two handfuls of hair. Angelique screamed at the top of her lungs while Laurel began to pummel Chantel.

Suddenly the room filled, and Chantel was freed from the grasp of the two girls. She came to her feet to see Damita, Simone, and Leonie—all in their nightgowns. Damita was carrying a belt, and she said, “I thought you’d try something like this! Hold them down, Musketeers!” The Musketeers surrounded Laurel and Angelique and held them down.

The cries quickly brought Sister Martha into the room, and she snatched the belt from Damita’s grasp. “What in the world are you doing?” she demanded.

Angelique was crying in great blubbery sobs. “They got us in here with lies, Sister!” She clung to the nun, inventing lies at a rapid rate.

“She’s a liar!” Damita said. “She and Laurel came in here to whip Chantel, and we gave them a taste of the their own medicine!”

Sister Martha held up her hand. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” She turned to a shorter, younger girl whose face already showed fear. “Who started this, Mary Ann?”

The young girl took one frightened glance at Angelique, who gave her a vicious stare and held up a fist behind Sister Martha’s back.

“It—it was her. The new girl.”

At that moment Chantel knew that her fate was set. She listened as several girls—all frightened of what would happen to them if they implicated Angelique and Laurel—lied boldly to Sister Martha.

The nun turned to Chantel. “I’m disappointed in you, Chantel. Your first night and already in trouble. I’m going to have to punish you severely. You will report to me tomorrow morning before classes. Now, all of you go to bed. If I hear one more word out of any of you, you will all be very sorry.”

Sister Martha left, and the girls all went to bed, but not before Laurel hissed one more comment. “You’re not going to like it here, Stick Legs! We’ll make you wish you had never been born!”

Chantel tried valiantly, but it was useless. Sister Martha believed the testimony of the other girls and said, “You must learn to control your temper, Chantel. I’m restricting you for the next week from all recreational activities. You will have extra work in class. I will not use the rod on you this time since you are new, but the next time you will receive a beating. Do you understand?”

Chantel lifted her head high. “They lied about me. I don’t tell lies, Sister Martha.”

Sister Martha hesitated. There was such fearlessness in the girl that she could not feel easy about her decision. She well knew that some of the older girls bullied the others, but they were sly, and she had been unable to catch them in it. While she could not relent, for discipline must be upheld, inwardly she resolved to keep a closer eye on what was happening inside the dormitory.

Chantel was punished for what took place in her room, but she didn’t care. Damita, Simone, and Leonie encouraged her—and Damita threatened Angelique so fiercely that she and all her clique were intimidated.

After this rather rough introduction to her new life, Chantel found the school bearable. She had been hungry for friends, and now she had three of them! Everyone in the school, including the nuns, recognized that these four were knitted together in some sort of mystic bond.

Sister Martha remarked to Sister Agnes, “I think those four are going to be all right. I’ve been worried for some time about Angelique. She’s a cruel girl—but those four seem to have found a way to deal with her.”

“Yes, they have,” Sister Agnes agreed. “With a belt! I was shocked at first, but the ‘Four Musketeers’—as they call themselves—have actually brought a good thing to the other girls.”

“They’re very strong willed, aren’t they? Except for Leonie, of course.”

“Yes, they are. But it took something like this to stop Angelique and her crowd from persecuting the others.”

Chantel’s life fell into a pattern. She did well in her studies, for she was by far the most advanced student of all the girls. She did especially well in mathematics and in languages, but she did not do as well in the other areas, such as sewing and the domestic sciences.

Many weeks later, Chantel went home for a visit with her father. He had received a recent report from the school about Chantel. “Sister Martha sent me a report of misbehavior. What were you thinking?”

Chantel looked at her father and told the whole story about Damita and Laurel—and about the Four Musketeers. “I’m telling the truth, Papa. All the others are afraid of Angelique and Laurel. They’re horrible girls. They steal from the younger ones and anyone who is weak.” She held her head high. “It is the truth. I swear it.”

Cretien stared at his daughter. He knew that she was an exceedingly truthful girl. Only once that he knew of had she told him a lie, when she was no more than seven or eight. She had come to him the next day in tears confessing her fault, for she had been unable to live with it. Since that time he had never found her to be untruthful in any way.

Now he said, “I am sorry it is that way.”

“May I come home and live with you, Papa?”

Cretien nodded. “Yes, I think that might be best. You will still attend classes, but you will not be subject to those awful girls.”

“Oh, Papa, I’m so happy!”

Cretien held Chantel. He saw the joy in his daughter’s eyes and felt shame. “It will be all right,
mon chère.
Don’t trouble yourself any more.”

Life became bearable for Chantel once she came home. She knew Sister Martha had been surprised by her father’s decision, but there was nothing the nun could do about it. Every day Chantel had breakfast with her father. Robert or Elise walked with her to the convent, where she stayed until four o’clock. The weekends, of course, were free, and she often rode Lady in the park.

The riding pathways were not crowded one fine day in August when she and Lady were out enjoying the bright weather. When Chantel saw a man riding a bay horse ahead, she determined to pass him. She kicked Lady’s flanks and spoke to her, and the mare broke into a run. As they passed the man, Chantel heard the bay pick up his pace and a voice call her name. Soon the rider pulled up even with her, and she saw with surprise the smiling face of Neville Harcourt.

“Mr. Neville!” she cried and pulled Lady down to a walk. “I’ve looked for you many times, but I’ve never seen you here.”

“I’ve been a little busy lately. It’s so good to see you. You look fine, Chantel. How are things going with your schooling?”

Chantel hesitated, then she remembered with warmth how Neville had taken her out of his father’s office and treated her like an adult. Words tumbled from her lips as she began to tell him all about her experiences at the convent. Finally she stopped and blinked. “I’m talking too much.”

“Not at all. I’m very interested. And I’m very glad you’re living at home again. Tell me all your other problems.”

Chantel giggled. “You don’t want to hear them all.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve thought about you a lot.”

“I hated to disappoint my father. That was the worst thing about all that trouble at school. He really wanted a son, Mr. Neville.”

“I think you can leave the
Mister
off, Chantel. We’re good friends, aren’t we?”

Chantel smiled warmly and nodded. “Yes, I suppose we are. Anyway, my father always wanted a son, but he only got girls.”

“Well, I can understand his disappointment. But he did get a fine young lady out of it. He ought to be proud of you.”

“I don’t think he is, really.”

“Of course he is.” Neville assured her, and tried to bolster her confidence. “But you’re not the only one who has problems.”

“You have problems? I didn’t think adults had problems like young people.”

Neville laughed. “This is the happiest time of your life. Everything’s downhill from now on, Chantel.” He saw her expression, reached over, and tweaked her hair. “I’m just teasing you. You’ll have a beautiful life.”

“What are your problems, Neville?”

Neville Harcourt was silent for a moment. He studied Chantel’s eager face. “Well, my father is unhappy with me.”

Chantel was amazed. “But why?”

“I’m not really interested in the law. I do the best I can, but I don’t think I’ll ever please him. And he doesn’t like my appearance.”

Immediately Chantel turned her face on him. “Why, you look fine!” she said. She ducked her head and said, “My father’s disappointed in my appearance, too. I’m not beautiful like my mother.”

“But you’re not grown yet. In another year or two you’ll have men following you around the streets of New Orleans begging you to marry them.”

Chantel laughed. “That’s silly!”

“It is not! It’s true.”

“That’s what Elise says. I don’t believe either one of you. They call me ‘Stick Legs’ at school.”

“Don’t pay any attention to them.”

“What’s wrong with the way you look?” Chantel asked. “I think you look very nice.” Actually she had not thought he was handsome at all when she first met him, but she had since changed her mind.

“Well, I’m not a large man, as you can see. As a matter of fact, I expect when you’re grown, you and I will be about the same height. My father wants men to be big like he is.”

“Don’t you pay any attention to him! You look very nice,” she said again.

Indeed, Neville had a pleasant face. He was always neatly dressed, and although he was not as large as her own father or as Mr. Oliver Harcourt, he was well-knit and cut a handsome figure in his riding clothes.

“Well, I suppose we’ve told each other all of our problems.”

As they rode on, Chantel found herself able to talk to Neville quite freely. “I’ve been reading the Bible you gave me a lot.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do. It’s so exciting. I’ve read all of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”

“What did you think, Chantel?”

Chantel was silent. The Catholic church taught that only priests were qualified to read and interpret the Bible. She did not want to be disloyal to her own beliefs, but, indeed, the New Testament had become one of her favorite pieces of reading. “I love Jesus,” she said softly. “He was so kind, and He helped everybody.”

“I’m glad you see that. I feel the same way.”

“And they were so mean to kill Him. Why did they have to do that, Neville?”

“Well, it’s a little bit complicated.”

“I’m very intelligent. You can explain it to me,” Chantel said firmly.

“You’re not overly modest though. Well, it’s like this, Chantel. All you have to do is look around to see that something’s wrong with the world. There’s evil everywhere, injustice, and people getting hurt. That’s because of sin. When sin came into the world, it didn’t stop with Adam. All of us, his descendants, are affected by it.”

“I know. I confess my sins every week to one of the priests.”

“We all need to confess our sins. Do you remember John the Baptist?”

“Oh, yes, I liked him. Herod killed him. He was a mean king.”

“He certainly was. Do you remember the first thing John the Baptist said when he saw Jesus?”

Chantel thought hard. “He said, ‘Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.’”

“Exactly right! You have a fine memory. Well, what did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t understand it.”

“As you read the Old Testament you’ll find out that the Jews always sacrificed a lamb, the most perfect lamb they could find. They confessed their sins to the priest, and the priest killed the lamb, and symbolically the sins of the people were on that lamb. The lamb couldn’t really take away sin, although God could, of course. But when Jesus came John said, ‘Here is the
real
Lamb of God!’ So, when Jesus died, Chantel, all the sins of the world were on Him.”

“I get scared when I read about Him dying.”

“So do I. Perhaps because God had forsaken Him.”

“How could that be?”

“Because the sins of the world were on Him—my sins and yours. All people sin. But now all sinners can be forgiven because Jesus died for our sins.”

Chantel was silent. She was an introspective child with an ability to reason far beyond her years. Finally she said, “Catholics have to do penance. You’re not a Catholic, are you, Neville?”

“No, I’m what you would call a Protestant.”

“Do you have to do penance?”

“Not as you would think of it.”

“When I tell the priest I did something wrong, he makes me say twenty Hail Marys or do without something good that I like.”

“It probably does you good to fast, and prayer is always a good thing. But actually when I sin, I do things quite differently.”

Chantel was fascinated. “What do you do? You don’t go to a priest?”

“As a matter of fact, I do—but not to one that you can see.”

Chantel’s eyes were huge. “You can’t see him? Is he invisible?”

“In a way. The Bible says that Jesus is our High Priest, and that we can go directly to Him and confess our sins. When you go home, look in First John. Not the gospel of John, but the first letter in the back written by the same man who wrote the gospel. Look at the first chapter, verse nine. It says this: ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’”

Chantel listened carefully and then said, “So, you just pray and ask God, and He forgives you?”

“That’s right. When I was sixteen, I asked Jesus to come into my heart, and He did. And He’s been there ever since. I hope you’ll ask Him into your heart, Chantel.”

All this was strange to her. She looked at him and said, “I don’t understand it, Neville. It’s too complicated.”