THE RETURN TO MORAINVILLE.
As the first sweet notes fell from Cæsar's fingers, the congregation
turned their heads to see what this novel music meant, and Nadine,
catching Abel's arm, whispered:
"Now I know the secret. Cæsar is going to sing '_Minuit Chrétien_,' he
knows it perfectly."
Then a great silence settled upon the worshipers. It seemed as if they
hardly breathed in their eager expectancy.
M. Blandinière was taken completely by surprise. The secret had been
well kept. But he felt it in his heart that all would be well, and,
pausing before beginning the _Pater Noster_, he stood with his arms
outstretched towards his people, and the tears dimming his eyes while
Cæsar's clear sweet voice filled the church with the lovely music of
the _Cantique de Noel_.
It was a beautiful and impressive scene. Thrilled with the purest
emotions, Nadine stood as in a dream. But for one thing, she would have
been in a very heaven of joy--if only little Lydia stood beside her
with Abel! Instinctively her heart was lifted to the good God that he
would soon restore her darling sister to her.
When Cæsar finished there followed an interval of silence, and then the
noble old priest, turning from the altar to the people, chanted in a
voice trembling with tears, the _Pater Noster_.
For the first time in its history, the old church of Mamezan had heard
the notes of a mandolin, and for the first time also, perhaps, had the
simple villagers listened to so sweet and touching a rendering of the
exquisite _Cantique de Noel_.
When the midnight Mass was ended the congregation returned to their
homes, and for some time there echoed through the still, cold air of
the night the clatter of their sabots upon the hard frozen ground.
The Tambys went back to the presbytery where Father Blandinière, taking
Cæsar's hands in his, thanked him in these sincere, simple words:
"I thank you, my dear child, with all my heart. You have afforded me a
great pleasure this night."
The Christmas celebration being over the children began preparations to
leave Mamezan and the good curé who had proved so timely a benefactor.
M. Blandinière had given them permission to give one performance
before leaving the village. But they were very much concerned regarding
it. Their program now seemed to be so sadly shortened with Lydia gone,
and their "theater" destroyed. There remained just the amusing act of
Steady and Vigilant, Cæsar's sleight-of-hand tricks and Nadine's pretty
songs, excepting, of course, Nalla, who was their strongest card.
But they could not wait to rehearse new acts, for they must lose no
further time in prosecuting the search for Lydia.
So the performance proved a disappointment, and the takings were very
meager indeed. The Mamezan folk, it is true, were mostly poor, and had
little money to spare, yet all the same it was with heavy hearts that
they bade good-bye to the kind curé and once more took the road.
They were not far beyond the boundaries of the village, for poor old
Steady made slow progress with the heavy van, when a man caught hold of
his bridle, and made him stop, which indeed he was only too glad to do.
"My children, you go no farther in that direction. I have come for you."
Nadine, Cæsar, and Abel instead of being alarmed at this startling
action, joined in an exclamation of surprise and joy, for it was not a
highway robber that had thus halted them, but an old acquaintance whom
they were delighted to recognize--no other than the kind old constable
of Morainville, who had so befriended them at that place.
What could _he_ be doing there--nearly a hundred miles away from home?
Divining their astonishment at his appearance the constable made haste
to speak.
"You are surprised to see me, no doubt. For eight days have I been
following you stage by stage of your journey. I have good news for you."
"Lydia!" at once cried the three children together. She was their first
thought. No matter what their trials might be they seemed as nothing to
them in comparison with the loss of Lydia.
But the constable shook his head.
"No--not Lydia yet," he answered in a lower tone. "We shall find her
soon, never fear. But I have come to take you back with me."
"To take us back with you?" exclaimed Nadine. "What do you mean, my
dear constable?"
"Just what I say," the old man responded, smiling upon her. "It is the
order of Madame Pradère. She has sent me for you."
"Madame Pradère!" echoed Nadine, her own countenance brightening at the
mention of the name. "Our kind benefactress! Does she really want us to
go to her?"
"To be sure!" returned the constable, who evidently enjoyed his
mission. "You don't know how sorely she has been bereaved since you
were at Morainville."
"Yes--I do," replied Nadine, softly, her eyes filling with tears. "She
lost her husband by a dreadful accident."
"Ah! She has changed greatly since then," the constable went on. "Her
hair has become almost white. There was a time when they feared for her
reason."
"The poor lady!" murmured Nadine. "How she must have suffered!"
"Yes--ah yes!" sighed the constable. "And she wants to be comforted in
her loneliness. She has neither husband nor children now, and so she
sent me off to find you, and bring you back. She has resolved to take
care of you for the future."
Nadine and Cæsar looked at one another in bewilderment. What could the
constable mean? If they did not know how good and kind he was they
might have thought he was out of his senses. Madame Pradère to adopt
them! Surely it was too good to be true!
But the constable soon convinced them that he was altogether in
earnest. Madame Pradère had sent him for them, and they must return
with him. He had his orders, and he was bound to carry them out. So,
casting away all doubt, they placed themselves under his guidance.
Nalla and Steady were then turned about, and pointed in precisely the
opposite direction. That is, they were to proceed due north instead of
due south.
It was the constable's first experience of traveling by van, and
he took to it very kindly, saying over and over again that it was
decidedly a most pleasant means of locomotion.
"You certainly get a good view of the country, and have time to become
well acquainted with it," was his sagacious comment.
He had ample funds wherewith Madame Pradère had thoughtfully provided
him, and the Tambys enjoyed every needed comfort, while the animals
were fed as never before.
Under this generous treatment Nalla completely recovered his health,
and old Steady positively grew fat, the ribs that had been showing so
plainly going quite out of sight.
For a score of days they traveled steadily but slowly, and what between
entire relief from all anxiety as to their daily bread, the unwonted
abundance of excellent food, and their thoroughly healthy outdoor life
in the pleasant company of the genial constable, the three children
improved wonderfully in appearance, so that by the time they reached
Morainville they were each and all looking their very best.
It was with an amusing yet surely pardonable air of proud satisfaction
that the constable conducted them to the Pradère chateau.
He had taken the precaution of informing Madame Pradère in advance of
their arrival, and she was ready to receive them with a warm and tender
greeting.
Nadine was touched to tears when she saw how the good lady had altered
and aged in the short space of time since she parted from her. Her
abundant hair was almost snow-white, her beautiful features were deeply
lined, and her step had lost all its spring. She moved and spoke softly.
But there was no mistaking her pleasure at the return of the children.
Both from the magistrate at Beaulieu, and Father Blandinière she had
had letters in regard to them. She knew much of their sufferings, and
she was eager to console them for their trials, and to forget her own
sorrows in the endeavor to make them happy.
"My dear children," she said after she had embraced them in turn, "it
is because I myself have suffered that I want you, who are still so
young, to forget your many tribulations. I once had children of my own.
The good God gave them to me. But He took them from me again, and now I
want to fill the empty place that they have left. I shall take entire
care of you, and shall be responsible for your future. You shall share
all that I possess, and be denied nothing that will be for your good.
The search for your sister Lydia shall be continued until she is found
and restored to you. And now, my dear children, are you content to
accept my proposal?"
Content to accept her offer--the advantages and attractions of which
were so great that they could scarcely credit their understanding of
it--? Indeed they were content--and more--they were filled with rapture
and gratitude. It meant their admission into a veritable Paradise. No
more hunger--no more cold--no more anxiety about food or clothing--no
more rough or rascally people to deal with--oh, how good it was of God
to give them such a friend!