Chapter XX: The Environs of Chelles.--Poucette.--Ami

"We're heading now as if we was going to Gournay," said the gardener, trotting in front of the two ladies; "this will help you to know the way when you want to go to walk in the neighborhood; and especially if you happen to feel like eating a _matelote_; for Gournay's famous for them, you know."

The peasant led them past the railroad station, which is on the road from Chelles to Gournay. Beyond the station they found themselves on a fine road bordered by tall poplars and enclosed by ditches filled with water, which prevented passers-by from walking in the fields on the other side of the ditches.

Both to the right and left the country was flat for some distance; it was a beautiful valley interspersed with coverts arranged for the express purpose of affording the game a place of rest and shelter.

"This is a very fine road," said Agathe, after they had been walking on it for ten minutes, "but it is too straight, too monotonous; I don't like roads where you never can tell whether you are going forward; is it like this very much longer?"

"No, mamzelle. Look; where you see that stone on the left, we make a turn, and then we shall have Gournay before us, and the view is more varied."

In fact, after turning to the left, they could see the Marne, whose placid green waters conceal many rocks dangerous to vessels and to bathers. The outlook was charming: on the left they saw a mill which reached boldly to the very centre of the river, supported by numerous piles. There were obstructions, too, to warn boatmen that they must not venture near, and that the passage was dangerous when it was not impossible. And the water, passing over these obstructions, formed cascades and waterfalls which gave life to the picture; while numerous little islands above the mill added still more to the charm of the landscape.

In another direction a tall hedge enclosed a park belonging to an estate called the _Maison Blanche_; then there were more pastures and fields and coverts.

"Ah! this is lovely!" exclaimed the girl, when she saw the river. "How pretty the water is, my dear! it makes a landscape beautiful instantly. I don't call those horrid ditches by the roadside water. We will come here often to walk, won't we, Honorine?"

"It's rather far from Chelles; however, we shall come here, no doubt."

"I intend to learn to fish, my dear; you must teach me the way."

"But I know no more about it than you do!"

"Never fear," said the peasant; "when you have a stout line, and when you've found out a place where there's fish, it goes all alone; but you'll have to buy a license though."

"What bridge is that ahead of us?"

"That bridge leads to Gournay, then to Noisy-le-Grand, then to Montfermeil, if you choose; but you have to pay to cross; it's a toll, a charge--I don't know what they call it; but it's a sou each. It seems that it cost three hundred thousand francs to build, and they want to get the money back; there's eighty years still that we've got to pay, but after that we can pass for nothing. As I don't like to put out a sou, I don't often cross; I'm waiting till it's free."

"Don't be afraid," said Honorine with a smile; "we will pay for you."

"Oh! it ain't worth while; we haven't got to cross the bridge to get to Guillot's field; it's to our left, on the bank of the river."

"But while we are here, I should be glad to know what there is on the other side of the bridge."

"Bless my soul! there's nothing but Gournay, a small village, a quiet little place that don't make much noise in the world. Bless me! there's only a hundred and twenty-five to a hundred and thirty people, at most, and you can guess it ain't likely to be as lively as Paris!"

"True; and if all the villages roundabout are as small, I understand why we have not met, or even seen, a single living being since we left Chelles. Doesn't it seem strange to you, Agathe, to walk for three-quarters of an hour in the country without meeting anyone?"

"Yes, my dear; but I have been fancying that I was walking on my own property, and that all the land in sight belonged to me."

"Indeed, one might well have that illusion. See: even on the river, although it is very beautiful, there is not a vessel in sight: no steamboats, no barges, no skiffs, no washerwomen, not even a single fisherman on the shore! It's as deserted as the surrounding country!"

"Oh! sometimes there's loads of wood go down the Marne; I've seen 'em!"

"Those must be noteworthy days."

"The trouble is, you see, the Marne's as sly as the devil; it has holes and lots of grass. You have to know it well to risk it in a boat; and better, to bathe in it."

"But I don't object to this solitude, this perfect quiet."

"And then, at Chelles it isn't like this; you meet people there."

"True; we met as many as three people on our way to that poor farmer's.--So we do not need to cross the bridge, you say?"

"No, madame, there's Guillot's field at our left."

"And the Tower," said Agathe; "why don't we see it from here?"

"Because we're in a hollow; but it's over yonder, behind Gournay, toward Noisy-le-Grand. You wait till you see all this six weeks from now; then the trees will be green and the shrubs in flower, and it'll be much brighter than it is now."

"You are right, Père Ledrux."

"Look, there's Guillot's field, and I see Poucette digging."

Poucette was a tall, strong girl, with the bronzed skin of those who work in the fields. But her round face was honest and good-humored, her black eyes met yours unflinchingly, albeit without the slightest touch of boldness in their expression; and when she smiled, as she did very frequently, she showed a double row of teeth whose whiteness formed a striking contrast to her brown skin.

A little girl of eleven or twelve, with the head of a boy, whose hair, cut _à la Titus_, presented the aspect of a hedgehog, was working by Poucette's side; it was Claudine, the farmer's oldest child.

The two villagers stopped their work to look at the two young women who were coming toward them. In a region where you may walk all day without meeting a cat, one may be forgiven for suspending work to stare at two stylishly dressed ladies.

"Look! that's Père Ledrux!" suddenly exclaimed Poucette.

"Yes, my girl, and I have brought two ladies who want to speak to you."

"To me, Père Ledrux? Bah! you're joking! We don't know any fine ladies."

"You're going to know some; don't I tell you that madame's come here for you--to take you with her? Well! what do you say to that?"

The young peasant flushed to the hair and seemed dumfounded.

Madame Dalmont walked toward her.

"Mademoiselle," she said, "I am looking for a young girl to enter my service; for my friend and I are coming to live at Chelles."

"These ladies have bought Monsieur Courtivaux's house; you know where it is."

"There are only two of us, my young friend here and myself; so that you will have only us to wait upon, and you will not have very severe mistresses to get along with. Tell me if you think that it will suit you to live with us. We have just seen your aunt, who thinks that you will do well to accept; but she leaves you entirely free to refuse the place if it does not please you."

"And you'll have your board and lodging and washing and they'll give you ten francs a month besides; that's not bad, eh?" said Père Ledrux.

Poucette's face became radiant.

"Oh! certainly the place does suit me!" she cried; "and I don't ask anything better than to take it. In the first place it'll be a relief to my uncle and aunt, who have to support me now; but if I earn money, I can help them in my turn, and that will make me very happy."

"I see that you are an excellent girl, my child; and if, as I hope, you serve me faithfully, I promise to increase your wages later."

"You are very kind, madame; I'll do my best. But, you see, I don't know many things, and if I've got to cook, I'm afraid I am not very clever."

"If you are willing, that is enough; I will show you, and you will soon learn."

"As for the will, madame will see that I have plenty of that."

"Well, then, it's a bargain. You accept, do you not? I may rely on you?"

"Certainly, madame, with great thankfulness!"

At that moment they heard a plaintive sort of groan soon followed by sobs. It was the little girl with the head like a hedgehog, crying like a baby.

"Dear, dear! what's the matter, Claudine?" inquired Poucette, turning toward the child, who replied between her sobs:

"You're going to go away from our house, and I shan't see you any more! I don't want Poucette to go away, I don't!"

This outburst of artless, sincere grief moved the two friends, who tried to pacify the little peasant by saying to her:

"Why, my child, you will still see Poucette; she isn't going to leave Chelles, for we are coming here to live. You can come to see her whenever you have time; we shall never prevent you; on the contrary, we shall be very glad when you come."

"Do you hear, Claudine? these ladies will let you come to see me, and you can help me when I clear up the garden!"

"The garden! oh! that's my business," muttered Ledrux; "you won't have anything to do with taking care of that; you don't know anything about it; a fine mess you'd make of it!"

The little girl looked at the two ladies and sighed. Agathe unfastened a velvet ribbon that she wore about her neck and placed it about the girl's, saying:

"See, this is to console you a little."

Instantly the child smiled through her tears and cried:

"Oh! look, Poucette! the lovely ribbon! see how pretty it is!"

"Yes, you see that these ladies are very kind to you already!"

"Pardi! if you give 'em gewgaws and finery," said the gardener, "you'll soon make friends with 'em."

"So much the better, Père Ledrux; that is what we want. I am sure that this child cares more for the bit of ribbon than for rabbits."

"Am I to go with you right away, madame?" said Poucette, dropping her spade.

"No, my child, not yet; we are going back to Paris for a few days. But when we return to Chelles for good, you must come to us at once."

"Shall you return soon, madame?"

"As soon as possible; I think that in a week we shall have done all that we have to do in Paris. But meanwhile I will give you your earnest money."

Honorine had taken from her pocket a dainty purse, and was about to open it, when an enormous dog suddenly appeared in the middle of the field and bounded toward Poucette, glancing with a most impertinent expression at all the other persons present.

"Look out! look out! that's the dog from the Tower!" cried Père Ledrux, retreating several steps.

"Yes, it's Ami," said Poucette; "oh! I ain't afraid of him, nor Claudine either; he knows us well and he ain't a bit ugly! Don't be afraid, mesdames, he won't hurt you."

The two friends gazed curiously at the dog, of whom they had already heard. Ami was of the Newfoundland breed, but seemed to have a trace of shepherd blood. His eyes indicated a degree of intelligence which many people deny to the Newfoundland, which, they claim, is good for nothing but to fish up a drowned man or save people from falling over a precipice, which, in our judgment, would be a sufficient proof of intelligence.--But in addition to these qualities, the dog from the Tower possessed all those of all other breeds; moreover, nature seemed to have endowed him with the gift of divination; for he would divine a given person's sentiments for his master, and his instinct never deceived him. He knew better than his master himself who were his friends and who his enemies. That extraordinary perspicacity--of which men are rarely possessed--proved that prodigies of intelligence may be found among dogs of the Newfoundland breed.

Generally speaking, there is no rule without an exception. Some people claim that men with low foreheads are deficient in wits, while a high forehead is the appanage of genius. We have known some very intellectual low foreheads, and some high ones behind which there was nothing but dense stupidity.

Ami was white, except for a few brown spots on his back, and one on top of his head. His tail ended in a large plume; his muzzle was broad, his ears of medium size, and his black eyes gleamed with extraordinary fire; they seemed to long to speak. He understood perfectly whatever was said to him and did whatever his master ordered, much better than most servants. Such was the dog that suddenly appeared in Guillot's field.

His appearance was so unexpected that Madame Dalmont, who was opening her purse at the moment, was unable to restrain a movement of alarm, and in that movement she dropped a two-franc piece from her purse. She had not discovered the loss when Ami picked the coin up with his teeth and placed it at her feet, as if to say:

"Take your money, which I have picked up for you."

"Oh! the beautiful dog!" cried Agathe; "see, dear, he picks up the coin you dropped and returns it to you!"

"That's so, on my word!" said Ledrux. "I tell you, everybody wouldn't be as honest as he is! But, I say, as the dog's here, the master can't be far off."

"No, no, Monsieur Paul isn't far away," said Poucette; "I see him coming over there toward the mill."

"The owner of the Tower? Oh! where is he? show him to us!" cried the two friends almost at once.

"I don't see but what you're almost as curious as Madame Droguet!" chuckled the gardener. "But never you fear; you'll see my gentleman, and near to at that, for he'll certainly pass here on his way home."

"Do you think he will pass by here?"

"Yes, madame," said Poucette; "Monsieur Paul is going across the bridge and home by way of Gournay. If he wasn't coming this way, his dog would have left us before this, sure."

The two friends looked toward the mill and saw a man wearing a cap with a long vizor and dressed in hunting costume, with a gun over his shoulder, walking rapidly along the bank of the river.

"I thought that hunting was prohibited now," said Honorine.

"Yes, madame," said Poucette; "but he don't hunt; he carries his gun as he would a cane. Nobody says anything to him for that, because he's well known all about here now, and everybody knows he ain't a poacher."

"He don't always carry his gun," said little Claudine. "Day before yesterday I met him by the Maison Rouge, and he didn't have anything in his hand but a stick."

"He's coming nearer; you can see his face now."

"None too well," said Agathe; "for my part, my dear, I can see nothing but his beard. Great heaven! what a beard! it's enough to frighten one!"

"Ami, there's your master; go after him.--Why, that's funny! he don't pay any attention to me; he seems to be all taken up with mamzelle!"

Ami, in fact, kept his eyes fixed on Agathe; he walked all about her as if to examine her on all sides, then returned to his place in front of her and gazed at her anew.

"Good dog! I have a good mind to pat you!" said Agathe; "for it seems as if you were inviting me to, and as if you would like it; but I don't quite dare to risk it, I might mistake your intentions."

"Oh! there's no danger, mamzelle," said Poucette; "it's plain enough that you've won Ami's heart! If he didn't like you, he'd growl so that you couldn't make a mistake; you can tell right away when he's in a bad humor.--Why, look! he's rubbing his head against you now! that's funny; I never saw him so friendly with anyone!"

"Perhaps mamzelle has something to eat about her," said the gardener slyly.

"No, Père Ledrux, I have nothing about me!" retorted Agathe; "and you slander this dog by suggesting that gluttony has anything to do with the friendly feeling he shows me.--Come, Ami, come; let me pat you; I am very glad to have made your acquaintance, for hereafter I shall know that I needn't be afraid of you."

As she spoke the girl patted the dog, who made no objection and wagged his tail in token of satisfaction.

Meanwhile his master approached, walking very fast and looking straight before him. But when he arrived at Guillot's field, he glanced aside and saw his dog surrounded by five persons; whereupon he immediately called him in a loud voice:

"Here, Ami, here! come at once!"

The noble beast, obedient to his master's voice, turned his back on the little group; but as he trotted away he turned several times and looked back at Agathe.

His master had reached the bridge and was almost across, when the dog stopped in the middle, turned toward Agathe and began to bark loudly, as if to send her a last adieu.

"That's funny! that's funny!" exclaimed Poucette; "that the dog from the Tower should take such a liking to mamzelle right off."

"Dear me! we shall miss the train!" said Honorine; "it goes at four o'clock; doesn't it, Père Ledrux?"

"Yes, madame, but it ain't that yet."

"But we have to go back to the station, and it's some distance. Here, my child, take these three francs; it's your earnest money."

"Oh! madame is too kind! Look, Claudine, she gave me three francs!"

Little Claudine was engrossed by the velvet ribbon that had been placed about her neck.

"Now let us go, Agathe.--Good-bye, Poucette; we shall see you soon."

"I will be ready when madame comes."

"Very good; au revoir."

"Good-bye, Claudine."

The little hedgehog-headed one smiled, but could not find a word to say in reply; her ribbon absorbed all her faculties.

The two friends hurried off to the station; and as the gardener left them he said:

"Now it's all settled, I may as well take the rabbits away; that will relieve you just so much."

"Yes, yes, Père Ledrux, take the rabbits."

"As for the hens--why, you can see about them later."

"I have already said that we would keep the hens."

"I know; but if you should ever change your mind--however, it will be time enough then."

Honorine and Agathe took the train, the former still thinking of the savage aspect of the owner of the Tower; the other recalling with pleasure Ami's caresses.