Chapter SIX: The Prisoner Freed (2)

"Don't be scared," Paul told her. "You'll be fine. But Flip, how time has crept up on us!"

"Like the wolf at the door." Flip tried to laugh; then, her voice suddenly pleading, the voice of a very small, frightened girl, she begged, "You'll be there, Paul?"

"I promise," Paul said. "Don't worry, Flip. I'll be there."

10

Friday morning after breakfast the lists for the ski meet were on the board. Flip had rushed through breakfast as usual in order to get a last morning's work-out on her skis, so she was the first to sign up. She took the pencil attached to the board by a long chain and looked at the intermediate events. There was Form, which she signed up for; the short race, which she also signed for, though sprinting was not her strong point; and the long race, for which she had higher hopes. Then there was intermediate jumping, but she didn't sign for that. Madame Perceval had told her that she was good enough to jump without worry if ever there were a necessity or emergency, but the slight stiffness and weakness in her knee held her back more on the jumping than in anything else. So there was her name at the top of the intermediate lists, Philippa Hunter, 97, in careful, decisive lettering. She looked at her name and her stomach seemed to flop over inside of her.

But there isn't time to be scared, she thought. I'd better go out and ski.

When she came back in to get the mail the lists were pretty well filled up. Almost everybody in Flip's class was an intermediate. A few were in the beginners group and Solvei was a senior, but almost all the girls she knew best had signed under her name and none of them had failed to notice Philippa Hunter, 97, at the top of the list.

"But Flip, you don't ski!"

"Pill, did you know those lists were for the _ski_ meet?"

"Flip, you didn't _mean_ to sign up for the ski meet, did you?"

"Are you crazy, Philippa Hunter?"

She looked at their incredulous faces and suddenly she began to wonder if she really _could_ ski. "Yes, I did mean to sign up," she told them.

"But Flip, you can't ski!"

"Fräulein Hauser said you couldn't learn!"

"She said she couldn't teach you!"

"Pill, you must have gone mad!"

"I'm not mad," Flip said, standing with her back against the bulletin board while the girls crowded around her. "I'm not mad. I did mean to sign." She tried to move away but they pushed her back against the board.

Fräulein Hauser came over and said, "Girls!" Then she looked at Flip and said, "Philippa Hunter, I want to speak to you."

The girls moved away and Flip followed Fräulein Hauser up the stairs. Now that Madame Perceval was no longer at the school Fräulein Hauser had taken her place as second to Mlle. Dragonet and most popular of the teachers. But Flip still stung from the gym teacher's scorn and when she drew Fräulein Hauser's table at meals she did not regard it as a piece of good fortune.

Now Fräulein Hauser led her to the deserted class room and said, "What did you mean by signing up for three events in the ski meet?"

Flip looked stubbornly into Fräulein Hauser's determined, sun-tanned face. "I want to ski in them."

"Don't be ridiculous." Fräulein Hauser's voice was sharp and annoyance robbed her features of their usually pleasant expression. "You know you can't ski well enough to enter even the beginner's events, much less the intermediate."

"I've been practicing every morning after breakfast for an hour."

"I assure you, Philippa, that you are not a skier. You simply are not good at sports because of your bad knee and you might as well face it. You had better stick to your painting. I thought you were settling down nicely and I must say I don't understand this wild idea of yours in entering the ski meet. Now be a sensible girl and go downstairs and take your name off."

Now I shall have to explain, Flip thought, and started, "No, please, Fräulein Hauser, you see I really do want to enter the ski meet because--"

But Fräulein Hauser did not give her a chance to finish. "I'm sorry, Philippa. I haven't time to waste on this nonsense. Suppose you let me be the judge of whether or not you can ski well enough to enter the meet. Now go downstairs and cross your name off the list or I shall."

"But please, Fräulein Hauser--" Flip started.

Fräulein Hauser turned away without listening. "I'm sorry, Philippa," she said.

"But Fräulein Hauser, I _can_ ski!" Flip cried after her. But the gym teacher was already out of the room and didn't hear.

Flip waited long enough to give Fräulein Hauser time to get to the faculty room. Then she walked swiftly down the corridor before she had time to lose her nerve, and knocked on the door to Mlle. Dragonet's sitting room.

When Mlle. Dragonet's voice called out "Come in," she didn't know whether she was filled with relief or regret. She opened the door and slipped inside, shut it, and stood with her back to it as she had stood against the bulletin board downstairs.

Mlle. Dragonet was drinking coffee and going over some papers at a table in front of the fire; she looked up and said kindly, "Well, Philippa, what can I do for you?"

"Please, Mlle. Dragonet," Flip said desperately, "isn't it entirely up to the girls whether or not we enter the ski meet and what we sign up for? I mean, Erna told me you didn't have to be in it if you didn't want to, and if you did, you could sign up for anything and it was entirely your own responsibility what you thought you were good enough for."

"Yes. That's right." Mlle. Dragonet nodded and poured herself some more coffee out of a silver coffee pot.

"Well, Fräulein Hauser says I must take my name off the lists."

"Why does she say that?" Mlle. Dragonet dropped a saccharine tablet into her coffee and poured some hot milk into it as though it were the one thing in the world she was thinking of at the moment.

"Well, when we first started skiing she said I couldn't learn to ski and she couldn't teach me and I had to give it up. Then Madame Perceval found out my skis were too long and there was a pair some girl had left that fitted me and Madame and Paul have been teaching me to ski. I've practiced every morning after breakfast for an hour and during the Christmas hols we skied all the time and went on overnight skiing trips and things and Madame said I should enter the ski meet as an intermediate. But now Fräulein Hauser says I have to take my name off the list because she doesn't know I can ski."

"Why didn't you explain to Fräulein Hauser?" Mlle. Dragonet asked.

"I tried to, but she wouldn't listen. I don't think she knew I had anything to explain. And Madame Perceval said I shouldn't say anything about her helping me. She said I should say it was just Paul, and I don't think that would have convinced Fräulein Hauser, no matter how good a skier Paul is, because I was so _awful_ before. That's why I had to come to you, Mademoiselle."

Mlle. Dragonet picked up her pencil and twirled it. "So you've been keeping your skiing a secret?"

"Yes, Mlle. Dragonet."

"Whose idea was this?"

"Paul's. He thought it would be so much fun to surprise everybody."

"Was he coming to the ski meet?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"I can see," Mlle. Dragonet said, "how Paul would think it was fun to surprise everybody, and how you would think it was fun, too. But don't you think it's a little hard on Fräulein Hauser?" Her brown eyes looked mildly at Flip.

Flip countered with another question. "Don't you think Fräulein Hauser should have noticed that my skis were too long? I know she has so many beginners she can't pay too much attention to any one person, and I've always been bad at sports, but as soon as I got skis that were the right length for me I was better. I wasn't good but at least it was possible for me to learn."

"And you think you have learned?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle. And it was Madame Perceval who said I should enter as an intermediate. I haven't seen the others ski so I wouldn't have known in what group I belonged."

"So Madame Perceval taught you, did she?" Mlle. Dragonet asked. She put her pencil down and said, "Very well, Philippa. I'll speak to Fräulein Hauser and explain the situation. It's almost time for Call Over now. You'd better get down stairs."

"Thank you, Mlle. Dragonet. Thank you ever so much. And you won't say anything about its being Madame Perceval who found me the skis and helped me, please? Because she said it would be better not to, only I didn't think she'd mind if I told you under these--these--imperative circumstances."

Mlle. Dragonet smiled. "I won't say anything about her part in it. I promise."

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," Flip said. "I didn't want to but I didn't know what else to do. I was desperate."

"It's what I'm here for, Philippa," Mlle. Dragonet said.

As Flip left Mlle. Dragonet's sitting room and started down stairs she wondered how she could ever live through the hours until the ski meet. The two months since the Christmas holidays had flown by like a swift bird but the brief time until the next day stretched out ahead of her like an eternity.

Erna met her when she got downstairs. "You didn't get your mail, Flip. I took it for you."

"Oh, thanks ever so much," Flip said. "Oh, wonderful! It's a letter from father. Thanks lots, Erna."

There was just time to read the letter before Call Over if she hurried, and she was glad to escape the questions and exclamations of the girls who came clustering about her again, probing her about the ski meet, telling her that Fräulein Hauser had already crossed her name off the lists.

She ran down the corridor to the bathroom, locked herself in, and opened her father's letter.--I'm so glad it came today, she thought.--I need it to give me courage for tomorrow.

11

"My darling champion skier," the letter began. "How proud I am of the way you've worked at your skiing and I hope your triumph at the ski meet will be everything you and Paul could hope for. Now please don't be disappointed, darling--as a matter of fact maybe you'll be relieved--but I don't think I'll be able to make it for the ski meet. You'll probably do much better if you're not worrying about my being there and the spring holidays will be here before we know it."

She sat staring at the closed white bathroom door in front of her, with the paint chipped off in places. She was filled with completely disproportionate disappointment. When she heard someone pounding on the door and calling, "Flip! Flip!" she could not keep the unwelcome tears from her eyes.

"Flip! Flip!"

She forced the tears back and opened the door and Erna and Jackie were anxiously waiting for her.

"Flip!" Erna cried. "You missed Call Over and Hauser's simply furious and she wants to see you right away."

"She says you're sulking because she took your name off the ski lists. Oh, Flip, what _do_ you want to be in the ski meet for anyhow when you can't ski!"

"I _can_ ski," Flip said. "And I'm _not_ sulking because of the ski meet. Father said he could come and now he can't." The tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I haven't seen him since school began," she managed to whisper.

Erna patted her clumsily on the shoulder. "That's awful, Flip. That's an awful shame."

"Maybe he'll be able to come at the last minute," Jackie said. "Don't cry, Flip."

The door opened again and Fräulein Hauser, looking extremely annoyed, stood in the doorway.

"Really, Philippa Hunter!" she exclaimed. "I have seldom seen such a display of bad sportsmanship."

Flip drew herself up and suddenly she looked very tall and strong as she stood facing the gym teacher. "Fräulein Hauser," she said. "I did not skip Call Over because you took my name off the ski lists. I didn't even know you'd taken it off. I am crying because I expected to see my father and now I'm not going to."

Fräulein Hauser looked at the tear blurred face and the crumpled letter and at Erna and Jackie nodding in corroboration of Flip's words and said, more gently, "I'm sorry I misunderstood you, Philippa." And she smiled. "But you can hardly blame me."

"Please, Fräulein Hauser," Flip said. "I've been trying to tell you that I did learn to ski."

"Philippa, we settled that question this morning. Let's not reopen it." Fräulein Hauser's voice was short again. "Get along to your classroom, and quickly, all three of you. It's almost time for the bell."

12

At lunch time Flip's name was written in again over the heavy red line Fräulein Hauser had used to cross it out.

"Flip, you didn't put your name back!" Erna cried.

Flip shook her head desperately. "I didn't! It's not my writing! It's Fräulein Hauser's writing! Mlle. Dragonet gave me permission to be in the ski meet. Paul taught me how to ski." She put her hands to her head. "If I'd thought there'd be all this fuss and bother I'd never have entered the old ski meet!" Her head was a wild confusion of misery.

If I could just tell them it was Madame who taught me how to ski that would make it all right, she thought.

"Hey, Flip," Erna said. "If you don't want your pudding, I do."

After lunch Kaatje van Leyden sought her out. "Look here, Philippa, I hear you're entering the ski meet."

Flip looked up at the older girl. "Yes, Kaatje."

"Fräulein Hauser says you can't ski."

"If I couldn't ski I wouldn't have entered the ski meet," Flip said. Her mind was beginning to feel cold and numb the way her hands did in the very cold mornings when she was out skiing.

"Did you know that the points made or lost in the ski meet count for the school teams?" Kaatje asked. "You could make a team lose for the year if you pulled it down badly enough in the ski meet."

"I won't pull it down," Flip said, but she was beginning to lose faith in herself.

"Which team are you?"

"Odds. I'm number 97. Please, Kaatje. I promise you I can ski. I know I've pulled the Odds down in my gym work but I won't pull them down in the ski meet."

"But how did you learn to ski? Fräulein Hauser said you were so hopeless she couldn't teach you. Sorry, but that's what she said and the ski meet's tomorrow so there isn't time to beat around bushes."

"Please, Kaatje," Flip said, "Paul Laurens, Madame Perceval's nephew, taught me every week-end, and he's a wonderful skier, and we skied during the holidays all the time and I've practiced an hour every morning after breakfast. Please, Kaatje, please believe me!" Flip implored.

Kaatje put her hands on her hips and looked at Flip. "I don't know what to think. I'm captain of the Evens as well as School Games Captain and if the Evens win through your losing points the Odds are going to blame me for it."

"Do you think Mlle. Dragonet would have put my name back on the lists if she'd thought I couldn't ski?"

"That's just it," Kaatje said. "I wouldn't think so, but you never know what the Dragon's going to take it into her head to do. If she's given you permission and you insist that you can ski I suppose there's nothing I can do about it." Then her frown disappeared and she gave Flip a friendly grin. "Here's good luck on it anyhow," she said, holding out her hand.

"Thanks, Kaatje," Flip said, taking it.

13

It couldn't have been a better day for a ski meet. It was very cold and still and the sky was that wonderful blue that seems to go up, up, up, and the sun seemed very bright and very far away in the heavens. The snow sparkled with blinding brilliance and everybody was filled with excitement.

But Flip sat in the train on the way up to Gstaad and she felt as cold and white as the snow and not in the least sparkling. Paul left Georges Laurens with Mlle. Dragonet and Signorina del Rossi and came and sat next to Flip. Erna and Jackie and the others greeted him with pleased excitement. Flip heard Sally whispering to Esmée, "Didn't I tell you he was divine?"

"So you taught Flip to ski!" Solvei exclaimed.

"I didn't have to do much teaching," Paul said. "She's a born skier."

Esmée got up from her seat and stood by them, attracted to the male presence like the proverbial fly to honey. "I'm just dying to see Flip ski," she said, smiling provocatively at Paul. "You were just wonderful to teach her."

"Esmée, sit down," Miss Armstrong called from the end of the car, and Esmée reluctantly withdrew.

Flip stared out the window with a set face. Her cheeks felt burning hot and her hands felt icy cold and she had a dull pain in her stomach. I'm sick, she thought. I feel awful. I should have gone to Mlle. Duvoisine and she'd have taken my temperature and put me in the infirmary and I wouldn't have had to be in the ski meet.

But she realized that the horrible feeling wasn't because she was ill, but because she was frightened. She was even more frightened than she had been the night she went to meet the man who said he was Paul's father at the chateau.

She was hardly aware when Paul left her to join the spectators, or when Erna pushed her in place to wait until the beginners had finished. Flip watched the beginners carefully and took heart. She was much more steady on her skis, they were much more a part of her, than they were on any of the girls in the beginners group; and she knew that she executed her turns with far more precision and surety than any of them. She looked at the beginners and she looked at the judges, Fräulein Hauser, and Miss Redford who had turned out to be quite an expert skier, from the school; a jolly looking English woman who was sports mistress at the English school down the mountain; and two professional skiers who sat smiling tolerantly at the efforts of the beginners.

After the beginners had been tested for form they had a short race which was won by little Lischen Bechman, one of the smallest girls in the school and then Flip felt Erna pushing her forward. She stood in line with all the rest of the intermediates, between Erna and Maggie Campbell. One of the professional skiers stood up to give the directions. Flip snapped on her skis and pushed off with the others. She followed directions in a haze and was immeasurably grateful for the hours of practice which made her execute her christianas and telemarks with automatic perfection. The judge told half the girls to drop out, but Flip was among those left standing as the judge put them through their paces again.

Now all but five of the girls were sent to the side, Flip, Erna, Esmée Bodet, Maggie Campbell, and Bianca Colantuono. Flip's mouth felt very dry and the tip of her tongue stuck out between her teeth. This time the judge only kept them a few minutes.

Jumping was next and only a few of the intermediates had entered that. Girls clustered around Flip, exclaiming, laughing,

"Why, Flip, you old fox, you!"

"Why did you keep this up your sleeve, Pill?"

"Did Hauser _really_ refuse to teach you?"

And Kaatje van Leyden came over from the seniors and shook her hand saying, "Good work, Philippa. You really knew what you were talking about, didn't you? The Odds don't have to worry about _your_ being on their team."

Flip blushed with pleasure and looked down at the snow under her feet and she loved it so and was filled with such excitement and triumph that she wanted to get down on her knees and kiss it; but instead she watched the jumpers. She felt that Erna was by far the best and was pleased with the thought that she would win.

Then it was time for the Short Race. Flip stood poised at the top of the hill and launched herself forward at the signal. She tried to cut through the cold air with the swift precision of an arrow and was pleased when she came in fifth, because Madame had told her not to worry about the Short Race, to enter it only for experience, because she would do best in the Long Race.

While the seniors lined up for form, Flip and the other intermediates who had signed up for the Long Race got on the funicular to go up to the starting point further up the mountain. Madame Perceval had taken Flip over the course of the race several times during the holidays so she was almost as familiar with it as the other girls who had been skiing it once a week with Fräulein Hauser.

They were all tense as they lined up at the starting point. Kaatje van Leyden gave the signal and they were off. Flip felt a sense of wild exhilaration as she started down the mountain, and she knew that nothing else was like this. Flying in a plane could not give you this feeling of being the bird, of belief in your own personal wings.

Before the race was half over it became evident that it was to be between Flip, Erna, and Esmée. Flip's mind seemed to be cut cleanly in half; one half was filled with pure pleasure at the skiing and the other with a set determination to win this race. The three of them kept very close together, first one, then another, taking the advantage. Then, as they had to go through a clump of trees, Erna took the lead and pushed ahead with Flip next and Esmée dropping well behind.

Flip made a desperate effort and had just spurted ahead of Erna when she heard a cry, and, looking back, she saw Erna lying in the snow. She checked her speed, turned, and went back. As Erna saw her coming she called out, "Go on, Flip! Go on! Don't worry about me!"

But she ended on a groan and Flip continued back up the mountainside. Esmée flashed by without even looking at Erna; and Flip, as she slowly made her way up the snow, thought, I've lost the race.

But she knelt by Erna and said, "What happened?"

"Caught the tip of my ski on a piece of ice," Erna gasped. Her face was very white and her lips were blue with pain and cold. "You shouldn't have come back."

"Don't be silly," Flip said, and her voice sounded angry. "Is it your ankle?"

"Yes. I think I've busted it or something."

Flip unsnapped Erna's skis and took them off. Then she unlaced the boot of the injured ankle and gently pulled it off. "I don't think it's broken. I think it's a bad sprain."

"What's up?" Kaatje van Leyden who had been skiing down the mountain side with them drew up beside them.

"Erna's hurt her ankle," Flip said. "I think it's sprained."

Now more of the racers came in sight, but Kaatje waved them on. "Esmée's won but we might as well see who comes in second and third."

"Flip lost the race because of me," Erna told Kaatje. "She was way ahead of Esmée but when I fell she turned around and came back to me."

"And Esmée went on?" Kaatje asked. "Well, it's a good thing you came back and got Erna's boot off, Philippa, or we'd have had an awful time. Her foot's swelling like anything. Hurt badly, Erna?"

Erna, her teeth clenched, nodded.

"Philippa, if we make a chair with our hands do you think we can ski down together with Erna? It will be quite a job not to jolt her, but I think we'd better get her down to Duvoisine as soon as possible. How about it?" Kaatje asked.

"O.K.," Flip said.

Jackie, trailing gallantly down at the tail of the race, stopped in dismay at the sight of Erna lying on the ground, and helped her up onto Flip's and Kaatje's hands. Then they started slowly down the mountain. This was the most difficult skiing Flip had ever done, because she did not have her arms to help her balance herself and she and Kaatje had to ski as though they were one, making their turns and swerves in complete unison in order not to jolt Erna who was trying bravely not to cry out in pain. Jackie had skied on ahead and Mlle. Duvoisine was waiting for them with the doctor, and Erna was borne off to the chalet to be administered to. Flip looked almost as limp and white as Erna as she went to join the other intermediates who were eating sandwiches while they waited for the senior events to be finished.

So now it was all over. She thought she had done well in Form, but she had lost both races. She felt too tired, and too depressed now that her part in the long-waited-for meet was over, to be elated simply because she had skied well.

Just as Kaatje van Leyden came swooping down to win the seniors' Long Race, Jackie said, "Here's Erna," and Mlle. Duvoisine was pushing Erna, sitting on one chair, her bandaged foot in a green ski sock with a large hole in the toe, on another, across the snow to them. They all clustered about her.

"How are you, Erna?"

"Is it broken?"

"Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," Erna told them as Mlle. Duvoisine left her with them. "It's just a sprain. It hurts like blazes and I have to go to the infirmary when we get back to school but Duvoisine says I can stay for the prizes. Kaatje's up talking to the judges. They must be ready to begin. Give me a sandwich, somebody, quick."

Fräulein Hauser stood up in the judges' box and blew her whistle. On the table in front of her was a box with medals and the silver cup. Everybody stopped talking and waited.

"I want to say that I am proud of the way you all skied today," Fräulein Hauser told them. "I think that you put on a splendid and professional showing. And now I have a pleasant surprise for all of you. An old friend has consented to give out the awards, someone I know you will all be delighted to see. Suppose I let her speak for herself."

A cheer of welcome came from the girls as Madame Perceval detached herself from the spectators, walked across the snow, and climbed the steps to the judges' box.

"Percy!"

"Madame Perceval!"

"But I didn't _see_ her!"

"Percy! How super!"

Everyone was whispering in low and excited whispers. Then Madame Perceval held up her hand and there was silence. For the first few minutes Flip was so surprised that she did not hear a word Madame Perceval said, though she was vaguely aware of the girls laughing and applauding. Then she tried to listen.

"And now for the awards," Madame Perceval was saying. "I won't delay that exciting information a moment longer. I'm afraid my train was late so I didn't see any of the beginners' events, but I hear from all the judges that none of you can be called beginners any more and the three of you who have won medals have every right to be proud of yourselves."

I won't win anything, Flip thought as Madame Perceval gave out the medals, and Paul will be disappointed and Madame will think I didn't work....

"The judges feel unable to award a medal for Form to the intermediates as there was nothing to choose between Margaret Campbell, Philippa Hunter, and Erna Weber. But each of these girls will be given a Certificate of Merit. The medal for Intermediate Jumping goes to Erna Weber, who is at the moment a fallen hero on the field of battle. Erna, will you send someone up for your medal, please?"

Erna gave Jackie a shove.

"The medal for the Short Race goes to Esmée Bodet, with certificates to Margaret Campbell, second, and Bianca Colantuono, third. Esmée Bodet seems to be the speed demon of the intermediates; the medal for the Long Race goes to her, too...."

Now Flip began to look around the spectators, and then suddenly she saw her father standing between Paul and Monsieur Laurens and her heart gave a leap of joy. He _did_ get here! she thought happily. He _did_ come even if I didn't win!

"Hey, Flip," Erna gave her a poke. "Percy's giving out the cup. Listen."

Again Flip had missed half of Madame's words, but she turned away from her father and looked up at the speaker's platform.

"This cup stands for more than just excellence in skiing, or marked improvement," Madame Perceval was saying, "and I am happy that the judges were unanimous in their decision as to the girl who deserves it. I don't think there's any question in anybody's mind that this girl's improvement in skiing has been almost spectacular. But I think that you would all like to know that she lost a very good chance to win the Long Race by turning back to help a friend who had hurt herself, and then helped Kaatje van Leyden carry her down the mountain, a very difficult piece of skiing. The judges, especially those of us from the school who have watched her all winter, feel that she has tried harder, and accomplished more than any other girl in school." Madame Perceval paused for a moment; then she said, "It gives me great pleasure to award this cup to Philippa Hunter."

Erna and Jackie pushed her forward and all her long-legged clumsiness returned to her as she crossed the blazing expanse of snow between the girls and the judges' box. She tripped over a boot lace, fell to her knees, and got up, grinning, as everybody laughed and clapped. When Madame Perceval handed her the cup and stood there smiling down at her the storm of applause was so deafening that she knew they were glad she had won this most desired of all the awards, and that the applause was an honor as great as the cup itself. All the judges shook hands with her, and Fräulein Hauser said, rather awkwardly, "I seem to have made a big mistake, Philippa. I'm very glad."

Then the girls came clustering about her, shouting, "Well done, Flip! Good old Pill! Good for you, Philippa!" And she was laughing and blushing and stammering until she was swept off her feet and her father's arms were about her and he was exclaiming, "I'm proud of my girl!"

"Oh, father!" she cried. "You _did_ come!"

"I managed to get away at the last minute," he told her. "So Colette--Madame Perceval--and I came over together."

Then Flip felt herself caught in someone else's arms and Madame Perceval kissed her on both cheeks. "I knew you'd make us proud of you, my darling," she cried.

"Oh, Madame!" Flip said, and all she seemed to be able to say was "Oh."

14

She sat that night in front of the fire in the lodge, leaning back, her head against her father's knee, and watched the flames roar up the chimney, and a deep feeling of content like the warmth from the fire filled her whole body. Paul sat sprawled beside her, pulling patient Ariel's ear, and Colette Perceval sat on the sofa next to Philip Hunter. Monsieur Laurens had retreated into his study after dinner.

"I'm so happy," Flip said, "that I haven't room for one drop more. One drop more and I'll burst." She leaned back against him. Her body felt heavy and tired and comfortable and her stomach was full of Thérèse's onion soup and her heart was so full of happiness that she could feel it swelling inside her.

"Remember how you were going to be the prisoner of Chillon, Flippet?" her father asked.

"I remember," she said, and smiled because she felt so full of freedom, and she knew that the freedom was in herself, just as the prison had been. She stood up and said, "I'll be back in a minute," because the happiness in her chest had grown so big that she knew she had to go outside and let some of it escape into the night or she really would burst with it.

She pulled her coat off the peg in the hall and pushed into it as she opened the door and slipped outside. She looked down the mountain to the lake, and across the lake to the mountains, and above the mountains to the stars. The night was all about her, wild and cold and beautiful, and she let her happiness spread out into it, so that it became part of the night, part of the lake and the mountains and the stars.

Then she turned and Paul was standing in the doorway.

"I thought we ought to leave them alone," he said, glancing back at Flip's father and his Aunt Colette who were talking earnestly together.

"Paul, do you really think--" she asked.

He nodded. "Looks like it to me. Lets go for a walk, Flip."

He held out his hand and she took it. "Yes, Paul."

"Let's walk over to the Chateau," he suggested. "Its--it's sort of our place."

As they walked along together quietly hand in hand, the bells in all the nearby churches began to ring, calling and answering each other, and it seemed as though the clear night air was ringing.

Suddenly Paul cried out, and he sounded as happy as Flip felt. "Spring is going to be wonderful, Flip!"