Lisette had finished her tasks in the kitchen when the two ladies came
to pay her a visit. She was sitting in a low, stoutly made chair which
had been fashioned expressly for her huge frame, and was shuffling a
pack of cards when the ladies entered.
She did not lay the cards to one side, nor did she rise from her chair
when the baroness came toward her and said in a friendly tone:
"Well, Lisette, I dare say you do not know that I am your neighbor from
the manor?"
"Oh, yes, I do. I used often to hear my poor old man talk about the
beautiful lady over yonder, and of course you must be she."
"And do you know that I expect to be Count Vavel's wife?"
"I did not know it, your ladyship, but it is natural. A gallant
gentleman and a beautiful lady--if they are thrown together then there
follows either marriage or danger. A marriage is better than a danger."
"This time, Lisette, marriage and danger go hand in hand. The count is
preparing for the war."
This announcement had no other effect on the impassive mountain of flesh
than to make her shuffle her cards more rapidly.
"Then it is come at last!" she muttered, cutting the cards, and
glancing at the under one. It was only a knave, not the queen!
"Yes," continued the baroness; "the recruiting-flag already floats from
the tower of the castle, and to-morrow volunteers will begin to enroll
their names."
"God help them!" again muttered the woman.
"I am going to take your young mistress home with me, Lisette," again
remarked the baroness. "It would not be well to leave her here, amid the
turmoil of recruiting and the clashing of weapons, would it?"
"I can't say. My business is in the kitchen; I don't know anything about
matters out of it," replied Lisette, still shuffling her cards.
"But I intend to take you out of the kitchen, Lisette," returned the
baroness. "I don't intend to let you work any more. You shall live with
us over at the manor, in a room of your own, and, if you wish, have a
little kitchen all to yourself, and a little maid to wait on you. You
will come with us, will you not?"
"I thank your ladyship; but I had rather stay where I am."
"But why?"
"Because I should be a trouble to everybody over yonder. I am a person
that suits only herself. I don't know how to win the good will of other
people. I don't keep a cat or a dog, because I don't want to love
anything. Besides, I have many disagreeable habits. I use snuff, and I
can't agree with anybody. I am best left to myself, your ladyship."
"But what will become of you when both your master and mistress are gone
from the castle?"
"I shall do what I have always done, your ladyship. The Herr Count
promised that I should never want for anything to cook so long as I
lived."
"Don't misunderstand me, Lisette. I did not ask how you intended to
live. What I meant was, how are you going to get on when you do not see
or hear any one--when you are all alone here?"
"I am not afraid to be alone. I have no money, and I don't think anybody
would undertake to carry _me_ off! I am never lonely. I can't read,--for
which I thank God!--so that never bothers me. I don't like to knit; for
ever since I saw those terrible women sitting around the guillotine and
knitting, knitting, knitting all day long, I can't bear to see the
motion of five needles. So I just amuse myself with these cards; and I
don't need anything else."
"But surely your heart will grow sore when you do not see your little
mistress daily?"
"Daily--daily, your ladyship? This is the second time I have laid eyes
on her face in six years! There was a time when I saw her daily,
hourly--when she needed me all the time. Is not that so, my little
mistress? Don't you remember how I had a little son, and how he called
me _chère maman_, and I called him _mon petit garçon_?"
As she spoke, she laid the cards one by one on her snowy apron. She
looked intently at them for several moments, then continued:
"No; I don't need to know anything, only that she is safe. _She_ will
always be carefully guarded from all harm, and my cards will always tell
me all I need know about _mon petit garçon_. No, your ladyship; I shall
not go with you; I cannot leave the place where my poor Henry died."
"Poor Lisette! what a tender heart is yours!"
"Mine?" suddenly and with unusual energy interrupted Lisette. "Mine a
tender heart? Ask this little lady here--who cannot tell a lie--if I am
not the woman who has the hardest, the most unfeeling heart in all the
world. Ask her that, your ladyship. Tell her, _mon petit garçon_," she
added, turning to Marie,--"tell the lady it is as I say."
"Lisette--dear Lisette," remonstrated Marie.
"Have you ever seen me weep?" demanded the woman.
"No, Lisette; but--"
"Did I ever sigh," interrupted Lisette, "or moan, or grieve, that time
when we spent many days and nights together in one room?"
"No, no; never, Lisette."
The woman turned in her chair to a chest that stood by her side, opened
it, and took out a package carefully wrapped first in paper, then in a
linen cloth.
When she had removed the wrappings, she held up in her hands a child's
chemise and petticoat.
"What is needed to complete these, your ladyship?" she asked.
"A dear little child, I should say," answered Katharina, indulgently.
"You are right--a dear little child."
"Where is the child, Lisette?"
"That I don't know--do you understand? _I--don't--know._ And I don't
inquire, either. Now, will you still imagine that I have a tender heart?
It is years since I looked on these little garments. What did I do with
the child that wore them? Whose business is it what I did with her? She
was _my_ child, and I had a right to do as I pleased with her. I was
paid enough for it--an enormous price! You don't understand what I am
talking about, your ladyship. Go; take _mon petit garçon_ with you; and
may God do so to you as you deal with him. Take care of him. My cards
will tell me everything, and sometime, when I have turned into a hideous
hobgoblin, those whom I shall haunt will remember me! And now, _mon
petit garçon_"--turning again to Marie,--"let me kiss your hand for the
last time."
Marie came close to the singular woman, bent over her, and pressed a
kiss on the fat cheeks, then held her own for a return caress.
This action of the young girl seemed to please the woman. She struggled
to her feet, muttering: "She is still the same. May God guard her from
all harm!" Then she waddled toward Katharina, took her slender hand in
her own broad palm, and added: "Take good care of my treasure, your
ladyship. Up to now, I have taken the broomstick every evening, before
going to bed, and thrust it under all the furniture, to see if there
might not be a thief hidden somewhere. You will have to do that now. A
great treasure, great care! And, your ladyship, when you shall have in
your house such a little chemise and petticoat, with the little child in
them, trotting after you, chattering and laughing, clasping her arms
round you and kissing you, and if some one should say to you, as they
said to me, 'How great a treasure would induce you to exchange this
little somebody in the red petticoat for it?' and if you should say, 'I
will give up the child for so much,' then, your ladyship, you too may
say, as I say, that your heart is a heart of stone."
Katharina's face had grown very white. She staggered toward Marie,
caught her arm, and drew her toward the door, gasping:
"Come--come--let us go. The steam--the heat of--the kitchen makes--me
faint."
The fresh air of the court soon revived her.
"Let us play a trick on Ludwig," she suggested. "We will take his canoe,
and cross the cove to the manor. We can send it back with a servant."
She ordered her coachman to take the carriage home; then she took
Marie's hand and led her down to the lake.
They were soon in the boat. Marie, who had learned to row from Ludwig,
sent the little craft gliding over the water, while Katharina held the
rudder.
Very soon they were in the park belonging to the manor; and how
delighted Marie was to see everything!
A herd of deer crossed their path, summoned to the feeding-place by a
blast from the game-keeper's horn. The graceful animals were so tame
that a hind stopped in front of the two ladies, and allowed them to rub
her head and neck. Oh, how much there was to see and enjoy over here!
Katharina could hardly keep pace with the eager young girl, who would
have liked to examine the entire park at once.
What a number of questions she asked! And how astonished she was when
Katharina told her the large birds in the farm-yard were hens and
turkeys. She had never dreamed that these creatures could be so pretty.
She had never seen them before--not even a whole one served on the
table, only the slices of white meat which Lisette had always cut off
for her. But what delighted her more than anything else was that she
might meet people, look fearlessly at them, and be stared at in return,
and cordially return their friendly "God give you a good day!"
What a pleasure it was to stop the women and children, with all sorts
and shapes of burdens on their heads or in their arms, and ask what they
were carrying in the heavy hampers; to call to the peasant girls who
were singing merrily, and ask where they had learned the pretty songs.
"Oh, how delightful it is here!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around
the baroness. "I should like to dig and work in the garden all day long
with these merry girls. How happy I shall be here!"
"To-morrow we will visit the fields," said Katharina "Can you ride?"
"Ride?" echoed Marie, in smiling surprise. "Yes--on a rocking-horse."
"Then you will very soon learn to sit on a living horse."
"Do you really believe I shall?" breathlessly exclaimed Marie.
"Yes; I have a very gentle horse which you shall have for your own."
"One of those dear, tiny little horses from which one could not fall? I
have seen them in picture-books."
"He is not so very small; but you will not be afraid of falling off when
you have learned to ride. Then, when you can manage your horse, we will
ride after the hounds--"
"No, no," hastily interposed the young girl; "I shall never do that. I
could not bear to see an animal hurt or killed."
"You will have to accustom yourself to seeing such sights, my dear
little daughter. Riding and hunting are necessary accomplishments;
besides, they strengthen the nerves."
"Have not the peasant women got strong nerves, little mama?"
"Yes; but they strengthen them by hard work, such as washing clothes."
"Then let us wash clothes, too."
Katharina smiled indulgently on the innocent maid, and the two now
entered the manor, where Marie made the acquaintance of Fräulein Lotti,
the baroness's companion.
Marie's attention was attracted by the number of books she saw
everywhere; and they were all new to her. Ludwig had never brought
anything like them to the castle. There were poems, histories, romances,
fables. Ah, how she would enjoy reading every one of them!
"Oh, who is doing this?" she exclaimed, when her eyes fell on an easel
on which was a half-finished painting--a study head.
Her admiration for the baroness increased when that lady told her the
picture was the work of her own hand.
"How very clever you must be, little mama! I wonder if you could paint
my portrait?"
"I will try it to-morrow," smilingly replied the baroness.
"And what is this--this great monster with so many teeth?" she asked,
running to the piano.
Katharina told her the name of the "monster," and, seating herself in
front of the "teeth," began to play.
Marie was in an ecstasy of delight.
"How happy you ought to be, little mama, to be able to make such
beautiful music!" she cried, when Katharina turned again toward her.
"You shall learn to play, too; Fräulein Lotti will teach you."
For this promise Marie ran to Fräulein Lotti and embraced her.
While at dinner Marie suddenly remembered that she had not yet seen the
little water-monster, and inquired about him.
The baroness told her that the boy had gone back to his fish companions
in the lake; then asked: "But where did you ever see the creature?"
Marie hesitated a moment before replying; a natural modesty forbade her
from confessing to Ludwig's betrothed wife that he had taught her how to
swim, and had always accompanied her on her swimming excursions in his
canoe.
"I saw him once with you in the park, when I was looking through the
telescope," she answered, with some confusion.
"Ah! then you also have been spying upon me?" jestingly exclaimed the
baroness.
"How else could I have learned that you are so good and beautiful?"
frankly returned the young girl.
"Ah, I have an idea," suddenly observed the baroness. "That spy-glass is
here now. The surveyor to whom Ludwig gave it sent it to me when he had
done with it. Come, we will pay Herr Ludwig back in his own coin! We
will spy out what the gentlemen are doing over at the castle."
Marie was charmed with this suggestion, and willingly accompanied her
"little mama" to the veranda, where the familiar telescope greeted her
sight.
Two of the windows in that side of the Nameless Castle which faced the
manor were lighted.
"That is the dining-room; they are at dinner," explained Marie,
adjusting the glass--a task of which the baroness was ignorant. When she
had arranged the proper focus, she made room for Katharina, who had a
better right than she had to watch Ludwig.
"What do you see?" she asked, when Katharina began to smile.
"I see Ludwig and the vice-palatine; they are leaning out of the window,
and smoking--"
"Smoking?" interposed Marie. "Ludwig never smokes."
"See for yourself!"
Katharina stepped back, and Marie placed her eye to the glass. Yes;
there, plainly enough, she beheld the remarkable sight: Ludwig, with
evident enjoyment, drawing great clouds of smoke from a long-stemmed
pipe. The two men were talking animatedly; but even while they were
speaking, the pipes were not removed from their lips--Ludwig, indeed, at
times vanished entirely behind the dense cloud of smoke.
"For six whole years he never once let me see him smoking a pipe!"
murmured Marie to herself. "How much he enjoys it! Do you"--turning
abruptly toward the baroness, who was smilingly watching her young
guest--"do you object to tobacco smoke?"
She seemed relieved when the baroness assured her that tobacco smoke was
not in the least objectionable.
Some time later, when reminded that it was time for little girls to be
in bed, Marie protested stoutly that she was not sleepy.
"Pray, little mama," she begged, "let us look a little longer through
the telescope; it is so interesting."
But even while she was giving voice to her petition the windows in the
dining-room over at the castle became darkened. The gentlemen evidently
had retired to their rooms for the night.
"Oh, ah-h," yawned Marie, "I am sleepy, after all! Come, little mama, we
will go to bed."
Katharina herself conducted the young girl to her room. Marie exclaimed
with surprise and delight when, on entering the room adjoining the
baroness's own sleeping-chamber, she beheld her own furniture--the
canopy-bed, the book-shelves, toys, card-table, everything. Even Hitz,
Mitz, Pani, and Miura sat in a row on the sofa, and Phryxus and Helle
came waddling toward her, and sat up on their hind legs.
The things had been brought over from the castle while the baroness and
Marie were in the park.
"You will feel more at home with your belongings about you," said
Katharina, as she returned the grateful girl's good-night kiss.