ON ACCOUNT OF STRAWBERRIES.
The tea-table was set on the lawn where the lengthening shadows
inscribed themselves map-wise in islands and peninsulas of coolness;
and within the opened windows on the verandah were other refreshments,
whither the gentlemen were invited to bend their steps, while the
ladies with their ices remained out of doors. Muriel looking up, saw
Pierre disappearing among the bushes along the approach.
"Auntie," she whispered to Matilda, "give me a big heaped-up plate of
strawberries and ice-cream for poor Pierre. See, there he goes away
home, all by himself. How lonely he must feel! and hot, and thirsty,
to see us all sitting out here eating nice things. Quick! Tilly, dear,
or he will be through the gate, and at his own door before I can catch
him; and then I may meet Annette, who is never nice to me. I don't
like Annette."
The plate was speedily filled and heaped up, and away she ran.
To Pierre, trudging along the gravel in his heavy boots, the light
footsteps in pursuit were inaudible; and it was not till passing the
gate, he stopped to close it behind him, that he heard his name
called, and looking up, saw Muriel running towards him. Of course he
stopped, and of course, too, being French, and a civil lad, he pulled
off his cap and waited. An English lad would probably have turned back
to meet the young mistress; but Pierre was apt to grow confused when
Muriel appeared suddenly, she was so airy and different from his own
heavy lumbering self. So there he stood, stock still like Jack
stepping off his bean-stalk, when the fairy tripping down the meadow
from the giant's castle, accosted him.
"Here, Pierre, I have brought you these. I wish I had seen you to give
them sooner. You could have eaten them in the garden then, which would
have been nicer."
"Oh! mademoiselle ees too kind," mumbled Pierre, reddening to the
roots of his hair and looking sheepishly grateful. "Too moosh of
trouble to give mademoiselle," and the burning black eyes looked out
from under their lashes as if they would have spoken things forbidden
to the stammering tongue. But there came a shrill call up the road
just then, "Pier-r-re!" which quenched their lustre in a moment, and
brought a faint frown of impatience even to Muriel's sunny brow.
"Your mother is calling you, Pierre. Good night. _Bon appétit_.
"Ah! _coquin!_ What is it thou dost there?" was the greeting which met
him as he drew near, from his mother standing in the road before the
door. "_Cochon! Bête!_ And thou lingerest at the gate with the
_donzelle_, forsooth. Thou!--Deny it not! Undutiful! And I have beaten
thee for it when thou wert small, till my poor heart ached more than
the bruises on thy little skin. And still thou wilt persist. I pray
the heavenly queen upon my knees, and all the saints, to let thee die
sooner than come to love her. 'Twere mortal sin."
"My mother? Calm yourself It was only that the demoiselle ran after me
to give this plate of fruit. Will you not taste it?"
"Taste gift of hers? _Enfante fausse!_" and she pushed aside the
offered strawberries which rolled plentifully from the plate and were
scattered on the ground.
"Ah, no, my mother! Not false! The youngest angel in heaven is not
more true and good than Mademoiselle Muriel. But you will not think
so--I remind me often how you beat me for her sake. Beat me again, my
mother, if so it please you; but she is good and very beautiful."
"_Sacr-ré!_" she ground out from between her clenched teeth, with
flashing eyes glancing up and down the road; and then she started with
a sob of afright, and a tremor ran through her frame as she composed
herself to speak quite calmly. "I see thy father coming home. He must
not know of what we have spoken, if thou would'st have thy mother's
blessing when I die. Pick up thy berries. It was a heedless gesture of
my arm which upset them. Thou can'st say so much." And she went
indoors, leaving Pierre in bewilderment to gather the fruit.
That his mother, so gentle and fond, so sober, industrious and
sensible, should break out like one beside herself, if their ladies'
niece were but named, was unaccountable. A mystery, and one he dared
not even try to solve. She had threatened to curse him if he did but
inquire. And yet it was only before himself that she betrayed her
feeling. In his father's presence she showed no sign, but would
discuss the niece of their mistresses with him with the same composure
as their horses, sheep or cattle. And yet mademoiseile was so sweet!
And as he thought of her the bewilderment vanished in his mind like
mist before the morning sun, and he forgot even to pick up his
strawberries scattered around, while he knelt on the threshold.
"Heh, Pierre! On thy knees before sundown? Will the rosary not keep
till bedtime?" said Jean, the father, stepping past him into the
house.
"I am picking up some strawberries I let fall just now. Mademoiselle
Muriel brought me them as I went home."
"She is an angel of considerateness and kindness--never forgets the
poor for the sake of the rich--just like monsieur the general, her
grandfather, if so please the ladies, and the demoiselles his
daughters. A family most generous, even if they are not French and
good Catholics;" and he crammed half-a-dozen large strawberries into
his mouth at once, and gave them a crunch as though to drink the
family's health in a bumper of strawberry wine.
Annette looked up from the baby she was nursing, and there was a gleam
of red and smothered fire lurking in her eye, and she set her teeth
tight to hold back the struggling wish that the girl's gift might
choke him; while sire and son seated themselves on the door-sill to
consume the collation, the elder, at least, utterly unconscious that
aught was amiss.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 1: All right. First used by an auditor of accounts in
Kentucky, who it was believed meant the letters to stand for Oll Kreck
(all correct).]
END OF VOL I.