MONSIEUR ROGER.
Monsieur and Madame Dalize went back into the chateau, and soon
reappeared in walking-costumes. Miette, who was playing in the shadows
of the great chestnut-trees, looked up in surprise.
"You are going out walking without me?" said she.
"No, my child," answered Madame Dalize, "we are not going out to take a
walk at all; but we have to go and make our excuses to Monsieur and
Madame Sylvestre at the farm, because we shall not be able to dine with
them this evening, as we had agreed."
"Take me with you," said Miette.
"No; the road is too long and too fatiguing for your little legs."
"Are you going on foot?"
"Certainly," said Monsieur Dalize. "We must keep the horses fresh to
send them down to meet Roger at the station."
Miss Miette could not help respecting so good a reason, and she resisted
no longer.
When left alone, she began seriously to wonder what she should do during
the absence of her parents, which would certainly last over an hour. An
idea came to her. She went into the chateau, passed into the
drawing-room, took down a large album of photographs which was on the
table, and carried it into her room. She did not have to search long. On
the first page was the portrait of her mother, on the next was that of
herself, Miette, and that of her brother Albert. The third page
contained two portraits of men. One of these portraits was that of her
father, the other was evidently the one that she was in search of, for
she looked at it attentively.
"It was a long time ago," she said to herself, "that this photograph was
made,--ten years ago; but I am sure that I shall recognize Monsieur
Roger all the same when he returns."
At this very moment Miette heard the sound of a carriage some distance
off. Surely the carriage was driving through the park. She listened
with all her ears. Soon the gravelled road leading up to the chateau was
crunched under the wheels of the carriage. Miette then saw an
old-fashioned cab, which evidently had been hired at some hotel in Sens.
The cab stopped before the threshold. Miette could not see so far from
her window. She left the album upon her table, and ran down-stairs, full
of curiosity. In the vestibule she met old Peter, and asked him who it
was.
"It is a gentleman whom I don't know," said Peter.
"Where is he?"
"I asked him into the parlor."
Miette approached lightly on tiptoe to the door of the parlor, which was
open, wishing to see without being seen. She expected she would find in
this visitor some country neighbor. The gentleman was standing, looking
out of the glass windows.
From where she was Miette could see his profile. She made a gesture, as
if to say, "I don't know him;" and she was going to withdraw as slowly
as possible, with her curiosity unsatisfied, when the gentleman turned
around. Miette now saw him directly in front of her in the full light.
His beard and his hair were gray, his forehead was lightly wrinkled on
the temples, a sombre expression saddened his features. His dress was
elegant. He walked a few steps in the parlor, coming towards the door,
but he had not yet seen Miette. In her great surprise she had quickly
drawn herself back, but she still followed the visitor with her eyes. At
first she had doubted now she was sure; she could not be mistaken. When
the gentleman had reached the middle of the parlor, Miette could contain
herself no longer. She showed herself in the doorway and advanced
towards the visitor. He stopped, surprised at this pretty apparition.
Miette came up to him and looked him in the eyes. Then, entirely
convinced, holding out her arms towards the visitor, she said, softly,--
"Monsieur Roger!"
The gentleman in his turn looked with surprise at the pretty little girl
who had saluted him by name. He cast a glance towards the door, and,
seeing that she was alone, more surprised than ever, he looked at her
long and silently.
Miette, abashed by this scrutiny, drew back a little, and said, with
hesitation,--
"Tell me: you are surely Monsieur Roger?"
"Yes, I am indeed Monsieur Roger," said the visitor, at last, in a voice
full of emotion. And, with a kindly smile, he added, "How did you come
to recognize me, Miss Miette?"
Hearing her own name pronounced in this unexpected manner, Miss Miette
was struck dumb with astonishment. At the end of a minute, she
stammered,--
"Why, sir, you know me, then, also?"
"Yes, my child; I have known and loved you for a long time."
And Monsieur Roger caught Miette up in his arms and kissed her
tenderly.
"Yes," he continued, "I know you, my dear child. Your father has often
spoken of you in his letters; and has he not sent me also several of
your photographs when I asked for them?"
"Why, that is funny!" cried Miette.
But she suddenly felt that the word was not dignified enough.
"That is very strange," she said: "for I, too, recognized you from your
photograph; and it was only five minutes ago, at the very moment when
you arrived, that I was looking at it, up-stairs in my room. Shall I go
up and find the album?"
Monsieur Roger held her back.
"No, my child," said he, "remain here by me, and tell me something about
your father and your mother."
Miette looked up at the clock.
"Papa and mamma may return at any moment. They will talk to you
themselves a great deal better than I can. All that I can tell you is
that they are going to be very, very glad; but they did not expect you
until the evening. How does it happen that you are here already?"
"Because I took the first train,--the 6.30."
"But your telegram?"
"Yes, I sent a despatch last night on arriving at Paris, but I did not
have the patience to wait for an answer. I departed, hoping they would
receive me anyway with pleasure; and I already see that I was not
mistaken."
"No, Monsieur Roger," answered Miette, "you were not mistaken. You are
going to be very happy here, very happy. There, now! I see papa and
mamma returning."
The door of the vestibule had just been opened.
They could see Peter exchanging some words with his master and mistress.
Then hurried steps were heard, and in a moment Monsieur Dalize was in
the arms of his friend Roger. Miss Miette, who had taken her mamma by
the arm, obliged her to bend down, and said in her ear,--
"I love him already, our friend Roger."
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