Treasures of the Snow (20 page)

“I can’t tell you about the old man, sir,” replied Lucien, “because I promised not to. He’s a sort of secret, and no one ever goes to see him except me. He said I was just to tell you it was the payment of a debt and nothing else at all, sir. And he’s been so kind to me, I couldn’t break my promise.”

“All right,” said Monsieur Givet. “You shan’t break your promise. I won’t ask you anything more about him. Tell me about this little cripple. When did he hurt himself, and how did it happen?”

Lucien went very red. He didn’t answer for a few minutes. He didn’t want to tell his new friend what had really happened, but as Monsieur Givet would be sure to find out from the Burniers, it might be better if he heard it first from Lucien. So he replied, “It was my fault, really. It was last spring. I was teasing him. I pretended to drop his kitten over the ravine, then by mistake I really did drop it. Dani tried to rescue it and fell and hurt his leg, and since then he’s never walked properly—only with crutches—and I thought perhaps …”

His lips trembled and his voice trailed off miserably into a whisper. But he had said enough. For the doctor loved and understood children, and in those few broken sentences he had understood the whole story. He knew that this tired boy lying on the bed had been punished very bitterly.

“Lucien,” he said, “we’ll see this child together. It may be that God is going to make you the means of curing him. You know, Lucien, you have a great deal to thank God for. I think He must have been looking after you in a very special way last night or you would never have come across the Pass alive.”

“Yes, I know,” answered Lucien shyly and eagerly. “You see, only yesterday I prayed that God would make Dani better. Then when I heard about you, I thought it was the answer. But when I got to the forest, I felt frightened and nearly went back, but I remembered something I heard at Christmas and thought I’d go on instead.”

“What did you remember?” asked Monsieur Givet gently.

“I remembered some verses in the Bible that Dani’s grandmother read to us,” answered Lucien slowly. “I can’t remember it all, but it said that perfect love drives out fear. And Grandmother said Jesus’ love was perfect, so I wasn’t afraid and I went on. I can’t remember much about the journey, but I got here safely.”

“Yes,” replied Monsieur Givet. “I don’t think anything but the perfect love of the Lord Jesus could have sheltered you in that storm or guided you on the right road or kept you from being too afraid to go on. He’s been very, very good to you, Lucien. Let’s thank Him now, before our dinner comes.”

Lucien buried his face in the pillow, and Monsieur Givet knelt by the bed and prayed. He thanked God for His perfect love that is stronger than storm or blizzard, which had guided Lucien’s steps through the darkness and saved him from fear and death. Then he prayed for little Dani, that God would give him, the doctor, skill to heal that lame leg.

Lucien, with his face in the pillow, prayed as well, only not out loud “Lord Jesus,” he cried in his heart, “You were near me on the mountain and I wasn’t afraid. Don’t go away again. I want to open my door like Annette did. Please come in.”

M
onsieur Burnier met the mule train himself, with his own mule sleigh, and drove Monsieur Givet and Lucien up to the chalet. All the villagers came to their front doors to see the famous doctor pass, as everyone had heard the story. They were all talking about Lucien as if he was a great hero for being so brave to cross the Pass as he did.

Monsieur Burnier sat silently in the driver’s seat, not knowing what to think about it all. It was rather a responsibility having such a famous man on that sleigh. He only hoped the mule, who was very frisky that day, wouldn’t tip the sleigh over the edge on one of the bends, which often happened.

He was worried about the money, too. Of course he would give every penny he had to see Dani cured, but he didn’t have many pennies, and what if they weren’t enough? Perhaps this very famous man would accept a young bull by way of payment.

Fortunately, they reached the chalet without any adventures or upsets, and Monsieur Burnier helped the doctor get down and then lifted poor Lucien in his strong arms and carried him up the steps and into the front room, where he laid him on the couch. He, too, was pleased to see Lucien, for he had spent a long, weary night searching for him in the drifts.

Grandmother, Annette, and Dani looked rather odd, as though they were about to have their photo taken. They were all dressed in their very best clothes, sitting in a stiff little group on the edge of the best chairs. They looked as though they had been sitting there expecting the very famous man for a long time. When he came in, Annette and Dani looked at Grandmother and stood up politely.

Dani was not at all pleased. He had thought that a very famous man would be dressed in a red robe like the governor who made William Tell shoot the apple off his son’s head, in Annette’s Swiss history book. This stranger who came in behind Papa didn’t look very special at all.

The doctor sat on a chair as far away as possible from the group and smiled at them. He had a nice broad smile, and Dani forgot his disappointment and smiled back.

Monsieur Givet put his hand in his pocket, took out a sweet, and held it out.

“Would you like a sweet, Dani?” he asked.

Dani grinned happily and nodded his head hard.

“Come and fetch it, then,” said Monsieur Givet, and Dani hopped delightedly across the room while the doctor watched him very closely. When the child reached him, he lifted him onto his knee and put the sweet in his mouth.

He really liked this family—especially this chuckling, friendly, blue-eyed little boy who sat noisily sucking a sweet on his lap. He noticed, too, that there was no mother, and wondered whether it was the old woman or the little girl who kept the chalet looking so neat and tidy.

“Does your leg hurt?” asked Monsieur Givet.

“No,” answered Dani.

“No,
Monsieur,
” corrected Grandmother.

“Monsieur,” added Dani. “Only sometimes, when I walk without my crutches. My crutches have got bears’ heads on them. Would you like to see them?”

“Very much indeed,” said Monsieur Givet, and as Dani hopped over to fetch them he again watched him very closely.

“I can do enormous great hops on my crutches,” announced Dani proudly. “Would you like to see me?”

“Very much indeed,” answered the doctor again.

“Be careful of the chairs, Dani,” said Grandmother quickly, for she had forbidden Dani to do enormous great hops in the house. Annette quickly picked up two kittens, as she wasn’t sure where Dani would land.

The hop was a hugh success, and the doctor clapped his hands. “Well done,” he cried. “That was exactly like a kangaroo I once saw at the zoo. Now put down your crutches and walk to me without them.”

Dani limped toward him, smiling, but dragging his lame leg rather pitifully. Monsieur Givet smiled back, lifted the little boy very gently onto his knee again, and gave him another sweet.

Grandmother, who had been watching very closely, turned to Annette.

“Annette,” she said, “put the kettle on and make a pot of tea and bring out the biscuit tin.”

While Annette was getting the tea, Monsieur Givet laid Dani flat on the table and twisted and turned his leg about for a long time. In fact, when he had finished the tea was ready and Grandmother invited him to sit down and drink with them. He seemed to be thinking hard.

“Well,” said Grandmother at last, rather sharply, “can you do anything for him?”

Every eye in the room was fixed on him as they waited for his answer—except for Dani, whose eyes were fixed on the biscuits, because they had forgotten to pass him one and Grandmother would be cross if he got up and helped himself. They were special bricelet biscuit—thin, crisp, golden and delicious, and Grandmother made them once a month on a special grill.

Monsieur Givet did not answer at once. He turned to Dani instead.

“Dani,” he said, “would you like to be able to run about like other little boys?”

Dani hesitated. He was not quite sure. He was the only boy in the village who had bear crutches, and it made him a very special person. Then he remembered that spring was coming, and unless he could run about he would not be able to chase the baby goats in the meadows as he had done last year. And chasing baby goats was such good fun.

So he said, “Yes, thank you, I would. And please, Grandmother, may I have a bricelet biscuit?”

No one answered. Lucien and Annette were sitting with their cups held in midair and both were rather pale. Everyone was still staring at Monsieur Givet.

“Dani,” said the doctor suddenly, “where’s that fine cat gone?”

“To the woodshed,” said Dani. “Would you like to see her? She’s got three kittens.”

“Yes, please,” answered Monsieur Givet, and Dani limped off to find Klaus, helping himself to two bricelet biscuits as he passed the table, but nobody seemed to notice.

As soon as the door had closed on Dani, Monsieur Givet turned to Papa.

“I think I may be able to help you,” he said, leaning forward and speaking very earnestly, “although I can’t tell for certain until I’ve seen an X-ray of it. I think the bone was never set properly and has joined up wrongly, but I could break it again and pull it out straight. It would mean an operation and a long stay in the hospital. Would you be willing to let him come?”

Papa rubbed his hands together miserably and looked helplessly, first at Grandmother and then at Annette. He had no experience with operations and the word sounded horrible. Besides, he had been told that operations were expensive, and he wouldn’t be able to pay.

“How much would it cost?” he asked at last, scratching his head.

“It wouldn’t cost you anything,” replied Monsieur Givet. “Lucien has paid for it himself, in any case. I can’t explain now because Dani will be back and we must decide before he comes. Will you let me take him?”

“Yes,” replied Grandmother, who hadn’t been asked.

“When?” inquired Annette.

“Tomorrow morning,” replied Monsieur Givet. “I shall be catching the early train, and can take Dani with me.”

“Where am I going on the train?” said a clear voice. Dani had come in quietly through the back door and no one had noticed him. Now he stood at Monsieur Givet’s elbow with an armful of kittens, looking pleased. He had only been on a train once in his whole life just for ten minutes, but he had never forgotten it.

No one answered. They were still staring at Monsieur Givet.

“Where, Grandmother?” asked Dani again. The doctor turned to Dani. “Dani,” he said, “you’re coming with me down to the lake, and you’re going to stay with me for a while, and I hope I’m going to make your leg better. Would you like that?”

Dani looked as if he wasn’t too sure about it. “And Annette?” he asked firmly. “And Grandmother and Papa and Klaus and the kittens? Yes, Monsieur, we shall all like it very much.”

“Oh, no, Dani,” cried Annette. “We can’t all go; You’ve got to be good and go by yourself. Monsieur Givet will look after you and you’ll soon come back.” She was nearly crying herself.

The effect of these words was terrible. Dani flung himself, kittens and all, into Annette’s arms and burst into tears, making the most deafening noise.

Never had they heard such a row. Annette hugged and kissed him, Grandmother tried to soothe him, and Papa pressed handfuls of bricelet biscuits into his clenched fists, but nothing helped. The family looked at each other helplessly. Monsieur Givet knew he had to think of something very quickly.

He turned to Grandmother. “Does the little girl know anything about looking after children?” he shouted above the din.

“She brought up this one,” shouted back Grandmother.

“You had better send her with her little brother then,” yelled Monsieur Givet. “She can help my wife.”

“Dani,” shouted Annette, shaking him to make him listen, “I’m coming, too!”

Dani stopped at once, gave three hiccups, and smiled. Monsieur Givet did not smile back. He picked up the little boy and spoke to him seriously.

“I’m afraid you are very spoiled, Dani,” he said.

“When you come to my hospital, you will have to do what you are told without any fuss or screaming.” He put Dani down. “I am going to take Lucien home if you can lend me a sled,” he said. “So I will say good-bye for now. The two children will meet me on the platform at 8:30 tomorrow morning with all that they need for the next two or three months. Annette shall help my wife in the mornings and go to evening classes for her schooling. In the afternoons she can be free to be with her little brother.”

Papa shook hands dumbly and wiped his brow. Things were moving so fast that he felt he had been left behind. But he was beginning to understand that for two months, starting tomorrow, he had to live without Annette and Dani in a silent, tidy chalet. He went stumbling over to the cowshed to milk and try to think things out.

Grandmother said good-bye at the door, and held the doctor’s hand for some moments. “You are a good man,” she said suddenly. “God will reward you.”