MADAME LA COMTESSE
It was five years after my marriage, or to be correct, in May of the
year nineteen hundred and seven, that Dolores and I, leaving our three
dear little children in the manor house on the shores of the Solent
whilst we took a flying trip to Switzerland, found ourselves one
heavenly spring morning standing on the balcony of the great hotel at
Lucerne which is built on the very edge of the blue lake.
"Well, where shall we go to-day, darling?" I asked my little wife as I
slipped one hand round her waist and took the cigar from between my
lips with the other; "shall we ascend grim Pilatus, or cog-wheel it up
the Rigi and have lunch at the little hotel at the top, or shall we
idle away the day in a boat on the lake? What say you, little one?"
An old German passing below with his hand behind his back, feeling his
way gingerly along on gouty feet with the aid of a stick, looked up,
smiled, and shook his head at us. He took us for a newly married
couple!
When the laughter provoked by this little interlude had subsided, I
once more put the question to Dolores.
"Where shall we go to-day?"
"Darling," she answered, "I'm entirely for the lazy day on the lake. I
want to be idle."
So the lazy day on the lake it was.
A small hamper containing a cold chicken, some ham, a salad, with other
accessories for lunch, and the added luxury of a gipsy tea-set, having
been duly put into a boat, we followed it, and taking our seats, were
met with the following query of the boatman, who sat looking at us, his
two oars poised ready for work--
"Where will you go?"
We exchanged a significant glance, then gave voice simultaneously to
the thought which was in both our minds.
"Anywhere."
The boatman nodded sagaciously; here again he even--the
experienced--was deceived into believing that he had charge of a pair
who had recently sworn to keep each other warm for life.
Had he been asked for his opinion concerning us, his reply expressed in
his native tongue would have been briefly--
"Honey mooners!"
As I had reason to believe, after finding that we were perfectly
indifferent as to where we went, he decided to have a little trip to
suit his own convenience. He would go and see his sister at the
Convent of The Nativity up the lake.
He continued sagely nodding his head as he rowed us away, and in reply
to a question of mine as to what direction he had decided on, winked
confidentially.
"Monsieur et madame," he replied, "leave it to me. You will have a
great surprise."
We did, but not in the way he intended.
On the dark face of the boatman as he worked steadily up the lake I saw
both perplexity and concern; first, although I held Dolores' hand, as I
usually did on such occasions when we were alone--or nearly so, for the
Swiss oarsman counted for little--yet the man saw no yearning desire on
my part to _kiss_ her, as was the case with most husbands in the early
days of the _lune de miel_.
Several times I noticed that he gave me opportunity by turning round
and straining his neck to see imaginary obstacles in the way for the
fulfilment of this custom, which, to his surprise, I did not avail
myself of. There were no blushes, no abrupt separations, and no
assumed looks of unconcern when he turned round again.
The situation was a puzzling one. But there was a pale cast of thought
over his features in addition, which I only knew the reason for later
on. He was puzzling his brains to find an excuse for taking us to the
very plain looking convent up the lake which, although beautifully
situated, yet presented no extraordinary attractions beyond a well
ordered and ancient garden, laid out in terraces on the side of one of
the lower slopes of the mountains, and, of course, the beautiful view.
Therefore when, at that curve in the lake when the Rigi comes into
fullest view, a smile of satisfaction overspread the boatman's face, I
knew, after, that he had solved the difficulty and found the excuse for
taking us to such a very ordinary resort.
"I will show these simple English people," he had reasoned, "the
long-haired goats. I will make a _spécialité_ of these animals for the
delectation of this cold-blooded bride and bridegroom, who do not kiss
when I turn round to observe the prospect."
In the course of an hour and a half we arrived off a white terrace-like
landing place with a flight of steps leading down to the lake.
All questions as to our destination had been answered by the boatman
with mysterious nods and winks, giving promise of a stupendous surprise
in store. His object was to get us safely on shore before he opened
the subject of the hairy goats, lest we should, insular like, change
our minds and not give him the opportunity of visiting his sister. The
boat shot alongside the steps, the man sprang out and assisted us to
land; a nun who had been working in the garden came down and met us.
"_Ma soeur_," explained our boatman, "this English milor and his lady
have a great desire to see your most splendid goats!"
The good sister looked surprised, an expression which Dolores and I
shared with her, mingled with amusement. We had, however, no
particular objection to inspecting her goats, notwithstanding.
"Our Mother," she replied amiably, "I am sure, will be pleased to show
monsieur and madame the goats if it will give them any gratification."
She preceded us through the beautifully kept kitchen garden, and up a
flight of steps to another above, each foot of the productive soil
being used to advantage, as we saw by the abundance of the crops reared
on the sunny slope.
We mounted up from garden to garden until we came to a large terrace
full of flowers, which surrounded the conventual buildings and
commanded a magnificent view of the lake.
Here the sister left us.
"Will monsieur and madame divert themselves here," she asked, "while I
go fetch our Mother?"
Delighted with the beautiful surroundings and the glorious stretch of
blue water below us, Dolores and I were quite content to enjoy the
lovely scene by ourselves; our boatman had long since slunk off down a
side alley to find his relative the lay sister.
We had walked half the length of the broad terrace absorbed in the
view, when, turning from it, we became aware that we were not alone.
At the farther end of the terrace was an old lady sitting in an
invalid's chair, also enjoying the beautiful prospect. By her side sat
a nun on a garden chair, holding a large white sunshade over her; the
sun was very hot. Not wishing to disturb her privacy, we turned back
and met the Reverend Mother approaching with our conductress.
She was amiability itself. Certainly she would show monsieur and
madame the goats. She was unaware that they had become so celebrated.
Perhaps monsieur and madame kept goats in England?
"No; you have come only by the recommendation of the boatman, Fritz
Killner?" she asked. "No doubt he wished to give you the diversion of
the long passage in the boat."
I saw a look of amused intelligence pass over the Reverend Mother's
face; she had divined the object of the boatman's visit. In fact, she
frankly told us later--when we had seen the goats--that he had a sister
in the community, and thus let the cat out of the bag.
We were not by any means petrified with astonishment at the goats; they
seemed very ordinary animals, but with very long white coats. I had
seen better in a goat chaise at Ramsgate.
But we had, at the Reverend Mother's solicitation, to make the tour of
the convent.
We inspected the cows, the pigs, the orchard and a very respectable
range of glass houses.
Then we went to the chapel, and finally to the refectory; here the
hospitality of the white-clad order burst forth; we must have
_déjeuner_.
The good Superior waved aside the mention of our cold fowl, and
insisted on cutlets and an omelette. Meanwhile, we were to walk with
her upon the terrace to improve our appetite--we were simply ravenous
already.
"I have brought you to the terrace, monsieur and madam," proceeded the
nun, "not only to admire the fine view and increase your appetites, but
also to present you to Madame la Comtesse."
"Madame la Comtesse?" I repeated inquiringly.
She indicated the old white-haired lady sitting at the farther end of
the terrace.
"That is Madame la Comtesse, the founder of this religious house," she
explained. "She delights to see English visitors. She adores your
nation. Come, let us go to her, but I ask you to approach quite near
her, or she will not see you clearly. She is shortsighted."
Walking one on either hand of the Reverend Mother, we approached Madame
la Comtesse.
The attendant nun had fixed the large white sunshade in a socket in the
invalid chair; she was writing at the old lady's dictation. We came
quite near before the Comtesse heard us approaching. Then she turned
her head and looked at us, her kind old features breaking into a very
sweet smile; her glance wandered from the Mother Superior to Dolores,
then to me; there it stopped.
A little more frail, a little paler, yet with a bright colour in her
cheeks, her still clear eyes gazing up to mine with an alarmed look in
them; I knew her.
From the very first moment that she moved in her chair and turned to
us; from the instant that that movement of her head disarranged the
silk scarf which was wrapped round her throat, and laying it bare,
showed a broad red scar upon it, _I knew her_; knew her for my dear old
lady of Monmouth Street, Bath, at whose bidding I had crossed the
Atlantic and endured many perils. I knew her, and as I gazed upon her
her lips moved and formed two words--
"Mr. Anstruther!"