kind neighbors took their turns night and day to care for the poor invalid.
Teresa brought from home pillows and blankets, and had a good hot fire
always going in the grate. Dr. Lebon was called immediately, but it was too
late; he could only make her last hours more comfortable. A few days later
she died in Teresa's arms. A beautiful smile on the yellow wrinkled face
gave it a happy expression that had never been seen there before.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A TREASURE RESTORED
Our birthdays generally passed without celebration, either in the form of
presents or parties, principally because my father disliked holiday
festivities, as they seemed to bring back to him more bitterly the loss of
her who could no longer share their joy with him. On New Year's Day,
however, he always gave a little gift to each one of us. It was our custom
to write him in turn "A Happy New Year" letter.
Louis would always come from school to visit us during his New Year's
holidays, and we had quite a number of visitors who bored us dreadfully.
For me it was a time of good resolutions, and I would go to Teresa and say
invariably as I embraced her, "I wish you a very happy New Year, Teresa.
Will you please forgive me for all the trouble I have caused you this past
year? And this new year, I am going to be very good." Unfortunately Teresa
never saw any change.
As Christmas-time drew near, Paula questioned me as to how we celebrated
that day.
"We don't celebrate it," I said.
"Oh, Lisita, is that true? You do nothing special on that day?" questioned
my poor cousin surprised.
"No, Christmas with us is not nearly so important as the New Year. Oh, yes;
I generally have to put on my Sunday dress, and then I can't play, for
Teresa is afraid I'll soil it."
"Oh," said Paula whose great eyes seemed to contemplate an invisible
splendor. "In my country we always had a Christmas-tree, and celebrated the
birth of the Lord Jesus."
"Tell me about it," I said, "I have heard about these Christmas
celebrations, but have never seen any."
"Well," said Paula, "sit down here, close to the fire, and I'll tell you
what we did last year. Four of our men went to the mountains and cut down a
beautiful pine tree. They had to go up to their waists in snow, and what a
job it was to bring it all the way down to Villar. But they were all very
strong. My father was one of them. They dragged the tree into the church
because there wouldn't have been room for everybody in the little
school-house. We all helped to decorate it with gold and silver nuts, and
we hung apples and oranges everywhere on its branches. But the beautiful
part were the candles. There were hundreds of them in blue, green, red,
white and yellow. If you could only have seen how beautiful it was, Lisita,
when the candles were lit, especially when they crowned the top of the tree
with a lovely white angel. We sang the wonderful Christmas hymns. Then the
pastor gave us a fine talk about the Saviour. At the close, each of us
children was given an apple, an orange, a little bag of sweets, and a
beautiful little book."
"Oh," said I, "how happy I should be if father would let us go to see it
all. It must be a beautiful country!"
"It is the most beautiful in the world," Paula assured me, her eyes
sparkling.
"We too shall go and live there when we grow up; shall we not, Paula?"
"Yes, indeed, Lisita."
"You know, Paula, father always gives us a New Year's present," as I saw
tears come into Paula's eyes as she thought of her old home. "What would
you like to have if you could choose?"
"There's just one thing I want," said Paula, "and that's my little Bible."
"But that wouldn't be a present," I said.
"No, but it would give me more pleasure than any present," sighed Paula.
* * * * *
New Year's Day dawned with splendid weather. It had snowed during the night
and the whole countryside was dressed in white. The sparrows flew back and
forth under our windows, seemingly remembering our custom to scatter crumbs
for them on such an occasion. Of course, we soon satisfied their hunger.
In the dining-room a huge fire burned, and Teresa with Rosa's help prepared
the New Year's breakfast. Paula helped Catalina to dress, for Catalina,
contrary to her custom, decided to breakfast with us, although against
Teresa's advice, for she feared such early rising would tire her too much
for the rest of the day.
"Yes, but I wish to be on hand when father distributes his New Year gifts,"
our invalid said. So Teresa had to yield.
Our father was late in coming so Paula ran to tell him that breakfast was
ready, and soon back she came with her hand in his, with that affecting
grace that was so habitual to her.
When he had received our "Happy New Years" father asked us if we wanted the
presents before or after breakfast.
"Before! Before!" we all cried.
"Very well," he said, "I have tried to satisfy everybody's taste, so I
trust everybody will be contented. Here, Paula, this little package is for
you. Catalina assured me that this would give you more pleasure than
anything else."
Paula took the package and turned it over and over.
"It is a book," she said in a voice that was none too steady.
"Do you think so?" said Catalina with a smile. "In that case hurry up, and
show us."
"Hurry up," cried Louis, handing her his jack-knife. "Cut the string and
open the package. We want to see what it is."
She obeyed, a bit confused to see all eyes fixed upon her. Inside she found
a little black book with a much-used cover.
She raised her eyes in gratitude to father and tried to thank him, but
could not find a word to say. Eagerly her fingers turned the precious
pages. Suddenly out fell a five-franc-piece.
"There, there," said my father, as she tried to express her thanks, "I am
more than satisfied, if I have made you happy."
"Happy!" said Paula, "I am more than happy!" She took her beloved Book, and
as she turned its pages she found still other treasures--a few faded
flowers which to my mind appeared to have no value whatsoever, and yet I
could see that they seemed to call up once more the precious memories of
her past life in that far-off Waldensian Valley.
"Dear uncle," said Paula, "Did you read the Book?"
"Yes, I read part of it, but if I have returned it to you today, it is not
because I have finished reading it, nor is it because Catalina has begged
me to return it to you. It is because you have obliged me to read another
book."
"I, uncle? What book can that be?"
"Yes, it may seem strange to you, but you see, you have lived among us in
such a way that I am to confess that I wish that my three daughters would
imitate your manner of living. You have made me comprehend the love that
your Bible speaks of, and of which Christ gave us an example, and which He
apparently has put into your life, and so I give back your Bible to you
with all my heart."
One can imagine our feelings as we listened to this strange discourse from
the lips of him who only a short time before had been so opposed to such
things!
"And then, Paula, I have something more to say," said my father. "Do you
remember the day when I hit you on the head with your Bible as I took it
away from you? I wish to say that I am sorry beyond expression for what I
did that day;--and now have you pardoned me, little daughter?"
For reply Paula took my father's hands in hers, then in a flood of
generosity and forgetfulness of self she gave her Bible back to him, simply
saying, "I give it back to you, dearest uncle!"
"You give it back to me!" said my father, stupefied, "You give me back the
Bible you loved so much!" "Yes," answered Paula, "because Teresa has
promised to give me another."
"But do you mean to tell me that you would care for a new Bible as much as
this one?"
"Oh, no," she said, "Father gave me that one, and it's full of his
markings, and it was in that Bible that I learned to love the Lord Jesus."
"And then--?"
"Well, it's because it is the most precious thing that I have in all the
world that I give it to you. Because you see I love you so, and I would
wish ... Oh, how I do wish that you could learn to know Him too."
"My poor dear child," said my father, "I cannot accept your sacrifice, but
I shall always remember your thought of me; and in the meantime, if you
like, we can go and buy another Bible like yours that I, too, may read it.
How will that do?" At this Paula clapped her hands in delight, as she said,
"Indeed, that will be wonderful!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SCHOOL-TEACHER AND HER BROTHER
"Lisita," said Paula to me one day on returning from school, "Mlle. Virtud
was not in class this morning."
"That's all the same to me," I said with indifference, "except that if I
had known that, I would have gone to school anyway in spite of my
chilblains."
"Do they still hurt you so badly," Paula asked.
"Yes, quite a bit; but not so badly as yesterday, and it bores me terribly
to stay at home alone. You see, Teresa makes me clean the spinach, and
Catalina gives me a basketful of stockings to darn, and I think I'd rather
go to school, especially if there is anything the matter with the teacher,
even though my feet hurt worse than a toothache. Do you ever have
chilblains?"
"No, I don't think I ever had them."
"Well," I said, "I always seem to be the one that gets something--something
that's bad and horrible."
"I think that Mlle. Virtud is sick," continued Paula.
"You're always thinking of that woman. I tell you, it doesn't make any
difference to me what happens to her," I said impatiently.
"Oh, Lisita, aren't you ashamed to say such a thing?"
"No," I said, "How do you expect me to like her? No matter what I do in the
class she punishes me for the slightest thing; and not only do I suffer in
class, but I get twenty-five lines to copy after school, so that I have no
time to play with the rest of them. How I do detest that woman!"
"Of whom were you speaking?" asked Teresa, who appeared at that moment.
"Of the school-teacher, Mlle. Virtud."
"I have a good mind to box your ears," cried Teresa indignantly. "You
detest such a fine young lady who works in your behalf."
"Oh, Teresa, don't be angry," I said. "You have no idea how she makes me
suffer. When you were little you never went to school, so you do not
understand. Now, listen--instead of keeping the bad children after school,
she sends us all home with twenty to fifty lines to copy, while she goes
calmly back to her house. The other teachers keep the bad ones there for
ten minutes or so, and that's all there is to it, which is a whole lot more
agreeable."
"Mlle. Virtud is absolutely right, for she makes the punishment fit the
crime."
"No, it isn't that," I answered in a rage; "It's because she doesn't want
to stay in school like the other teachers, the selfish thing! Here I am
right now with lines which were given last Monday, and I'm not going to do
them. She can say what she pleases!"
Paula, whose tender heart would have loved to have been on my side and also
on that of Mlle. Virtud at the same time, suggested that perhaps she had
someone who was ill in the house.
"She," I cried, "Mile. Virtud! Who do you think would ever have such a
disagreeable thing in the house with them! Besides, she has told us that
her family live far away in the country."
"I don't know," said Paula; "but do you remember the day when we saw her
carrying flowers back home with her. I dare say it was for somebody."
"Perhaps," I answered indifferently.
That afternoon Teresa permitted me to go to school, and there I found the
teacher of the Third Year in charge of our class. She was a beautiful woman
with lovely golden hair and blue eyes, and pink-and-white cheeks that
reminded one of a wax doll. "Ah," said I to myself, "how I wish I was in
the Third Year to have such a beautiful teacher always in front of me!" She
read to us and told us stories almost all the afternoon, and never punished
anybody, and on coming out of school her two little brothers ran to embrace
her affectionately. "Hurry up, dear sister," said one of them, "Mama is
waiting for us on the porch."
"My! How beautiful she is," I murmured to myself. "How I do love her! Mlle.
Virtud would never be so gentle with her little brothers, if she ever had
any." Then suddenly I stopped, for it seemed to me that I heard Paula
saying to me sadly, "Are you not ashamed of yourself, Lisita?" And I looked
up to see Paula exchanging a few words with a poorly-dressed child just
before she joined me. "Lisita, it is true," Paula said, "Mademoiselle
Virtud is quite ill; she tried to get up this morning and wasn't able to
raise her head. Victoria, the little girl who was speaking to me just now,
knows her very well; in fact, she lives in the same courtyard."
"Who is taking care of her?" I said.
"No one, as far as I can find out. Do you think Teresa would let us go to
see her?"
"No, I am sure she wouldn't, and for one thing, I'd never go. I haven't
done my fifty lines."
"Oh, but see; I'll help you do your fifty lines right now."
"Oh, but that wouldn't be square."
Paula laughed, "You generally haven't such a delicate conscience. You know
very well that half of the time Rosa does your lines for you."
"Oh, Paula, I swear to you--"
"No, don't do anything of the kind. It's useless, for I've seen it myself,
and I'm sure teacher would say nothing if I were to help you in order that
we should both be able to see her. I'm sure she would be so delighted,
Lisita. When my father was so ill, all his pupils came to see him, and he
was so happy."
"Your father wasn't like Mlle. Virtud though. Never! Never! I'll never go
to see her."
"The Lord Jesus said that when we go to see the sick it is as if we visited
Him. Wouldn't you care to go for love of Him, Lisita?"
"Well, we'll talk about that tomorrow," I answered, not daring to refuse on
such grounds, and not caring to promise anything either.
Teresa gave her permission, and promised herself to visit the sick one at
the very first opportunity. Paula wrote exactly half of my fifty lines, and
in order to do so she sacrificed her playtime that afternoon because she
wrote so slowly. I performed my twenty-five without further murmuring, and,
exacting a promise from Paula that she would go in first, I decided to
accompany my cousin on her visit to the teacher.
"Take this," Teresa said to us at the last moment. "It's just a little
chocolate for the sick one, for there is nothing better to fortify her
strength."
"Oh, many thanks," said Paula. "You think of everything. By the way I've
got four cents; what do you think we could buy with them?" Teresa reflected
a minute. "Get some oranges, and see that they are good and ripe. Don't
stay late, for the days are getting short, and it gets terribly cold when
the sun goes down."
Paula herself suddenly became very timid as we entered the Rue Blanche and
asked a young girl where Mlle. Virtud lived.
"Ah, you are looking for Mademoiselle," said a childish voice.
"It's you, Victoria," Paula cried, "I'm so glad to find you here. Yes, we
are looking for Mlle. Virtud."
"Come along, then," said Victoria as she blew on her hands that were purple
with the cold, "I'll take you to her door." She took us up four flights of
stairs when at last we came to Mlle Virtud's apartment. "Here you are,"
said our little guide, and downstairs she went. I started to follow her on
down. "Oh, Lisita," cried Paula; "remember your promise."
"Well, why don't you knock?" I said, rather wickedly, as I saw that Paula
was having trouble to muster up her courage.
"I don't know what's the matter with me; I can't seem to do it."
In a sudden spirit of mischief I suddenly ran to the door and gave it three
tremendous knocks, and then ran into the far comer of the hall.
"Oh, Lisita, how could you," cried poor dismayed Paula.
Pretty soon we heard someone coming slowly to the door, but as if he were
dragging something behind him with each step, and then the door opened
noiselessly, and there stood a forlorn twisted little figure, a lad of
about ten years. As we looked at his face with its halo of golden hair we
forgot all about his deformities.
"Have you come to see my sister?" he said.
"Yes," said Paula, "that is, we have come to see Mademoiselle Virtud."
"She is very, very sick," he said, and we saw that it was with difficulty
that he restrained his tears. As he opened the door a bit wider to let us
in, we saw that a black shawl had been placed over the only window in the
room, so that it was extremely difficult after the door was closed for our
unaccustomed eyes to see anything in the room.
"Elena," called the boy softly; "here are some visitors to see you."
"For me?" said a voice from the darkness--a voice which we recognized at
once.
"Well, then, Gabriel, please take the shawl from the window; they will find
it too dark here."
"But Elena, the light will make your head ache."
"No, no, dear; it's alright now I've slept a bit, and I feel better."
Presently the shawl came down from the window, allowing us to see the form
of poor Mlle. Virtud on the bed.
"Oh," she said, "so it's you! It's very kind of you, dear children, to come
and see me!"
We stood near the door transfixed as we looked on the face of our poor sick
teacher and we saw what a terrible change a few days had made. The little
boy came and stood near his elder sister with a mixed air of concern and
deep affection.
"And how is everybody at the school?" asked the invalid. And Paula told her
a bit about the small happenings in the class.
"And so Mademoiselle Virginia has taken the class. I am sure you must love
her very much."
"Not as much as we do you, dear teacher," said Paula.
"Oh, Paula, you just say that to make me feel good; do you not?" and poor
Mlle. Virtud looked from one to the other of us a bit sadly I thought.
At this, Paula came over to the bed and placed her warm hand on the thin
cheek of the sick one, as she said, "No, Mademoiselle; it is because it is
true, that I said it You are our dear teacher, and we know that you have
sacrificed so much and worked so hard to give us knowledge, and so that is
why we love you."
"I did my fifty lines!" I burst out, "that is to say, Paula did
twenty-five, and I did the rest."
"What's that you say?" and a smile of amusement passed over the thin
features of the teacher, and yet a certain tender look came into her eyes
as she said, "You poor little thing! I'd forgotten all about it!"
"Gabriel," she said, turning to the boy who had been examining us minutely,
"these are the young ladies who have been sending you such beautiful
flowers. You see, he loves flowers so!" explained Mademoiselle. "Poor
child, he cannot walk, and so he has to stay here in this stuffy room all
day long. Before I was ill, I was able to take him out in his little
carriage, and sometimes we would go as far as the open fields where he
could see all the flowers he wanted to, to his heart's desire, but now that
I'm confined to my bed with this heart-attack, those little excursions have
become impossible."
"Are you very sick, Mademoiselle?" Paula asked.
"Oh, I feel very much better today. I have suffered greatly. I must get
better quickly. Madame Boudre, the principal, wrote me yesterday that she
hoped I would be back very soon in my place in the class. Madame Boudre
doesn't care to have sick people," and our teacher looked toward the window
with its little white curtains and sighed deeply. Gabriel came near the
bed, "Don't worry about that, sister; when I get big I will work for you
and become rich, and then you won't need to go to school at all."
How many things I was discovering, I who thought that the life of the
school-teacher was a bed of roses.
"No, never any more," continued the little boy, "I know why you're sick.
It's because the school-children trouble you, and as you told me it gave
you so much pain to punish them, but when I get big you shall see, as I
said before."
Mlle. Virtud looked at the little face with its great earnest eyes.
"I'm afraid you will have to wait a long, long time," she said tenderly, "I
don't think I ever told you young ladies that I had a little brother at
home. He is the youngest of our family, and I am the oldest."
"How is it that Gabriel is not at home with his parents?" questioned Paula.
"Because, you see, he needed certain special treatment which my parents
could not give him in the small village where we live; but here in Rouen
there are fine doctors and big hospitals. Of course, I doubt if he can be
restored completely, but we are doing all we can. That is my one
consolation. I didn't expect that he would be with me so long a time. The
first time Gabriel came to Rouen, he went into the big hospital
'_Hotel-de-Dieu_' but, after staying there for many months, his hip seemed
to be no better, and they could not keep him any longer and then he stayed
with me here so that I could take him to the doctor once in a while."
"You'll tire yourself, Mademoiselle, talking to us," broke in Paula, who
had learned this much, taking care of Catalina.
"Do you think so," said Mademoiselle, "I know I'm not very well yet, but it
isn't very often that I have the pleasure of a visit from my pupils, and so
I'm profiting by it. You see, I took Gabriel home once, but when I started
to return, the poor boy begged so hard to come back with me that finally my
parents agreed; so he's been with me now for several years. We are very
happy, are we not, Gabriel? You see, when I'm in school he's able to tidy
up the house and wash the dishes. What would I do without my little
Gabriel?" she said, as she playfully pulled the little boy's hair.
"And I," said Gabriel, "What would I do without you? In fact, what would
everybody do around this whole court without you? Wasn't it you who--"
"There, that will do," said Mlle. Virtud. "You mustn't tell all the family
secrets. We are here in this world to help others; are we not, Lisita?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered, and I was filled with fear that there
might be another sermon coming. However, Mlle. Virtud began to tell us of
the rest of the family and of the little village to which they returned at
vacation time; and one could see that her heart was there with her loved
ones. During the next few minutes there was quite a silence, and I began to
shiver with cold, and we noticed that there was no fire in the grate.
"How pale you are," said Mademoiselle; "Are you cold?"
"Yes, a little, Mademoiselle," I said, quite ashamed for my discomfort to
be discovered.
"Poor little girl," she said. Taking my two hands in her two hot ones that
were burning with fever, "You had better not stay here any longer as you
are not accustomed to the cold. Our neighbor made a little fire in the
grate this morning to cook the breakfast with, but it's gone out."
Was it this little touch of tenderness on the part of Mademoiselle, or
remorse for all the wicked feelings I had so long held against my teacher?
Anyway, a flood of tears came as I kneeled beside the bed and hid my face
on the white cover. "Oh, Mademoiselle ... forgive me," I murmured between
by sobs.
All my pride had broken and I saw myself for what I was, guilty, unjust and
cruel toward this young woman whom I had accused of living solely for
herself. I felt a hand passing slowly over my head.
"I forgive you with all my heart, poor child," and the invalid's voice was
both sincere and kindly, and I rose and embraced her with a repentant
heart, and with a hearty kiss I buried our old war then and there, and in
that cold room I felt the warmth of the beginning of a new life for me
although at that time I could not have analyzed it. Suddenly we heard a
knock on the door.
"Ah, that will be Madame Bertin," said Gabriel, as he hitched himself to
the door and opened it, revealing a gray-haired woman who came in on
tiptoe.
"Ah, you have visitors, Mademoiselle," as she stopped a moment near the
door.
"Only two of my pupils who have come to see me. Come in, come in, it's all
right," insisted our teacher.
"Ah," said the new arrival with great interest, "so you are my Victoria's
schoolmates. How proud you ought to be to have such a wonderful teacher!"
Here she advanced to the bed. "Well, I declare," she said, "you have no
more drinking water!" She shook a flask near the bedside, saying, "I will
go and fill it and bring back a little something to make a fire with so as
to get your tea ready. I'm sure Gabriel must be hungry by this time," and
without waiting for a reply the good woman went rapidly down the four
flights of stairs. Paula then gave Mademoiselle the small package Teresa
had sent, as well as the little bag of oranges.
"See, Gabriel!" said Mademoiselle as she opened the packages with delight,
"Oranges!--and chocolate! What a treat! You are very good to remember me in
such a lovely way. Please thank your Teresa too."
"She said she was coming to see you," said Paula.
At this the poor young woman looked disturbed. "I'm afraid she'll find
things in a very bad state here," and she colored slightly.
But as we started to go away Paula assured her that Teresa wouldn't mind a
bit.