Mlle. Duvoisine picked up her stitch, rolled up the knitting, put it in
a drawer, and said, "There. Now what can I do for you, Madame Perceval?"
Madame Perceval pushed Flip forward. "This child sounds like a frog
with a cold and I thought you'd better have a look at her."
"Open your mouth," Mlle. Duvoisine said to Flip. She peered down her
throat, said "hm," and pulled her thermometer out of her pocket,
popping it in Flip's mouth.
Madame Perceval sat on the desk, opened the drawer and pulled out the
sweater. "A work of art," she sighed. "My knitting always looks as
though a cat had nested in it."
"My skiing looks as though I had my skis on backwards," Mlle. Duvoisine
said. "Radio says snow tonight. What do you think?"
"Smells like it, and it's about time we had some. Fräulein Hauser's
been opening the window in the faculty room every ten minutes to sniff
the air, and freezing the rest of us to death."
Mlle. Duvoisine drew the thermometer out of Flip's mouth and looked
at it. "Well, it's barely ninety-nine, but with that throat and voice
I think you'd better come to the infirmary over night, Philippa. You
won't be missing any classes. If your temperature's normal tomorrow
I'll let you up."
"Oh, please!" Flip begged, dismay flooding her face. "Please don't make
me go to bed, please! I feel wonderful, just wonderful, really!" Her
voice cracked and almost disappeared.
"I knew the infirmary was referred to as the Dungeon," Mlle. Duvoisine
said, "but I didn't think it was considered as terrible as all that. Go
get your night things and your toothbrush, Philippa."
"But I'm not sick," Flip protested hoarsely.
Mlle. Duvoisine looked at Madame Perceval and raised her eyebrows. "I
don't want any more nonsense," she said briskly. "Go get your things
and be back here in ten minutes."
Flip opened her mouth to speak again, but Madame Perceval said quietly,
"Philippa," and she turned and ran miserably down the corridor.
"Really!" she heard Mlle. Duvoisine exclaim. "Now what's the matter
with the child?"
Oh, dear, Flip thought. Now Madame will think I'm sulking again and
Paul will think I've broken my word.
And she gathered up her pajamas and toothbrush and trailed miserably
back to the infirmary.
5
When she was in bed with the hot water bottle Mlle. Duvoisine had
brought her as a peace offering, she could think of nothing but way
after impossible way to let Paul know why she couldn't come to the
chateau that afternoon.
"You look as though you had something on your mind, Philippa." Mlle.
Duvoisine said when she brought in the lunch tray.
"I have," Flip answered in the strange raucous voice that issued in so
unwelcome a manner from her throat. "Please, couldn't I get up, Mlle.
Duvoisine? I'm not sick, truly, and I do so hate being in bed."
"What is this nonsense?" Mlle. Duvoisine asked sharply. "You can hear
what you sound like yourself. I know you aren't ill, but I have you
in bed so that you won't be, and so that you won't give your germs to
anyone else. If you dislike me so intensely that you can't bear to be
around me, just get well as quickly as you can."
"Oh, no, Mlle. Duvoisine, it isn't that!" Flip protested. "It isn't
anything to do with you. I just promised someone I'd do something this
afternoon, and I don't know what they'll think if I don't keep my word."
"I can give anyone a message for you, explaining that you're in the
infirmary," Mlle. Duvoisine said, and her voice was kind.
"I'm afraid you couldn't, to this person," Flip answered mournfully.
"Thank you ever so much anyhow, Mlle. Duvoisine, and I'm sorry to be
such a bother."
"All right, Philippa." Mlle. Duvoisine put the lunch tray down and left.
When she brought in Flip's tea she said, "Since you're the only victim
in my dungeon at present, Philippa, I think I'll run down to the
Faculty Room for an hour. If you want me for anything all you need do
is press that button. It's connected with the Faculty Room as well as
my desk and Miss Tulip or I will come right away."
"Thank you very much," Flip said. "I'm sure I won't need anything."
"I've filled your hot water bottle for you," Mademoiselle said kindly,
and stopped at the window screwing in the top. "It's just beginning to
snow. Now Fräulein Hauser and Madame Perceval and all the skiers will
be happy. Sure you don't mind my leaving you?"
"Oh, no, Mademoiselle!"
This was the opportunity Flip had not dared hope for. When Mlle.
Duvoisine had left she sprang out of bed and got her clothes out of
the closet. She dressed without giving herself time to think. If Mlle.
Duvoisine were going to be gone an hour she would have just time, if
she ran, to get to the chateau, tell Paul what had happened, and get
back to the infirmary. That is, as long as she wasn't caught. But she
knew that she must not let herself even think about being caught.
Desperately she shoved her pillows under the covers so that they looked
like someone asleep, peered out the door, saw that the way down the
corridor was clear, and pelted for the back stairs. The girls were
strictly forbidden to use the back stairs which afforded a means of
entrance and exit that could not be detected by the teacher on duty at
the desk in the lounge, but Flip was too desperate to care. When she
got out the small back door she looked around wildly, and ran for the
woods like one pursued. Thank heaven everyone was at tea. When she got
in sight of the chateau she was winded, her knee ached, and her hair
was flecked with the first falling flakes of snow. She did not see Paul
and her heart sank.
"Paul!" Flip cried, her throat dry, her voice coming out in an
ineffectual squeak. "Paul!"
There was no answer. She tried to call again but this time her voice
seemed to have left her completely and only her lips shaped the
syllables of Paul's name. Then she heard the familiar baying bark and
Ariel came bounding out of the chateau to meet her, jumping up at her
and knocking her down in his pleasure. She scrambled to her feet,
hugging him on the way up, and then she saw Paul come running around a
corner of the chateau.
"What happened to you, Flip!" he cried. "I thought you weren't coming."
"So did I," Flip croaked, "and I can't stay."
"What's the matter with your voice?"
"I have a cold, they've got me in the infirmary, I managed to escape
but I've got to rush back or I'll be caught, I'll come next Saturday
unless something awful happens to keep me away." The words came out in
one hoarse gasp.
"Flip, you idiot!" Paul cried. "What do you mean by coming here."
"But I said I'd come!" Flip panted. "I've got to get back."
"Not until you rest and get your breath back," Paul commanded. "You'll
make yourself really ill."
"But, Paul," Flip wailed, "I've _got_ to get back. If Mlle. Duvoisine
finds out I've gone I'll be expelled!" Tears rushed to her eyes.
Paul took her hand and shook his head. "Flip, Flip," he said. "Don't
you realize what a little idiot you were to make this dangerous trip
just to tell me you _couldn't_ come? You should know that I understand
you well enough to know that if you didn't come you'd have a reason.
You should never have gotten out of bed and come all this way through
the snow. But--" and suddenly his eyes were warm with affection. "It
was just like you to do it. Now, go back and take care of yourself."
"I will--good-bye." And she turned back down the mountain.
Flip ran. Going down the mountain was quicker, though not much easier,
than coming up had been. Several times she slipped on the wet pine
needles and almost fell. The snow was coming more thickly now, and a
cloud had folded itself about the school, so that its outlines were
lost in grey fuzziness. As she slipped in the small side door she heard
someone coming down the back stairs. It was Fräulein Hauser, on her way
to the ski room to wax her skis. Flip pressed into the shadows, until
Fräulein Hauser passed on down the damp corridor and then Flip suddenly
wilted against the wall. But every moment that she was away from the
infirmary was dangerous; there was no time for her to lean there limply
and catch her breath; so she gave herself a shake and hurried up the
stairs. She opened the door at the third floor and peered out. The
corridor was empty. She held her breath and ran for the infirmary, and
opened the door a crack. Mlle. Duvoisine's desk was unoccupied. She
made a mad dash for her room, threw off her clothes, dumped them onto
the floor of the closet, and scrambled into bed, pushing the pillows
out of her way.
She was safe.
She lay in bed, her heart knocking against her chest. Through the
window she could see the snow coming down in great soft white petals.
The snow clouds in which the school lay obscured everything. She could
not see the Dents du Midi or the lake or even the big elm trees that
girdled the school. Everything was a soft grey filled with the gently
dropping snow.
She was still a little shaky when Mlle. Duvoisine came in. "All right,
Philippa?"
"Yes, thank you, Mlle. Duvoisine." She hoped the hoarseness would
account for the breathlessness of her voice.
Mlle. Duvoisine took her pulse. "Good heavens, child, your pulse
is racing," she exclaimed, and took Flip's temperature. But the
thermometer registered only ninety-nine. Mlle. Duvoisine put her hand
on Flip's forehead and Flip was terrified that the nurse would feel her
wet hair, but all she said was, "Have you been asleep? Have you too
many covers? You seem to be perspiring."
"I'm very comfortable," Flip told her. "The hot water bottle's lovely.
I hope you had a pleasant tea, Mademoiselle."
"Yes. Thanks. Everybody's very pleased about the snow though Madame
Perceval says it's going to stop soon and there won't be enough for
skiing."
"In Connecticut where I was born," Flip said, trying to sound casual
so that Mlle. Duvoisine would think she had just been lying in the bed
all afternoon, "people talk about the first snowfly. I think that's
beautiful, don't you? Snowfly."
"Yes, beautiful," Mlle. Duvoisine said. "Think you can eat your
supper?"
"Oh, yes," Flip cried hoarsely. "I'm famished." And she was.
6
Mlle. Dragonet made it a practice to visit the girls in the infirmary,
and she came to see Flip that evening, sitting in her erect, stiff
manner in the chair Mlle. Duvoisine had drawn up for her. It was the
first time Flip had spoken to the principal since the first day of
school, and she was very nervous. Mlle. Dragonet held herself aloof
from the girls, delegating many duties that would ordinarily have
been hers to Madame Perceval, and the bravest of them regarded her
with timidity. She conducted a class in seventeenth century French
literature for the seniors; she held Morning Exercises in the Assembly
Hall; and once a week she presided over a faculty table in the dining
room. The little visits to the infirmary were more dreaded than
anticipated by the girls, and Flip had forgotten all about the prospect
in the other excitements of the day until Mlle. Duvoisine announced
Mlle. Dragonet's arrival.
"I'm sorry to hear you aren't well, Philippa," the principal said
formally.
"Oh, I'm fine, really, thank you, Mlle. Dragonet," Flip croaked.
"Mlle. Duvoisine tells me you haven't much fever."
"Oh, no, Mlle. Dragonet." Flip looked at the principal and realized
with a start that she bore a faint family resemblance to her niece. The
thin, aristocratic nose was very like Madame Perceval's, and there was
a similarity in the shape of the mouth, though Madame Perceval's had a
sweetness that Mlle. Dragonet's lacked. But there was the same flash
of humor in the eyes, which were the same gold-flecked grey.
As though reading her thoughts, Mlle. Dragonet said, "Madame Perceval
tells me your work in her Art classes is very promising."
"Oh," Flip breathed.
"Your scholastic record is in general quite satisfactory."
"Oh," Flip said again.
"I hope you are enjoying school?"
Flip knew that Mlle. Dragonet wanted her to say "yes," so she answered,
"Oh, yes, thank you."
"You are enjoying the other girls?"
"Oh, yes, thank you."
"Sometimes the Americans find our European girls are younger for their
years, less sophisticated."
"Oh," Flip said. "I hadn't noticed."
"You have friends you enjoy?"
Flip hesitated; then she thought of Paul, and answered, "Oh, yes, thank
you."
Mlle. Dragonet rose, and Flip, with sudden insight, realized that
the principal, though so calm and fluent when speaking to a group of
girls, was almost as shy as she herself was when confronted with an
individual, and these infirmary visits cost her a real effort.
Mlle. Dragonet ran her fingers in a tired fashion over her grey hair.
"It has been a long day," she said to Flip, "and now the snow has
started and the girls will be happy and we will have numerous sprained
ankles from over-enthusiastic skiers. But as long as the girls are
happy perhaps that is all right. If anything should ever trouble you,
remember you have only to come to me."
"Thank you very much, Mlle. Dragonet," Flip said. "I'll remember."
7
Getting to the chateau was difficult the next Saturday, although Madame
Perceval had been right and the snow had stopped and temporarily dashed
the skiers' hopes. But enough snow remained on the ground so that Flip
put on her spiked ski-boots to help her climb the mountain. Up above
her the mountain had a striped, zebra-like look, long streaks of snow
alternating with rock or the darker lines of the evergreens. The air
was cold and clear and sent the color flying to her cheeks.
Paul greeted her with a relieved shout, crying, "Are you all better,
Flip?"
"Oh yes, I feel fine now."
"I was worried about you. I was afraid you might have caught more cold
from coming last Sunday. You shouldn't have, you know."
"I had to," Flip said. "I promised."
"I knew something you couldn't help had kept you. Of course I was a
little afraid you'd been caught and they were keeping you from coming.
Did you have any trouble getting here today? What will you do when
there's a _real_ snow, Flip? You'll never be able to make it."
"I'll make it," Flip assured him. "Where's Ariel?"
"He's home with my father. Flip, I--I've done something that may make
you angry."
"What?"
"Well, I got to thinking. It's so terribly cold in the chateau; I'm
sure that's why you caught cold, and I didn't think we should go back
there in the damp today so I told my father about you. He won't give us
away, Flip, I made him promise."
"Are you sure?" Flip asked anxiously.
"Quite sure. My father would never break his word. Anyhow he's a
philosopher and things like girls schools and rules and regulations and
things don't seem as important to him as they do to other people. He
told me to bring you home with me and he said he'd fix some real hot
chocolate for us. So come along."
Flip followed Paul over the snow, past the chateau, and down an
overgrown driveway. Grass and weeds and bits of stubble poked up
through the snow and it did not look like much of a snowfall here
though the drifts had seemed formidable enough on her way up the
mountain from school.
A tall, stooped man, whom Flip recognized as the one she had seen Paul
with in the chalet on the Col de Jaman, met them at the door to the
lodge. Ariel came bounding out to welcome them noisily.
"My father," Paul announced formally. "Monsieur Georges Laurens. Papa,
my friend, Miss Philippa Hunter."
Georges Laurens bowed. "I am happy indeed to meet you, Miss Hunter.
Come in by the fire and get warm." He led them into a room, comfortable
from the blazing fire in the stone fireplace, and gently pushed Flip
into an easy chair. She looked about her. Two beautiful brocades were
hung on the walls and there were what seemed like hundreds of books
in improvised bookshelves made of packing cases. Two or three lamps
were already lit against the early darkness which had settled about
the mountain side by this time of the afternoon, and Flip saw a copper
saucepan filled with hot chocolate sitting on the hearth.
"Flip's afraid you'll let the cat out of the bag, papa," Paul said.
Georges Laurens took a long spoon, stirred the chocolate, and poured it
out. He handed a cup to Flip and pushed Ariel away from the saucepan.
"Watch out, you'll burn your nose again." Then he turned to Flip. "Why
should I let the cat out of the bag? You aren't doing anyone any harm
and you're giving a great deal of pleasure to my lonely Paul. In fact,
I like so much the idea of Paul's having your companionship that my
only concern is how to help you continue your visits. As soon as we
have a heavy snow you won't be able to climb up the mountains through
the woods to us, and in any event someone would be sure to find you out
sooner or later and you would be forbidden to come if nothing else.
These are facts we have to face, isn't that so?"
"Yes, that's so," Flip said.
"She has to come," Paul said very firmly.
Georges Laurens took off his heavy steel-rimmed spectacles and wiped
them on his handkerchief. Then he took the tongs and placed another log
on the fire. "My suggestion is this: Why don't I go to the headmistress
of this school and get permission for Miss Flip to come to tea with us
every Saturday or Sunday afternoon. That would be allowed, wouldn't it?"
"I don't know," Flip said. "Esmée Bodet's parents are spending a month
in Montreux and she has dinner with them every Sunday. But Paul's a boy
and we're not allowed to have dates until we're Seniors."
"I think if I were very charming," Georges Laurens refilled her cup
with hot chocolate from the copper saucepan, "I could manage your
headmistress. What is her name?"
"Mlle. Dragonet," Flip told him. "We call her The Dragon," she said,
then added, remembering the visit in the infirmary, "but she's really
quite human."
Georges Laurens laughed. "Well, I shall be St. George, then, and
conquer the dragon. I will brave her in her den this very afternoon."
"And now I suggest that you get back to your school and tomorrow we
will have a proper visit, and I will come for you and bring you over."
He held out his hand. "I promise."
8
It never occurred to Flip that on this last forbidden trip to the
chateau she might be caught. Luck had been her friendly companion in
the venture and now that the visits to Paul were about to be approved
by authority, surely fortune would not forsake her. But, just as she
came to the clearing where the railroad tracks ran through the woods,
she saw two figures in warm coats and snow boots and recognized Madame
Perceval and Signorina del Rossi. She darted behind a tree, but they
had evidently caught a glimpse of her blue uniform coat, for Signorina
put a gloved hand on Madame Perceval's arm and said something in a low
voice, and Madame Perceval called out sharply,
"Who is it?"
Flip thought of making a wild dash for safety, but she knew it would
be useless. They were between her and the school and they would be
bound to recognize her if she tried to run past them. So she stepped
out from behind the tree and confronted them just as a train came
around the bend. In a moment the train was between them; she was not
sure whether or not they had had an opportunity to recognize her in
the misty dark; the school uniforms were all identical and there were
dozens of girls with short fair hair. Now was her chance to run and
hide. They would never find her in the dark of the woods and the train
would give her a good chance to get a head start. But somehow, even if
this meant that she would never be given permission to see Paul, she
could not run like a coward from Madame Perceval, so she stood very
quietly, cold with fear, until the train had passed. Then she crossed
the tracks to them.
"Thank you for waiting, Philippa," Madame Perceval said.
She stood, numbly staring at the art teacher, her fingers twisting
unhappily inside her mittens.
"Did you know you were out of bounds, Philippa?" Madame Perceval asked
her.
She shook her head. "I didn't remember where the bounds were." Then she
added, "but I was pretty sure I was out of them."
Signorina stood looking at her with the serene half-smile that seldom
left her face even when she had to cope with the dullest and most
annoying girls in her Italian classes. "Where were you going, little
one?"
"Back to school."
"Where from?"
"I was--walking."
"Was it necessary to go out of bounds on your walk?" Madame Perceval
asked coldly. "Mlle. Dragonet is very severe with girls who cross the
railroad tracks."
Flip remembered the walk on which she had first met Ariel, and how,
somehow, it had been necessary to go up, up, the mountain. "I wanted to
climb."
"Were you alone?" Madame Perceval looked at her piercingly but the dark
hid the girl's expression. When she hesitated, Madame pursued, "Did you
meet anyone?"
"Yes," Flip answered so low that she could scarcely be heard.
"You'd better come back to the school with me," Madame Perceval said.
She turned to Signorina. "Go along, Signorina. Tell them I'll come when
I can."
In silence Flip followed Madame down the mountain. When she slipped
on a piece of ice and her long legs went flying over her head, Madame
helped her to pick herself up and brush off the snow, but she said
nothing. They left the trees and crossed the lawn, covered with patches
of snow, and went into the big Hall. Madame Perceval led the way
upstairs, and Flip followed her, on up the five flights and down the
hall to Madame's own rooms. Madame switched on the lights and when she
spoke her voice was suddenly easy and pleasant.
"Sit down, Philippa." Flip's spindly legs seemed to collapse under her
like a puppy's as she sat on the stool in front of the fire. "Now,"
Madame went on. "Can you tell me about it?"