happened. To keep up the Russian idea, Lee wrote two postals and sent
them to St. Petersburg to be mailed. Uncle saw the Russian stamps and
knew Lee's writing, and he asked me to kindly tell him how Mrs. Braytree
came to see a man who was in Russia in Havre. Edna said weakly that it
must have been a joke, and Uncle shook his watch and held it to his ear
that way he always does when he's dangerous, and said he was in no mood
for any of Lee's jokes. He looked very severely at me and said that Lee
was a scalawag, and that I ought to be ashamed of myself for having him
around.
Mrs. Clary will be back to-morrow, and we're very glad, for Uncle is
awful peppery and tartary, and says "Hum!" when we least expect it. Edna
sent Mr. Chopstone a _petit-bleu_, asking him please not to ask us to
go anywhere to-night. Mr. Edgar sent me some violets, but I had time to
give them to the chambermaid before Uncle came in. If I only get a
chance, I shall ask Mrs. Clary to declare that M. Sibilet's mother _is_
his wife, even if she knows it's a lie. It doesn't seem possible that
Uncle could really care for Mrs. Clary; but he's so cross if she talks
to any one else that I almost wonder if he doesn't. Edna is all tired
out, and says she will cry if Uncle tells her again that any man isn't
the man to make any girl happy. She says she likes men, and she thinks
that they all make her happy. She wanted to go to the Chatelet in a
_baignoir_, and she was wild to go to the opera in anything.
We talk Italy and mark Brittany every chance we get, but Uncle says
"Hum!" to Italy the same as he does to everything else these days. I'm
sure I don't see what we'll do if he takes the rest of Europe as hard as
he does this much. But of course I don't mean that we're not having a
lovely time, and we never forget for a minute how kind he was to bring
us.
_Next day._
Oh, it has been awful! How can I write it all!
You see, Uncle has a little balcony, and the sun came out, so he did,
too, this morning, on his little balcony. And he saw Mrs. Clary being
brought back in an automobile by M. Sibilet and two French officers. Of
course Harry was there, too, but that didn't mend matters any. In
looking over, Uncle's glasses fell to the ground, and they were his
comfortable ones with the rubber round the nose, and that part broke,
too. Edna was taking a bath, and I had to stand the brunt of the whole.
Uncle told me not to dare to fancy for a minute that he cared who Mrs.
Clary went about with; but he did wish for the credit of America that
she would steer clear of men like Sibilet. He was much put out over the
French officers, too, and said that if he was a French officer he'd go
and walk around Alsace until he came to his senses. While he was talking
he knocked the water-pitcher over, and then Edna was ready to dress; so
he went away while I sopped up the floor.
Mrs. Clary came in right afterward. She has had a splendid time, and she
says she doesn't care what relation the old lady is so long as she can
have them for friends. She has had no end of fun since she came from
Havre, and she says it's a shame about Uncle. She went to a beautiful
lawn-fete at a countess's, and she says I mustn't worry over Lee and
Uncle. She rode horseback, too, and drove with a coach, and she says
Edna must remember that Uncle is always peculiar and doesn't mean half
he says. She went to two dinner-parties, and no one would believe that
she was Harry's mother. She says I ought not to be exasperated over
anything, because nothing in the world can be so exasperating as having
a son with a moustache when you don't look thirty-five, and that she
doesn't let _that_ worry _her_. M. Sibilet is going to give a dinner for
her at the Ritz, and she's going to get a lace dress all in one piece,
and she says it was she who told Mr. Edgar that we were coming from
Rouen, and that Betty Burleigh is considered very fast, and that it
won't take long for her to settle Uncle. I'm sure I hope so with all my
heart; but I don't believe he'll like the idea of the dinner-party much.
Mrs. Clary says Mme. Sibilet's chateau is a perfect castle, and that one
of the French officers in the automobile was a duke. She says we must be
patient, and Uncle will get used to the Continent, just as all American
men do. She says they never take to it like women, though. The other
French officer was in the ministry once, and counts more than any duke.
Mrs. Clary is always so sweet and comforting, and she is such a nice
chaperon, because she always has men enough herself never to be
spiteful.
Mr. Chopstone sent Edna back a _petit-bleu_ that he had the box at the
opera, and what should he do about it. Mrs. Clary says for us to go. She
says she'll take care of Uncle, for she wants to straighten out her
accounts, and she can just as well straighten him out at the same time.
She gave me a long letter from Lee that he left with her, and she told
Edna to go and have a nice walk with Harry, and she'd tell Uncle they
were both asleep in their rooms. I declare, it's good to have her back.
I feel as if a mountain was lifted off me, and on to her. She says you
never dreamed of such fun as she's had out there at Neuilly, and that
it's quite absurd--my worrying over little things like Lee and Uncle.
She talked so much that I grew quite light-hearted, and had early dinner
and went off to the--
I'll have to write the rest to-morrow. A boy says Uncle wants to speak
to me.
_Next day._
I do believe Lee knows better how to manage Uncle than all of us put
together!
When Uncle sent for me, I saw right off that Mrs. Clary hadn't gotten
him anywhere near all smoothed out. He looked awfully vexed, and he
told me he was done with Paris and he was going to clear out at once. He
said he knew that Edna and I wanted to go to Italy, but, unfortunately,
he couldn't see it himself in that light. Then he paused and said "Hum!"
and I waited. After a little he said that he'd happened to run across
two or three things lately that had rather interested him in Brittany,
and how would I like to go there. I was almost stunned at the success of
Lee's scheme, and I was so happy that I suddenly felt as if I wanted
Mrs. Clary and Edna to be happy, too, and I threw my arms right around
his neck and said: "Oh, _Uncle_, let's go off together--just you and
me--and have a real good time together, all by ourselves. Will you?"
I must have done it _very_ well, for Uncle's face smoothed out at once,
and he told me that he'd been meaning to give me Aunt Jane's watch ever
since she died, only that it needed a new spring, and he never could
remember to take it to the jeweler's. His face clouded some later, and
he shook his head and said he wished he felt more security as to Mrs.
Clary and Edna; but then he crossed his legs the other way, and said we
only had one life to live, and could I be ready to start by day after
to-morrow. I said that I was sure I could, and he said "Hum!" very
pleasantly, and I went to my own room and told Mrs. Clary. She was so
pleased; she says I am a saint, and that it's too bad for me to miss
the dinner. She is going to wear her pink pearls, and she says that she
will try to telegraph Lee.
I will confess that my heart sinks a little bit from time to time when I
think of trying to bear Uncle all alone for I don't know how long; but I
have great faith in Lee, and I know that he'll be somewhere along the
coast, and that will be a comfort.
Uncle has been out and bought a Gaelic grammar and the history of the
Siege of La Rochelle, for he says he wants to have some intelligent
conception of what he sees. He wants me to learn the grammar, and he
says, where he sees to everything, he should think I could do a little
trifle like that for him once in a while. When he put it that way, I
thought I must try; but, oh, heavens! you ought to see that grammar!
I will write again as soon as I can. Harry is going to take us all to
the Cafe aux Fleurs for tea.
Lovingly,
YVONNE.
VII
My Dearest Mama: We are _en route_! We left Paris at the cheerful hour
of 7 A.M. yesterday morning. No one was up, and there was another train
at half-past nine, but Uncle said that, considering the work that lay
before us, we had better not begin by dawdling. I do think there is a
happy medium between rising at five and "dawdling," but of course I
didn't tell him so.
Edna sat up in bed and kissed me good-by. She and Mrs. Clary looked upon
me as a cross between the saver of the situation, and a burnt offering
on Uncle's altar; but they were all happy, and I didn't care--much.
Uncle mapped out the route, and, as a result, we got down at Chartres
about half-past nine. He put the baggage in _consigne_, and then looked
about with the air of a charger who sniffs the battle afar. I stood
beside him, feeling like Mazeppa just before they let the horse loose.
The outlook from the station is not very attractive, and the first thing
that Uncle said was that he didn't believe it was worth while stopping
at all, and that he had a good mind to go on with the train; but just at
that instant the train went on by itself, so we did not need to discuss
the subject.
You see there is a high ridge that runs in front of the station, and
Chartres is on the other side. Nearly all the towns here seem to be
quite a little ways from the railway stations. Mr. Edgar says it's
because the railroads run after their passengers in Europe instead
of running over them, as they do in America. Uncle says it's very
inconvenient, anyhow, and he pulled his hat down hard and said,
"Well, let's have a look at the cathedral, anyway."
So we stormed the ridge forthwith, and spread down into the flat country
beyond. As we descended the slope, Uncle began to be glad he had come.
Chartres is very modest and mainly one story high, so the Cathedral
towers aloft in a most soul-satisfying manner. Uncle said it was
"Something like." I was ever so glad that he felt so because he said in
Beauvais that something he had read had led him to expect that the
cathedral there would be big enough to hold the Bartholdi Statue of
Liberty in one of its niches, and of course he was horribly
disappointed, as a consequence.
We walked straight to the cathedral, and it was so big that Uncle
thought we had better each take one side and meet behind, "so as to save
time and not miss anything." I acquiesced, because I mean to keep him
good-tempered, if keeping good-tempered myself and acquiescing will do
so.
We started "fair" in front of the middle front door, and I could hardly
keep a straight face as we walked promptly and solemnly off in opposite
directions. The cathedral is enormous and just covered with carving, and
I was only part way down the side when I saw Uncle coming around the
corner, swinging his umbrella in the briskest sort of manner. He looked
absolutely disgusted when he saw me, and said in the most injured tone
imaginable, "You must have been stopping to look!"
He wouldn't hear to my continuing my tour of circumnavigation, so we
went inside at once, and there I held the guide-book and read the
explanation while he kept up a running contradiction of everything I
read. I don't see the good of Uncle's carrying a guide-book, for he
says they needn't suppose he doesn't know better than most of it.
There is a wonderful carved marble screen around the altar, and a sacred
statue with a yellow satin dress on; but being inside made Uncle want to
be outside right away, so we left very quickly, and then he studied the
Baedeker just long enough to let me notice how all the Roman noses on
the kings and saints outside had been turned into Eskimo noses by the
rains of centuries; and then he suddenly shut it, and said we would go
right straight off then and there and see the famous enamels that Diane
de Poitiers gave Henry II. He explained to me that this wasn't the
English Henry II, but the French Henry II, and then he asked me which
of us had the luggage-checks, and if I had noticed whether the train
went at eleven or half-past. I must say it is like doing multiplications
in your head to travel with Uncle, but of course I enjoy it, and the
walk to St. Peter's Church was very pleasant, through quaint streets and
along by little canals like those at Gisors.
The church was open, and open in more ways than one, for they were
tearing up the whole floor to put in a furnace and grave-stones and
pick-axes were leaning up against the columns everywhere. There wasn't a
soul to be seen, and Uncle was so happy to be able to poke about
unconcierged for a while that I sat down and let him desecrate around
with his cane until he came to with a start and asked me what I supposed
we came to Chartres for, anyway. I got up at that, and we went to look
at the enamels, which are in behind a locked balustrade and have
curtains hung in front of them besides. We had to get a woman to unlock
the gate and draw the curtains aside and explain which enamel was which
Apostle; and uncle was very much put out over their being apostles at
all. I don't know what he expected in a church, but he said he never
thought about the church; he only thought about Diane de Poitiers. He
says he doesn't think it was in good taste her having anything to do
with the apostles, and then he read in the book again and found he'd
made a mistake, and it was the king who gave them to her, and not she
who gave them to the king, and that used him all up, and he said he
wished that he had never come.
I saw that we should have to have something to eat right off, so I said
I was hungry and Uncle said that was just like a woman, but to come on.
We found a small restaurant and had a very good lunch, and then Uncle
said if I felt satisfied he would take it as a personal favor if we
could go on to Dreux. I do wish he wouldn't put everything just that way
when I really haven't done anything; but he looked at his watch and
found that the time before when he had looked at it he had looked at it
wrong and that we had barely ten minutes to make the train. As a matter
of fact, the train was going then, but they don't go until ten minutes
after in France, so when you miss a train you always have ten minutes
left to make it. We took a cab, and Uncle made the man understand that
if he hurried it would pay; so we galloped madly over the ridge and just
got aboard in time to learn that Uncle had left his cane in the cab and
that we'd forgotten our luggage in _consigne_.
Of course the ride was rather gloomy, because there was almost no way to
lay the blame on me; but after a while Uncle asked me if I really ever
did see such a rank idiot as M. Sibilet, and he felt better after that.
We reached Dreux about two o'clock, and I telegraphed back about the
luggage while Uncle looked up a train for Argentan and set his watch by
the railway time. He told me that the train that he had decided on left
at 3:04 and that we could make it and see the mausoleum "easy." I never
contradict Uncle, because it doesn't do any good and does upset him
awfully, so I went with him to get the cab, and wondered how long a
mausoleum usually took to examine.
[Illustration: Dreux]
It seems that there are no cabs in Dreux!
I thought that that would end the mausoleum, but Uncle merely swept his
eyes over the prospect and said we'd have to walk, and walk pretty
prompt. It was 2:10, and we walked fast. The mausoleum is on top of a
hill, and Uncle said we could catch our breath after we got to the top.
We never spoke a word going up. I knew that I was too young to die of
heart-disease, so I didn't care, if he didn't.
It was a terrible climb, but we reached there at 2:32. It's the
mausoleum of the Orleans family, and is modern. There is a concierge who
takes you around, and we followed him, Uncle with his watch in his hand
and going on like this: "2:40--tomb of the king's mother, eh? Fine old
lady! 2:41--tomb of the Duc d'Aumale; good face, handsome decorations on
his bosom, stained-glass windows--all made at Sevres, eh? 2:43--" etc.
You can imagine!
But what you can't imagine is the sublime and peaceful beauty of all
those exquisite marble people sleeping there under the slanting rainbow
sun-rays of the magnificent windows. They affected me so deeply that,
in spite of Uncle, I could hardly keep back the tears. They didn't seem
living and they didn't seem dead; I don't know what they were
like--spirits made visible, perhaps. The Duchesse d'Orleans has her arm
stretched across, so that it touches her husband, who was the eldest son
of Louis Philippe. The king himself stands upright in the midst of them
all, and Queen Marie Amelie kneels at his side in a beautiful pose. Two
precious little babies are sculptured together on one tomb, and all the
while we were going about, the place resounded with the echoes of the
chisels that were preparing a place for the Prince Henry who was killed
in Africa.
I could have stayed there hours, wrapped up in the mystery and wonder of
it all, but Uncle fell down some steps while he was looking at his
watch, and we departed forthwith. He said we must walk fast, and so
again we walked fast. Of course it was easier, though, going down-hill,
and I said, when we were near enough not to be anxious any more, "It was
worth seeing, wasn't it?" To which Uncle replied: "Yes, if you enjoy
that kind of thing; but all I could think of was the idea of spending
such a lot of money on statues and then not having any cabs at the
depot."
There was no time to get anything more to eat at the moment, so I just
held my tongue until we were safely on the train again.
We reached Argentan at 6:15 and I felt as if I'd been running Uncle,
or, rather, running with Uncle, for a month.
The next morning we were called at seven, and I really thought that I
could not get up at first; but, I made it at the third try, and Uncle
and I were out "seeing Argentan" at eight. At half-past he declared that
there was really nothing to see, so we went to the _gare_, and he bought
a Paris "Herald." As we were sitting there waiting for the 8:04 train to
Couliboeuf, in came Elfrida Sanders and her sister with bicycles. I was
_so_ astonished, and Uncle was rather pleased, too. They are doing
Normandy on wheels, and they have their tools and a kodak and a small
set of toilet-things and four clean collars all tied on to them.
Elfrida says they've had a lovely time--only broken glass once, and rain
two days. The sister is going to write a book and call it "Two on a
Trot." I think that's a funny name for a bicycle story. Uncle said to
call it "Two on a Tire"; but you know how stupid Elfrida is, and so she
said, "Oh, but it's not a tandem." They were going to Couliboeuf, too,
but we couldn't go together because they were traveling third-class.
Elfrida says they are seeing Europe nicely on less than a dollar a day,
and Uncle said "Great Scott!"
[Illustration: "Elfrida says they are seeing Europe nicely on less than
a dollar a day, and Uncle said 'Great Scott!'"]
While we were on the train it began to rain and then it poured. Uncle
became very gloomy and said that is just what we might have expected.
I didn't expect rain, and I didn't see why I should have expected it,
so I only nodded. Uncle didn't like my nodding, and said I shouldn't
take such a pessimistic view of life at my age. While he was talking I
suddenly remembered the umbrella and asked him where it was, and he had
left it in Argentan! Then there was no more conversation.
[Illustration: Falaise]
We had to change cars at Couliboeuf, and we reached Falaise about noon.
Elfrida and her sister got right on to their wheels and bumped gaily
away over the cobblestones at once. The rain was over and the sun was
shining, but Uncle said he had lost all faith in France and wanted to
buy another umbrella the very first thing. We went to a store, and he
said to buy a cheap one, as I would be sure to lose it. I asked for a
cheap one, but the woman was quite indignant and said that she did not
keep any cheap umbrellas--that the lowest she had was two francs--forty
cents. I had to translate it to Uncle, and he was so amused that he
bought one for three francs and gave a franc to her baby that was tied
in a high chair by the window.
Then we took a cab to the castle and paid the man at the entrance and
let him go. There is a lovely sloping road that follows the curve of the
outer wall up to the summit of the hill, and we forgot how tired we were
in thinking how pretty it was. These old castle enclosures are all so
big. This one contains a college at one end, and then there is quite a
wood which you must walk through before you come to the castle itself at
the other end.
The castle is wonderful. It is splendid and big and old and strong and
Norman. It is built out of the red rock, and it has oubliettes and wells
and pits and towers and everything of the kind that heart could wish to
see. We saw the room where Prince Arthur was imprisoned for seven years
and the room where William the Conqueror was born. It's a very little
room in which to have had such a wonderful thing happen.
[Illustration: "Paid the man at the entrance and let him go."]
Uncle enjoyed the castle immensely; he took the deepest interest in
every inch of it, and when the concierge showed us the window from which
Robert the Devil first saw Arlette, he planted himself firmly inside it
and I almost thought that he was going to stay there forever. My feet
ached so that I was glad enough to lean up anywhere for a minute, and
I honestly believe that it was ten before he moved. Then he gave himself
a little shake and said: "Well to think of owning this place, and being
able to stand in a window as high up as that one, and then to look down
as far as that well is, and then only to need to say, 'Bring her up!'
and to know she'd got to come! Great Scott! No wonder their son
conquered England. I'm only surprised that he didn't wipe Europe off the
face of the continent!" Then he shook his head for quite a little while,
and we got under way again and went to Talbot's Tower.
[Illustration: "The coming down was awful"]
It's high, and Uncle wanted to climb it. I didn't mind his climbing it,
but he wanted me to climb it, too, and some one was ringing the bell,
so the concierge had to leave us and go back before anything was
settled. Uncle said it was rather hard when he was doing so much to try
and finish me up (he meant "finish me off," I think), for me to be so
lukewarm about being finished so I started in to climb, although my
knees felt like crumpled tissue-paper. [1]The steps were so worn that it
was awful work and Uncle would go up as far as anyone could. He had the
umbrella and I had the candle and often we had to step two and even
three steps at once. When we came to the place where the steps ended,
he stood and peeked out of a window (imagining himself Lord Talbot, I
reckon--) and then we started back. The coming down was awful,--I was
honestly frightened. Uncle went first and I stepped on his coat twice
and spilt candle-grease on his hat. Uncle found it easier coming down
than going up, and it wasn't until we reached the bottom that we
discovered that the reason why was because he had left the umbrella
behind and so had two hands to hold on by. I said, "Never mind, it only
cost sixty cents"; but he was not to be comforted, and said bitterly,
"You forget the franc that I gave her baby." I would have gone back for
it, but I felt so hot and tired.
[1] The author begs the reader's lenient consideration as to
this description of Talbot's Tower. The story was written
from notes taken five years ago, since which time the tower
has undergone a thorough restoration.
We came to Caen this noon, and went to bed, and I don't believe we shall
ever get up again. Uncle said that with my kind permission he would
suggest that I should not disturb him, and heaven knows that I have no
desire to. I telegraphed Mrs. Clary about mail, and then I went to sleep
and I slept until just now.
I never was so near dead in all my life; but you mustn't think for a
minute that I'm not having a lovely time, for I am, and it was so kind
of Uncle to bring me. Now good-by, and with much love,
Yours,
YVONNE.
VIII
UNCLE JOHN PARALYZED
"Come in! Come on! Well, don't you hear? Can't you understand any--Oh,
it's you, child. I thought it was one of those darned waiters.
"Sit down; pull up a chair by the bed. It's so long since I sent for you
that I just about thought that you were not coming. I suppose you were
surprised at my sending for you; but it was the only way to do. It's a
hard thing to break to you, Yvonne; but you'd have to know in the
course of the day, and I always do everything right off that I've not
decided to wait and see about. Now don't look frightened, my dear;
nobody's _dead_--it's only that I'm paralyzed!