ONE OF THE NOBILITY
On the next block, above little Gex’s fruit stall, was a small cottage
set close to the sidewalk, with two narrow windows covered with batten
shutters that no one remembered to have ever seen opened. On one side
was a high green fence, in which was a small door, and above this
fence some flowering trees were visible. A pink crape-myrtle shed its
transparent petals on the sidewalk below. A white oleander and a Cape
jasmine made the air fragrant, while a “Gold of Ophir” rose, entwined
with a beautiful “Reine Henriette,” crept along the top of the fence,
and hung in riotous profusion above the heads of the passers.
Every day, in rain or shine, when Lady Jane visited little Gex, she
continued her walk to the green fence, and stood looking wistfully
at the clustering roses that bloomed securely beyond the reach of
pilfering fingers, vainly wishing that some of them would fall at her
feet, or that the gate might accidentally open, so that she could get a
peep within.
And Lady Jane was not more curious than most of the older residents
of Good Children Street. For many years it had been the desire of the
neighborhood to see what was going on behind that impenetrable green
fence. Those who were lucky enough to get a glimpse, when the gate was
opened for a moment to take the nickel of milk, or loaf of bread, saw
a beautiful little garden, carefully tended and filled with exquisite
flowers; but Lady Jane was never fortunate enough to be present on
one of those rare occasions, as they always happened very early, and
when her little yellow head was resting on its pillow; but sometimes,
while she lingered on the sidewalk, near the gate, or under the tightly
closed shutters, she would hear the melodious song of a bird, or
the tinkling, liquid sound of an ancient piano, thin and clear as a
trickling rivulet, and with it she would hear sometimes a high, sweet,
tremulous voice singing an aria from some old-fashioned opera. Lady
Jane didn’t know that it was an old-fashioned opera, but she thought
it very odd and beautiful, all the same; and she loved to linger and
listen to the correct but feeble rendering of certain passages that
touched her deeply: for the child had an inborn love of music and one
of the most exquisite little voices ever heard.
Pepsie used to close her eyes in silent ecstasy when Lady Jane sang the
few simple airs and lullabies she had learned from her mother, and when
her tender little voice warbled
“Sleep, baby, sleep,
The white moon is the shepherdess,
The little stars the sheep,”
Pepsie would cover her face, and cry silently. No one ever heard her
sing but Pepsie. She was very shy about it, and if even Tite Souris
came into the room she would stop instantly.
Therefore, little Gex was very much surprised one day, when he went
out on the _banquette_, to see his small favorite before the closed
shutters with Tony in her arms, his long legs almost touching the
sidewalk, so carelessly was he held, while his enraptured little
mistress was standing with her serious eyes fixed steadily on the
window, her face pale and illumined with a sort of spiritual light, her
lips parted, and a ripple of the purest, sweetest, most liquid melody
issuing from between them that Gex had ever heard, even in those old
days when he used to haunt the French Opera.
He softly drew near to listen; she was keeping perfect time with the
tinkling piano and the faded voice of the singer within who with many
a quaver and break was singing a beautiful old French song; and the
bird-like voice of the child went up and down, in and out through the
difficult passages with wonderful passion and precision.
Gex slipped away silently, and stole almost guiltily into his little
den. He had discovered one of the child’s secret pleasures, as well as
one of her rare gifts, and he felt that he had no right to possess such
wonderful knowledge.
“_Ma foi!_” he thought, wiping way a fugitive tear, for the music had
awakened slumbering memories, “some one ought to know of that voice. I
wish Mam’selle d’Hautreve wasn’t so unapproachable; I’d speak to her,
and perhaps she’d teach the child.”
Presently Lady Jane entered, carrying Tony languidly; she said
good-morning as politely as usual, and smiled her charming smile, but
she seemed preoccupied, and unusually serious. With a tired sigh she
dropped Tony on the floor, and climbed up to her chair, where she
sat for some time in deep thought. At length she said in an intensely
earnest voice: “Oh, Mr. Gex, I wish I could get inside that gate some
way. I wish I could see who it is that sings.”
“Vhy, my leetle lady, it’s Mam’selle Diane vhat sings so fine.”
“Who is Mam’selle Diane?”
“Mam’selle Diane is the daughter of Madame d’Hautreve vhat live all
alone in the leetle shut-up house. Madame and Mam’selle Diane, they
are _noblesse_, of the nobility. Vell, you don’t know vhat is that.
_Attendez_, I vill try to make you understand.”
“Is it rich?” asked Lady Jane, anxious to help simplify the situation.
“Oh no, no, they are vairy, vairy poor; _noblesse_ is vhat you’re born
vith.”
“Like the spine in the back,” suggested Lady Jane eagerly. “Pepsie says
you’re born with that.”
“No, it’s not that,” and Gex smiled a grim, puzzled smile, and
pushing his spectacles on the top of his head, he wiped his forehead
thoughtfully. “You’ve heard of the king, my leetle lady, now haven’t
you.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” returned Lady Jane brightly.
“They wear crowns and sit on thrones, and Pepsie says there is a king
of the carnival, King Rex.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Gex, rubbing his hands with satisfaction, “and
the king is vay up high over everybody, and all the peoples must honor
the king. Vell, the _noblesse_ is something like the king, my leetle
lady, only not quite so high up. Vell, Mam’selle’s _grandpère_ vas a
noble. One of the French _noblesse_. Does my leetle lady understand?”
“I think I do,” returned Lady Jane doubtfully. “Does she sit on a
throne and wear a crown?”
“Oh, no, no, no, they are poor, vairy poor,” said Gex humbly, “and
then, my leetle lady must know that the _comte_ is naiver so high up as
the king, and then they have lost all their money and are poor, vairy
poor. Once, long ago, they vas rich, oh, vairy rich, and they had one
big, grand house, and the carriage, and the fine horses, and many,
many servant; now there’s only them two vhat lives all alone in the
leetle house. The _grandpère_, and the _père_, all are dead long ago,
and Madame d’Hautreve and Mam’selle Diane only are left to live in the
leetle house, shut up behind that high fence, alone, alvay alone. And,
my leetle lady, no one remembers them, I don’t believe, for it is ten
year I’ve been right in this Rue des Bons Enfants, and I naiver have
seen no one entair that gate, and no one comes out of it vairy often.
Mam’selle Diane must clean her _banquette_ in the dark of the night,
for I’ve naiver seen her do it. I’ve vatched, but I have seen her,
naiver. Sometime, when it is vairy early, Mam’selle Diane comes to my
leetle shop for one dime of orange for Madam d’Hautreve, she is vairy
old and so poor. Ah, but she is one of the _noblesse_, the genuine
French _noblesse_, and Mam’selle Diane is so polite vhen she come to my
leetle shop.”
“If I should go there early, very early,” asked Lady Jane with
increasing interest, “and wait there all day, don’t you think I might
see her come out? You might, my leetle lady, and you might not. About
once in the month, Mam’selle Diane comes out all in the black dress and
veil, and one little black basket on her arm, and she goes up toward
Rue Royale. Vhen she goes out the basket it is heavy, vhen she comes
back it is light.”
“What does she carry in it, Mr. Gex?” asked Lady Jane, her eyes large
and her voice awe-stricken over the mysterious contents of the basket.
“Ah, I know not, my leetle lady. It is one mystery,” returned Gex
solemnly. “Mam’selle is so proud and so shut up that no one can’t find
out anything. Poor lady, and vhen does she do her market, and vhat do
they eat, for all I evair see her buy is one nickel of bread, and one
nickel of milk.”
“But she’s got flowers and birds, and she plays on the piano and
sings,” said Lady Jane reflectively. “Perhaps she isn’t hungry and
doesn’t want anything to eat.”
“That may be so, my leetle lady,” replied Gex with smiling approval,
“I naiver thought of it, but it may be so—it may be so. Perhaps the
_noblesse_ don’t have the big appetite, and don’t want so much to eat
as the common people.”
“Oh, I nearly forgot, Mr. Gex, Pepsie wants a nickel of cabbage,” and
Lady Jane suddenly returned to earth and earthly things did her errand,
took her _lagniappe_, and went away.