Chapter 8 A Girl of High Adventure by L. T. Meade
BROWN HATS AND FANS
It is one of the astonishing and also one of the blessed things of life that children of the age of Marguerite St. Juste quickly accommodate themselves to circumstances. She was naturally a very brave little girl, and she had a heart warmer than most, but there was a quiet determination about her, that same determination which had won her way into all the hearts of the good folks at Desmondstown, and this she brought now to her aid.
Her French grandpère was very nice, and she set to work to learn French as quickly as she could, in order to be able to converse with him not only in the English tongue but also in his own. The young new wife said that la petite Comtesse was altogether of the most ravishing. The old Comte said nothing at all, but he looked at la petite out of his twinkling black eyes and tried hard to see her father in that bonny little brown face—in those steadfast, deep, very dark eyes and in those smiling coral lips, but although little Margot had the dark eyes of her father, very dark and very beautiful, she had what was better for herself, the soul of her mother. It was because of that soul that Kathleen Desmond had been so loved and because further she had happened to impart that soul to her little child Margot, who was in consequence more Irish than French.
Nevertheless she must remain for three months with Madame la Comtesse and with Monsieur le Comte, her grandpère.
There was one relief, however, for her. She had little or no affection for her French relations, but she did most truly adore the idea of going to school at Arles and of learning something about French girls in general.
Madame la Comtesse had most solemnly promised dear Uncle Jacko to send her to school and Marguerite waited impatiently for the day and hour when she might commence her studies. The day and hour, however, seemed to be a long way off. Each day as it came she was expected to devote all her time to her grandpère and to make the old man laugh by her funny attempts at the French language. Still there was no talk of school. There was, however, a vast amount of talk of dress.
"Mon grandpère" laughed until he could hardly stop laughing when he saw Margot in her pretty French costumes. He chuckled when she attempted to imitate his French and Madame kept on saying, "Fi donc, fi donc! Ah! but thou mightst be a child of three and thirty to hear thee talk. See, behold! How thou dost make thy grandpère laugh. Thou dost do him much good. Fi donc, petite Comtesse, thou must not make him laugh till he expires. Has he not already the liver too pronounced? We must take care of him, ma petite. He wishes for thy company and I—behold I have my château. Tiens! it comforts me not a little."
Margot gazed with some amazement at her young grandmother.
"Thou hast made a promise, ma grand'mère," she exclaimed. "The days fly and you do not fulfil it—you do not carry it out. See, behold, Madame, it is of the most religious. You said it with those lips to the holiest man in the world. Behold, Madame, there will come a curse on thee if thou dost not carry it out."
"Non, non, non," cried Madame, in great distress of mind. "Speak not so cruelly, ma petite Comtesse. See, mon enfant, I love thee. Thou shalt have another chapeau."
"I don't want another chapeau," said Margot. "I'd like to go to school, where the really young girls—not the old young girls—live. Thou didst promise, Comtesse. Thou must keep thy word."
"But thou dost give pleasure to the old man, thy grandpère. Think of that, ma petite."
"I will give him greater pleasure when I go to school," said Margot. "I will bring him back day by day stories—ah, of the funniest. He will laugh. Thou wilt see, Comtesse, how he will enjoy himself."
"Ma petite, thou hast a wise head," said the Comtesse. "Thou shalt have thy way. There is a school for the trimming of hats and for the perfect education in the French tongue, by one Thérèse Marcelle. I will take thee to her to-morrow morning."
"But I don't want to learn to trim hats," said Margot.
"Ah, but it is a rare accomplishment, little one. Thou will learn it and peut-être the piano also, and peut-être the French tongue in all its perfection."
"And are the girls at Thérèse Marcelle's old young, or only young?" enquired Margot.
"Ah, ma petite bébé, they are one and all of the youngest and the gayest. See, I will take thee to-morrow. I am the last woman in the world to break my word."
Margot skipped away in her light and graceful manner and the next morning she and the Comtesse St. Juste drove into Arles in one of the very newest and best motor-cars of the time. They stopped before a large magasin, which looked to little Margot far more like a gorgeous shop than a school. There were chapeaux innumerable displayed in certain windows, there were all sorts of robes—robes of every sort and description also to be seen.
Madame entered smiling, holding the little hand of la petite. She was greeted by smiles from every one in the shop. In fact, her entrance seemed to bring a ray of sunshine with it. All the young women who were walking about and attending to different customers were trying to catch her eye in order to secure one of her much treasured smiles.
Madame la Comtesse, however, knew her own mind and, motioning to Margot to seat herself, entered into conversation of a very earnest and at the same time spirited nature with a young woman who sat behind a sort of raised counter. Margot was left to look around her. She was much, indeed greatly, puzzled by what she saw. What could have happened—what a very queer sort of school this was!
Presently a number of ladies came in and Margot forgot her own immediate interests in the excitement of watching them. They did not look like English ladies nor did they look like French. One of them was very large and very fat and red. She had a square figure planted on large square feet and a firm jaw indicating a tenacity of purpose, which the ill-natured might call pig-headedness. A young and very pretty French girl came up and spoke to her.
She said that she required a chapeau, condemning as she spoke the entire style of Madame Marcelle's goods.
"There is only one thing here that would suit me," she said. "See, behold!" she pointed to a very small child's hat in a corner. It was trimmed with small bunches of marguerites and violets. Her friend expostulated with her but she did not take the least notice.
"J'aime beaucoup le chapeau là," she said, pointing to the one of her choice.
"Ah," exclaimed the young French shop-girl. "Le chapeau pour la bébé. It is nice, is it not? But now, we must find something Parisian for Madame herself."
Before Margot could quite get to the end of this exciting story and find out which hat the red-faced, fat woman required, Madame la Comtesse came to her side.
"I have settled for thee, ma petite," she said. "Thou wilt come here each morning and take lessons in the making of chapeaux, then, after that is over, thou shalt have an hour in which to learn the French tongue and half an hour to do the different harmonies on the piano. Then thou wilt return to my Alphonse. Thou wilt be a very happy chère petite. See, I leave thee now under the care of Madame Marcelle."
Margot did not know whether to laugh or cry. The Comtesse whisked out of the shop amidst more nods and smiles and Madame came and took Margot's little hand.
"Behold," she said, "thou art of the ancienne noblesse. Now thou wilt learn. I myself will instruct thee. Dost thou see that woman with the red face?"
"Oh, yes," said Margot, "she is very ugly."
"She wants to find a hat," said Madame, "which would only suit a bébé. Now then, come. You and I we will go to her and show her what is right. Thou must flatter her into buying a Parisian chapeau. She would look absurd with her own ideas."
"I thought this—this was a school," said poor little Margot, raising her brown eyes and fixing them on Madame Marcelle.
"So it is a school, ma petite Comtesse, and of the most wonderful, the most extraordinaire. Ah, Madame la Comtesse is right to have you taught. A little knowledge goes a long way when it is acquired as I will teach it. Now, then, stand aside and listen. You will soon learn. I manage in this school of all schools the best. Come! Hold my hand."
She brought the pretty child forward and stood right in front of the red-faced lady.
"You want a chapeau, Madame. Ah, c'est drôle, ne c'est pas? That is for la bébé." She pointed with scorn at the tiny hat. "Here is one for you. See, I am in the despair to oblige you, but behold I have the very thing."
Madame produced a hat from off its stand, covered with flowers, butterflies and small feathers of different colours.
"Behold for yourself, Madame! It came from Paris yesterday."
"It is too showy. I like the little hat best," said Madame of the red face.
"Let me speak," suddenly interrupted little Margot. "Your face behold! it is red and must be softened. You shall wear brown. See, I picture it in my eye," continued Margot, speaking as though she had been acting shop-woman all her days. "A brown hat très doux and one long feather to match. Have you such a hat, Madame?" exclaimed little Margot.
"It is wonderful the taste of the Comtesse," cried Madame. "She sees at once what will suit you, chère Madame."
"The Comtesse! That little girl a Comtesse!" cried the astonished red-faced American lady.
"Ah, oui, Madame. She is the young Comtesse St. Juste and her taste it is of the most exquisite. Paris itself cannot touch her."
"Why does she come here?" asked the American. "But get me the brown hat with the brown feather. She looks like a child who has pretty taste."
Little Margot stood very silent. She was not going to laugh. Having given her idea she stuck to it. Her grave and lovely eyes were fixed on the American's face. The brown hat was produced in a twinkling. It was tried on. It was pronounced perfect.
"I will have a fan to match," said the American.
"Ah, oui, c'est bon," said little Margot. "I will myself choose it for you, Madame."
She chose a fan made of brown feathers with a long tortoise-shell handle.
"Here, behold!" said little Margot.
Immediately the other American ladies buzzed round the brown hat and round the brown fan, and little Margot found herself acting as shopwoman and enjoying herself immensely.
"And now the price, Mademoiselle la Comtesse," said the red-faced American, when all the ladies had been provided with hats and fans.
"I know not," said Margot. "Madame, you will tell the price. For me, I am fatiguée." She marched away, hearing however behind her a perfect buzz of remonstrance.
The prices were monstrous—they were absurd. They were beyond even thinking about.
Madame stood calmly by, holding a pile of hats with brown feathers in her hand.
"It is the will of la petite Comtesse," she remarked, and then again she stood silent.
By-and-bye the hustle grew so great, the noise so animated, that Margot wondered how the whole thing would end and when these horrid, disagreeable women would leave the shop. But after storm there came peace. The brown hats and the brown fans hastily arranged themselves, the money was paid, one hundred and fifty francs for each chapeau, and one hundred and thirty francs for each fan.
Madame danced up to Margot and kissed her several times.
"We have made—we have made—oh, so much for your dot, little one," she said. "You are the very best saleswoman I ever knew. What will our sweet Madame la Comtesse say when we tell her! Six chapeaux at 150 francs apiece, six fans at 130 francs apiece! Ah, but it is marvellous! You have the natural gift, little one. Come with me now, into the apartment, where we sell the robes of all sorts and colours. You will make the fortune of this place, little Comtesse."
"I will not go with you, Madame," cried little Margot. "This is not a school—it is a shop. I want to learn my French. I demand that I learn it. I will not again give counsel about hats for ugly women."
"You will learn the tongue of the French so ravishing in those apartments set aside for les robes," cried Madame. "Come, my little Comtesse, you are a genius and must not throw away your gift."
"I tell you I am fatiguée," cried Margot. "I will not enter a shop; I will go to school. It is a vow taken. Where is my grand'mère? See, I will do nothing more in your horrid shop."
"Ah, ma pauvre petite," cried the good-natured Madame. "La petite, she is tired out and no wonder. Ah, ma chérie is it not for your own dot? Now, come, listen. There is one playing in the other room. He is playing those delicious songs of Wagnère. Courage, mon enfant. You have done well and are tired. Ah, look at that robe in exquisite satin, coloured as the oyster, and that single row of pearls round the neck and that magnificent diamond star crowning the summit of le chevelure! See the air it lends. Will you not help me to sell that costume so ravishing, my little Comtesse?"
"Non, non, I hate it all!" said Margot. "I will listen to the music of Wagnère until my French mistress comes and then I will return to M'sieur le Comte St. Juste, mon grandpère. Ah, but I am miserable—miserable in a shop. What would The Desmond say if he saw his pushkeen in a shop?"
Madame saw that she had gone as far as she could with the little Comtesse. She placed her where she could listen to the beautiful music which delighted the child and soothed her troubled heart, and then a young Frenchman entered the appartement, and with his knees and heels tightly pressed together made a very low bow to the little Comtesse St. Juste. He began talking to her in a lively manner in the French tongue, correcting her mistakes and teaching her how to use the French language properly.
Margot was a wonderfully quick little pupil, but she sprang up with delight when she saw the Comtesse enter.
The Comtesse had an earnest conversation with Madame and approached Margot, her black eyes full of smiles and her cheeks very bright.
"Ah, but thou art of the very best, mon enfant," she cried, and she took the little Comtesse in her arms and kissed her before everyone in the shop.
The child and the woman got into the motor-car and drove off as quickly as possible in the direction of the château.
"Thou must never do that again, grand'mère," cried Margot.
"Do what, ma petite, my cabbage, my pigeon?"
"That was a shop, not a school. I desire to go to a school," said Margot. "I will tell M'sieur le Comte, my French grandpère."
"Thou wilt not, thou couldst not be so cruel," exclaimed her French grandmother.
"Ah, but I could and I would. I will not learn in a shop."
"Then, however am I to get thee thy dot, ma petite?" cried the Comtesse, "and thou hast a gift in that way—a gift the most marvellous. Didst thou not sell six brown hats and six brown fans to-day? Thou hast the true taste running in thy veins, ma petite."
"But you don't want me to sell hats," said Margot.
"Yes, I do, I do. Thou hast the gift. Madame confirms it. Tell not thy grandpère or he will rage—he would rage in the French fashion and that might cause la mort. Ah, ma petite, thou wilt not injure thy pauvre grandpère."
"But I do not understand," cried little Margot.
"I will put it clear to thee if thou wilt not tell thy grandpère."
"Perhaps I will not tell," said Margot.
"Thou must not tell, ma petite. The hats and fans thou didst sell were mine and the money goes towards thy dot. Go to my most beautiful établissement each day for one hour, for thou hast most truly the gift of selling, and the title of the little Comtesse goes far. Then I will call for thee and take thee to a school, a school for the daughters of the ancienne noblesse. Wilt thou do this for thy pauvre belle grand-mère and wilt thou keep it dark—very dark from thy grandpère?"
"But why—why must he not know?" asked little Margot.
"Because, ma petite, when I met that most noble and ancient gentleman, the château was going to ruin. He wanted the comfort but he had not l'argent. I told him I had le dot and he married me. He thinks I have given up the établissement where the chapeaux and the robes are, but how could I give them up, ma petite Comtesse, when we would have nothing to live on otherwise? See, thou hast the gift and thou canst help me; one hour a day amongst my chapeaux, one hour a day for la petite Comtesse to show her taste, and then I take thee to the very best school in Arles."
"Will you really, Comtesse?" asked Margot.
"I will, really, my most beautiful, my most lovely bébé. Do not embarrass thyself. All will be well. It is a bargain between us. No word to the Comte, thy grandpère! He is too feeble and too proud. He has the pride of all the St. Justes in his veins, but he lives in comfort out of my établissement. Wilt thou not help me for one hour or two hours a day, little Comtesse?"
"Yes, if you keep your word about the school," said Margot. "I will not otherwise, indeed I will not."
"No fear, ma petite, my word is my bond."
"But," said Margot, "when I get back now, what am I to say to grandpère? How can I talk to him about the shop which is thy shop?"
"Tell him thou didst go into an établissement with me, thy grand'mère, and describe to him the American lady with the stout figure and the red face. Tell him what she wanted and what thou didst suggest. Ah, but he will laugh—he will roar."
"I like Ireland better than France," said Margot solemnly, "but I will do what thou dost wish on this one occasion, grand'mère, for otherwise I could not live. To-morrow I will attend thy horrible shop for one hour and one hour only, and then I will go to the school where the young-young girls are and where I can be taught. See, thou hast promised."
"I have promised and I will fulfil," said her grand'mère. "The school belongs to my friend, M'selle la Princesse de Fleury. Thou dost not know how much thou wilt learn there. It is chic of the chic. Oh, la! la! thou wilt enjoy thyself at the Princesse de Fleury's school."
So little Margot entered the old château fairly satisfied. To be taught by a Princess seemed a very high honour indeed, and she determined to lose no time in picking up knowledge to delight Uncle Jacko and dear, dear grand-dad, The Desmond.