ALAIN'S TUTOR
IT was three months later.
Life in the little French village to Adrienne was entirely delightful.
She was a good housewife, and though since her aunt's time the
household had been augmented by more maids and one extra outdoor man,
she still found plenty to employ her time. She rode with her husband
very often, helped him in his farming, superintended the Château
gardens, and looked well after the needs of the peasants in the
village. She never neglected Agatha, and would always come away from a
visit and talk with her, the stronger in her faith and love in her Lord
and Master. She had a certain amount of social obligations, for the
neighbourhood had a great liking and respect for her husband, and they
were friendly with all. But neither of them cared for Bridge-playing,
and there were only quiet dinner parties, or garden parties in the
summer by way of entertainment.
Monsieur Dragominsk had quite made himself at home, and he and Alain
seemed always happy together.
Alain was strangely reticent about his lessons. Sometimes Adrienne
tried to discover what tutor and pupil talked about when they were out,
walking or riding together.
Alain would say:
"Oh, we talk. He tells me about Russia, and lots of stories."
And Adrienne had to leave it at that.
Monsieur Dragominsk was very sociably inclined. He soon knew all the
peasants and farmers round and would spend his evenings at the village
inn discussing world-wide topics of interest. He had the power of
impressing and interesting all who listened to him. The only one who
did not seem to fall under his sway was Agatha. They only had one
interview, and that was a short one. Monsieur Dragominsk would never go
near her again.
"A patient little invalid," he would say, "but full of hysterical
fancies and nerves. She looks upon herself as a saint, and tries to
live up to the pose. But there's an artificiality about her to my mind."
He said this in the village inn. The speech was much resented, but
no one seemed able to be angry with the young man, he was so full of
smiles and warning persuasion.
When Adrienne questioned Agatha about his visit, she was silent for
quite five minutes. The happy light died out of her face. Then she
looked at Adrienne with grave steady eyes.
"I wish sometimes I did not see so far into people's souls, Madame."
"But you always seem to find a lot of good in them, Agatha, don't you,
even in our village scapegraces?"
Agatha did not smile.
"Madame, time will show. He is a stranger in thought, as well as
nationality."
"What does he think?" said Adrienne. "I wish I knew, he always agrees
instantly with what the Count and I say, but sometimes there is a look
in his eyes that belies his words."
Agatha was silent. She would say no more. Adrienne had never heard her
say an unkind word of anyone. She always seemed to find good traits in
all. So that her silent attitude towards the young Russian brought back
Adrienne's first feelings of disquietude.
But when she went back to the Château, and met him again, his pleasant
manners and smiling face reassured her. Children were good judges, she
told herself, of a person's sincerity and truth, and Alain seemed happy
and content when with him.
Monsieur Dragominsk spent his off time in Orleans. He had a
motor-cycle, and would often spend his evenings there, returning very
late at night. Adrienne tried hard to be friendly towards him, but he
seemed to her never entirely at ease in her company.
One evening she asked him to dine with them, and after dinner, as they
sat in the hall over the big fire, they began talking a little about
Russia.
"It is extraordinary to me," Guy was saying, "how quickly and deeply
and widely this Bolshevism has taken root. Up till quite lately this
part of France has been particularly free of all Bolshevism and
revolutionary talk. But now it is creeping over the provinces as well
as in the towns. I suppose you, Monsieur Dragominsk, have nothing to
fear from Lenin's tools, but of course you are aware that there is a
great deal of Bolshevist propaganda in Orleans?"
"I believe there is," said the tutor with a serious face; "but I take
good care to steer clear of them. They can do nothing to me. They have
killed all my relatives and taken our lands and possessions. They want
no more from me."
"I suppose," said Guy slowly, "that the peasants get contaminated with
it when they go into the towns. We have been a very contented village
here for many years; but lately discontent seems rife. I have had to
discharge four farm-hands this week. And I came across some pernicious
leaflets in the forge the other day. I taxed your landlord with the
distribution of them. He is a great talker. Tailors generally are. He
was handing them round as I came up, so I asked if I might have some,
and he could not refuse me."
"I have noticed," said Adrienne, "that some of our people are getting
sullen and unfriendly. I wonder why?"
"They seem all under your control," said Monsieur Dragominsk;
"wonderfully so. These French country villages are as ours used to be,
very old-fashioned and feudal."
"Excuse me," said Guy quickly, "we are republican in theory, only
sometimes it is difficult to carry it out in practice. And our peasants
cannot be compared with yours as regards intelligence. They are shrewd
and wide awake and never can be driven by force—only won by persuasion."
"Oh, I know our peasants are little better than the beasts of the
earth," responded the tutor; "but they seem to be waking up now with a
vengeance. And the next generation will produce a new race of men in
Russia."
When Monsieur Dragominsk had taken leave of them, Guy said to Adrienne:
"I don't want to think too much of it, but there's a lot going on in
the village that I don't understand. Pierre says that the men gather
together with shut doors in the inn. I suppose what is going on in
Orleans is affecting them. Two factories there are on strike, and the
gendarmes had to come out last night, I hear. I have never had trouble
with the farm-hands before, and they have been utterly unmanageable
these past few weeks."
Adrienne looked troubled.
The next day she went to see Agatha. She heard from her that the Curé
had gone away for his yearly holiday.
"I wish he were here, Madame; he is generally about the village and
knows all that is going on. There is something evil in our village.
It wants to be discovered and rooted out. I am not one to meddle in
politics, but these Bolshevists are against our Lord, and I wonder the
Christian world does not rise up and exterminate them."
"Why, Agatha, I have never heard you speak so scathingly before."
Agatha's sweet face looked sad and stern.
"I lie here and think, Madame. I know the good God permits evil for
His purposes, but it is His will that we should fight it. I have many
friends in the village and they come and talk to me. Lately some
of them have left off coming. And those that still come have black
thoughts in their hearts. I can read them, and I tell them what I see
through their eyes. They look ashamed, and some slink away, and some
argue. But the tares are springing up amongst the wheat and they are
choking it. I weep at night over what is going on."
"We must try and stop it," said Adrienne firmly.
She went home and talked to her husband.
Guy listened, but said little.
Adrienne playfully shook him by the shoulders.
"Say something, do something! I am beginning to feel again as I did
when Monsieur Bouverie was in the village. As if we are surrounded
by treachery! Several men to-day passed me with no recognition; they
turned their heads the other way and made no response to my greeting.
You are so silent, Guy. I am your wife. Let me into your thoughts."
Guy put his arm round his wife, and drew her to him.
"I never forget, thank God, that you are my wife. Trust me, dearest. I
shall ferret out this poison and get rid of it. But I want to track it
to its source. And I have to move warily."
"Oh, you're very much of a man," laughed Adrienne, tilting her head
back on his shoulder; "you have an overwhelming confidence in your own
discretion, and a very poor opinion of your wife's. But I will not be
depressed. We have weathered through a bad time here, and we'll weather
through again. And I know that you are strong in your decisions, and
that though you move slowly, you move surely."
The next day Guy took his little son out for a ride.
Monsieur Dragominsk had business in Orleans. Guy was often content
to ride along the lanes in silence, letting his boy do most of the
talking, but he did not do this now. He talked to him about the life
that was before him, of the English school he wished to send him to.
And then it was that Alain surprised him:
"Don't you think, Daddy, that as I'm going to be a French Count it
would be better for me to go to French school? England is not so nice
as France, is it?"
"Isn't it?"
"No, it's got a king."
"I suppose that is not right?"
"No, it isn't, is it? America and France are bigger and better
countries than England, and they're Republics."
"You're learning a lot, my boy. Now can you tell why kings and queens
are a mistake?"
"Because nobody ought to be on top of us, and make us bow down to them."
"Then you certainly must never be a Count. That is quite wrong!"
"I suppose it is," Alain said reluctantly; "and in Russia you know, the
Counts used to beat their servants to death. It is only now the poor
people that are happy."
"I sometimes think," said Guy slowly, "that it's a mistake us having
such a big house, when the peasants have such small ones."
"Yes," chimed in Alain eagerly, "and in Russia the poor people live in
castles and the nobles in huts. It's been a turn-about; it's right that
everyone should have a turn."
"Upon my word you're learning fast. Tell me more."
Alain lifted his handsome little head proudly. He was pleased to think
his father admired his cleverness. "Daddy," he said suddenly, "how soon
will I be big enough to leave off saying my prayers with Mother?"
"How big do you think you ought to be?"
"Well, I'm growing fast, and I want to do like men do."
"Don't men believe in God?"
"Not now, do they? We can't believe in what we can't see. It's only
pretending all the time. I don't like to say so to Mother, but you
understand, don't you?"
"I'm afraid I understand only too well, my boy. And is the Bible not to
be believed?"
"It's only a history book about the Jews, isn't it? Nobody thinks
anything of it now."
Guy's face was as calm and still, as if no surge of passion was rushing
through his veins.
"Go on, Alain, talk away I like to hear you. Later on I'll talk too.
Tell me more about Russia. Is it a happy country now?"
"It's getting happier every day, isn't it, Daddy? And one day it's
going to get all the other countries into it, and make them happy too."
"How is it going to do that?"
"I think it's by teaching all the people the right kind of things. I
don't quite know how—Oh, Daddy, do look at that kingfisher?"
Alain had had enough of serious talk, he could not be inveigled into it
again.
Guy brought him home, and sent him up to his bonne; then he went into
the library, and, sitting down in his chair before the fire, gave
himself up to deep thought.
But he said nothing of his thoughts to Adrienne that night. Only he
absented himself after dinner, and spent his evening down at the inn,
where he was considerably enlightened on more points than one.
The next morning, when Monsieur Dragominsk arrived up to teach Alain,
Guy met him in the hall and asked him to come into the library.
Adrienne had been told that Alain was to have a holiday, and at his
request she and he went into the woods together for a morning ramble.
When they came home, Guy met her in the hall. There was that in his set
face that made her see at once that something was amiss.
"Well," he said as he drew her into the library, "I have had somewhat
of a scene here; but I've cleared him out and given him only four
hours' grace. He's like a raving maniac at present, but I think he'll
calm down. I often wonder how it is that I've grown up without an ounce
of French excitability in my brains. I think if I had been a Frenchman,
we should have come to blows. As it was, I yearned to give him a good
thrashing. But he knows he'll have it if he outstays his time."
"Of course you're alluding to Monsieur Dragominsk. I knew you would
find him out. I have never trusted him. What have you discovered?"
"That for once the Soviet has made a mistake in its tool. He is a
bungler and a fool."
"You mean that he is a fraud? No Count at all?"
"He's the son of a schoolmaster. I've been collecting facts about him
for a few weeks past. He's over in France in employed pay of the Soviet
for propaganda. I could have forgiven him if he had not torn down a
child's faith and trust."
"Oh, Guy!—Alain! How horrible! How can we have been so blind and
stupid? But he must have sealed the child's lips. He has been so
unusually silent to me lately."
And then Guy told her of his conversation with his boy.
"I took him for a ride on purpose to pump him. I led him on, and he
fell into the trap and divulged the teaching he has been getting. I
blame myself. You were right, sweetheart; I was too hasty in my choice.
Thank God he is out of this house, and I'll see to it that he leaves
the village to-morrow."
"Is he very angry at being discovered?"
"He threatened and boasted a good deal. Said such places as this ought
not to exist, and that they were out for exterminating them. He made
no attempt to deny his real position, boasted of his success in the
village, and said that he and his sort were going to sweep through the
world making bonfires of the so-called upper classes—and such-like
trash! But imagine him thinking he would live on with us as a tutor
whilst he was turning the village upside-down and flooding it with his
red propaganda! I fancy there's a screw loose; he got almost maniacal
before he left. A very little more will land him in a lunatic asylum."
Adrienne shuddered.
"And we have trusted Alain to him. How awful!"
"It seems to be my rôle in life to unmask villains," said Guy with a
dry smile. "I don't like the job, but I mean to do this thoroughly."
"I hope he won't be revengeful before he goes. He might kidnap Alain.
Every child to them is a future asset for their achievement, I know."
"Keep him with you as much as possible, but Dragominsk is out for more
than Alain."
"And it is he who has been stirring up the peasants. I think we ought
to have discovered him before; but when I talked to him, he pretended
to be entirely against the Soviet. What a traitor he is! Is he sleeping
at the Gaugy's to-night?"
"I can't tell you. I only know that I shall have the police out from
Orleans to-morrow if he doesn't go. I think he'll clear out."
Adrienne was uneasy all the next day. She learnt that Dragominsk had
gone back to Orleans; but as she walked through the village there were
sullen averted faces, and she was glad to get back to the Château. Guy
took the bull by the horns, and in the parlour of the inn held forth
to about seven or eight men on the subject of property and ownership.
Alain was very puzzled at his tutors' sudden disappearance.
His father spoke frankly to him about it.
"I have sent him away, my boy, because he was not a good man, and as I
want you to grow up a Christian gentleman, I want your tutor to set you
a good example. You must try to forget a lot of what he taught you. And
remember, we are all put into this world to serve and please God, and
keep His commandments."
Alain was silent.
When he was saying his prayers that evening, he looked up into
Adrienne's face earnestly:
"Is God a real person, Mother? Does He really see me and want me to
love Him?"
"Yes, Alain, He loves you. He sent you into the world, and He will take
you out of it. There are a lot of people who won't serve God or love
Him, and they pretend to themselves that there is no God. The Bible
calls those people fools, and they are."
Alain seemed impressed. When she had said good night to him, Adrienne
came down into the hall where her husband was seated reading.
She went over to him, and, sitting on a low stool, rested her head
against his knee.
"Do you think God will forgive and overrule our mistake?" she asked.
"Why, of course! It would be a bad look-out for us if He did not. Don't
worry over Alain. He is small and impressionable, and I'm sure your
teaching and training will soon remove the nonsense which Dragominsk
has been filling his head with."
Then he stooped and kissed the little curls against her forehead. He
was very undemonstrative as a rule, but he had his moments of emotion.
"My little wife," he murmured, "what should I do without you? We'll
weather through this. Our peasants are like a flock of sheep. When the
Curé comes back, he'll bring them to their senses. Don't go into the
village for the next few days. Let them quiet down."
Then he added with his whimsical smile:
"And I have learnt my lesson; never to act again without the counsel
and permission of my wife."