She dropped the glasses in their case, folded the daintily gloved hands
upon the rail, and for several moments gazed in silence at the coast in
front. Her face, in repose, became somewhat sadder, and now there was a
moisture in the eyes.
"Tell me again, Jacques, just how long it is since you were here?"
"Eight months."
"Much can happen in eight months."
"Yes, without doubt, but then it is to be remembered that when I was
here last, in the month of September--all went well."
"You did not see him yourself, however."
"No, my broken ankle kept me aboard, but those who went ashore with the
provisions brought a good report."
"But they did not _see_ him."
"No, for he was away, probably on one of his hunting trips. But why
disquiet yourself, Princess? We see the smoke rising from the chimney."
"Yes, it is true. You have reason."
When, at last, they arrived, the Princess was one of the first to land,
and she hastened up the narrow path to the grove above. Although in
haste to greet her father, she paused among the big trees to inhale the
piney fragrance. With a smile of rapture she gazed upward and about.
These old friends! How unchanged! And how many years they carried her
back! As a very little girl her imagination had revelled without
restraint and, to her heart's desire, in this enchanted grove. And now
she was listening to the old-time murmurings, high above--the same
plaintive whispering--the familiar voices, never to be forgotten--that
told her everything a little girl could wish to hear, and whenever she
cared to hear it.
But she lingered for a moment only. With eager steps she hurried toward
the cottage--picturing to herself an old gentleman's amazement when he
recognized his visitor.
The door was open. She stood upon the threshold and looked in--and
listened. No sound came to her ears except from the old clock behind the
door. How familiar this solemn warning of the passing time! It seemed a
part of her youth, left behind and suddenly found again. But her heart
was beating many times faster than the stately ticking of this
passionless machine. Silently she entered and stood beside the table.
She saw the hangings, the pictures, the busts, the furniture, precisely
as she had known them, years ago.
From behind the tapestry came a sound, faintly, as of some one moving.
She smiled and there was a quivering of the lips. Then, in a low but
clear voice, she said:
"_Petit pere_"
[Illustration]