LADY JANE DINES WITH MR. GEX
For some time Lady Jane sat in the doorway, not knowing just what to
do. She was very tired, and at first she was inclined to rest, thinking
that Tiburce would come back and find her there; then when no one
noticed her, and it seemed very long that she had waited, she felt
inclined to cry; but she was a sensible, courageous little soul, and
knew that tears would do no good; besides it was very uncomfortable,
crying behind a mask. Her eyes burned, and her head ached, and she
was hungry and thirsty, and yet Tiburce didn’t come; perhaps they had
forgotten her altogether, and had got into the milk-cart, and gone home.
This thought was too much to bear calmly, so she started to her feet,
determined to try to find them if they were not coming to search for
her.
She did not know which way to turn, for the crowd confused her
terribly. Sometimes a rude imp in a domino would push her, or twitch
her sleeve, and then, as frightened as a hunted hare, she would dart
into the first doorway, and wait until her tormentor had passed. She
was such a delicate little creature to be buffeted by a turbulent
crowd, and had it not been for the disguise of the domino she would
soon have found a protector amongst those she fled from.
After wandering around for some time, she found herself very near the
spot she started from; and, thankful for the friendly shelter of the
doorway, she slipped into it and sat down to think and rest. She wanted
to take off her mask and cool her hot face, but she did not dare to;
for some reason she felt that her disguise was a protection; but how
could any one find _her_ when there were dozens of little figures
flitting about in pink dominos?
While she sat there thinking and wondering what she should do, she
noticed a carriage drive up to the next door, and two gentlemen got
out, followed by a young man. When the youth turned his face toward
her, she started up excitedly, and holding out her hands she cried out
pitifully, “It’s me; it’s Lady Jane.”
The young fellow glanced around him with a startled look; he heard the
little cry, but did not catch the words, and it moved him strangely; he
thought it sounded like some small creature in pain, but he only saw
a little figure in a soiled pink domino standing in the next doorway,
some little street gamin, he supposed, and without further notice he
passed her and followed his companions up the steps.
It was the boy who gave Lady Jane the blue heron, and he had passed her
without seeing her; she had called to him, and he had not heard her.
This was too much, she could not bear it, and withdrawing again into
her retreat she sat down and burst into a passion of tears.
For a long while she cried silently, then she fell asleep and forgot
for a time all her troubles. When she woke a rude man was pulling her
to her feet, and telling her to wake up and go home; he had a stick and
bright buttons on his coat. “A young one tired out and gone to sleep,”
he muttered, as he went on his way.
[Illustration: SHE CRIED OUT PITIFULLY, “IT’S LADY JANE”]
Then Lady Jane began to think that that place was no longer a safe
refuge; the man with the stick might come back and beat her if she
remained there, so she started out and crept along close to the high
buildings. She wondered if it was near night, and what she should do
when it got dark. Oh, if Tante Modeste, Tiburce, or Madelon would only
come for her, or Tante Pauline,—even she would be a welcome sight,
and she would not run away from Raste, although she detested him; he
pulled her hair and teased her, and called her “My Lady,” but still if
he should come just then she would not run away from him, she would ask
him to take her home.
At that moment some one behind her gave her domino a violent pull, and
she looked around wildly; an imp in yellow and black was following her.
A strand of her bright hair had escaped from her hood and fallen over
her back; he had it in his hand, and was using it as a rein. “Get up,
my little nag,” he was saying, in a rude, impertinent voice; “come,
trot, trot.” At first she tried to jerk her hair away; she was so tired
and frightened that she could scarcely stand, but she turned on her
tormentor and bade him leave her alone.
“I’m going to pull off your mask,” he said, “and see if you ain’t Mary
O’Brien.” He made a clutch at her, but Lady Jane evaded it; all the
spirit in her was aroused by this assault, and the usually gentle child
was transformed into a little fury. “Don’t touch me,” she cried; “don’t
touch me,”—and she struck the yellow and black imp full in the face
with all her strength.
Now this blow was the signal for a battle, in which Lady Jane was sadly
worsted, for in a few moments the boy, who was older and of course
stronger, had torn her domino from her in ribbons, had snatched off
her mask, and pulled the hood from her head, which unloosened all her
beautiful hair, allowing it to fall in a golden shower far below her
waist, and there she stood with flashing eyes and burning cheeks,
quivering and panting in the midst of a strange, rude crowd, like a
little wild hunted animal suddenly brought to bay.
At that moment she saw some one leap on to the _banquette_, and with
one well-aimed and dexterous kick send her enemy sprawling into the
gutter, while all the bystanders shouted with laughter.
It was Gex, little Gex, who had come to her rescue, and never did
fair lady cling with greater joy and gratitude to the knight who had
delivered her from the claws of a dragon, than did Lady Jane to the
little horny hand of the ancient professeur of the dance.
For a moment she could not speak; she was so exhausted with her battle
and so overcome with delight that she had no voice to express her
feelings.
Gex understood the situation, and with great politeness and delicacy
led her into a pharmacy near, smoothed her disordered dress and hair,
and gave her a glass of soda.
This so revived the little lady that she found voice to say: “Oh, Mr.
Gex, how did you know where I was?”
“I didn’t, I didn’t,” replied Gex tremulously. “It vas vhat you call
one accident. I vas just going down the Rue Royale, vas just turning
the corner, I vas on my vay home. I’d finished my Mardi-gras, all I
vant of the noise and foolishness, and I vas going back to Rue des Bons
Enfants, vhen I hears one leetle girl cry out, and I look and saw the
yellow devil pull down my leetle lady’s hair. Oh, _bon, bon_, didn’t
I give him one blow!—didn’t I send him in the gutter flying!”—and Gex
rubbed his hands and chuckled with delight. “And how lucky vas I to
have one accident to find my leetle lady, vhen she vas in trouble!”
Then Lady Jane and Mr. Gex turned down Rue Royale, and while she
skipped along holding his hand, her troubles all forgotten, she told
him how it happened that she had been separated from Tiburce, and of
all her subsequent misadventures.
Presently, Gex stopped before a neat little restaurant, whose window
presented a very tempting appearance, and, looking at Lady Jane with a
broad, inviting smile, said, “I should like to know if my leetle lady
vas hungry. It is past four of the clock, and I should like to give my
leetle lady von Mardi-gras dinner.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Gex,” cried Lady Jane, delightedly, for the smell
of the savory food appealed to her empty stomach. “I’m so hungry that I
can’t wait until I get home.”
“Vell, you sha’n’t; this is one nice place, vairy _chic_ and
fashionable, fit for one leetle lady, and you shall see that Gex can
order one fine dinner, as vell as teach the dance.”
When the quaint little old man, in his antiquated black suit, a relic
of other and better days, entered the room, with the beautiful child,
rosy and bareheaded, her yellow hair flying out like spun silk, and her
dainty though disordered dress plainly showing her superior position,
every eye was turned upon him, and Gex felt the stirrings of old pride
and ambition, as he placed a chair with great ceremony, and lifted Lady
Jane into it. Then he drew out his spectacles with much dignity, and,
taking the card the waiter handed him, waited, pencil poised, for the
orders of the young lady.
“If you please,” he said, with a formal bow, and an inviting smile, “to
tell me vhat you prefair.”
Lady Jane frowned and bit her lips at the responsibility of deciding
so important a matter; at length she said, with sparkling eyes and a
charming smile:
“If you please, Mr. Gex, I’ll take some—some ice cream.”
“But first, my leetle lady,—but first, one leetle _plat_ of soup, and
the fish with _sauce verte_, and one leetle bird,—just one leetle bird
vith the _petit pois_—and one fine, good, leetle salad. How vould that
suit my leetle lady?”
“And ice cream?” questioned Lady Jane, leaning forward with her little
hands clasped primly in her lap.
“And after, yes, one _crême à la glace_, one cake, and one leetle bunch
of _raisin_, grape you say,” repeated Gex, as he wrote laboriously with
his old, stiff fingers. “Now ve vill have one fine leetle dinner, my
leetle lady,” he said, with a beaming smile, when he had completed the
order.
Lady Jane nodded an affirmative, and while they waited for their
dinner her bright eyes traveled over everything; at length they rested
on Mr. Gex with unbounded admiration, and she could not refrain from
leaning forward and whispering:
“Oh, Mr. Gex, how nice, how lovely you look! Please, Mr. Gex, _please_
don’t wear an apron any more.”
“Vell, if my leetle lady don’t vant me to, vell, I von’t,” replied Gex,
beaming with sudden ambition and pride, “and, perhaps, I vill try to
be one fine leetle gentleman again, like vhen I vas professeur of the
dance.”