THE SEPARATION
Mother Etienne was much distressed. The unexpected appearance of
this personage, the offer of this huge sum of money, were enough
to excite a woman more worldly-wise than she. Germaine strove to
persuade her mistress to accept the offer.
"But, my dear mistress, think of it--$4,000. It is a fortune.
Don't let it escape you. It is a chance which will never come
again. Think how well Yollande will be cared for. He does not mean
to eat her at that price. Think of a stew costing $4,000. No
indeed, the gentleman will try to keep her well as long as
possible. It will be to his interest not to hurt her. Be sure of
it, she will be as well cared for as she is here, if not better."
Thus they talked all evening.
Mother Etienne, feverishly affectionate, looked at the hen lying
as usual asleep in the chimney corner. She could not make up her
mind to sell her sweet Cinderella. Her affection for Yollande had
increased with the constant care she had needed during so many
long months. Besides, the silky tresses curling like corkscrews,
which Germaine had kept so smooth, had been a source of amusement,
not only to the farm but to the whole neighbourhood.
That night Mother Etienne was much agitated in spite of the hot
drink Germaine had given her. She was haunted by a horrible
nightmare. She seemed to be lying on a bed of banknotes, whilst
the Cochin-China, sitting heavily on her chest, reproached her
bitterly for having handed her over to a stranger in exchange for
a little filthy lucre. Mother Etienne, bathed in perspiration,
seemed to suffocate under her sheets.
At last dawn came, the good woman rose, her heart still terribly
oppressed. Germaine calmed her as best she could with reassuring
words and also with a foaming bowl of hot coffee.
All morning Mother Etienne endured torments.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when suddenly the sound of a
heavy carriage drawn by four horses was heard in the courtyard.
Labric barked with all his might, Coco whinnied loudly, the three
cows all mooed at the same time, and the entire poultry-yard in an
uproar added its piercing and varied tones to the general tumult.
The pigs especially made a great noise.
It was the American's four-in-hand.
He was driving himself, and on his left sat a young and pretty
woman, exquisitely dressed in white.
The newcomers were at once shown into the huge kitchen, which
served also as a reception room. On the hearth burned a small
bundle of scented herbs which filled the whole room with
fragrance. Yollande was sitting in her usual place.
"Well, Madame, have you at last decided to let me have the
curly-haired hen?"
Mother Etienne neither moved nor answered.
"See here, Madame, I offer you $4,000, $6,000, $8,000," and so
saying he took from a red morocco pocketbook in banknotes the sums
he mentioned, and spread them out on the table before the
astonished eyes of Mother Etienne and Germaine.
Mother Etienne still shook her head in refusal.
Germaine, driven wild by this sight, began to exclaim: "Yes,
sir,--yes, Madame. Yes, sir,--yes, Madame," and threw herself into
the arms first of the American, and then of Mother Etienne, who
still remained obdurate.
Miss Booum, taking Mother Etienne's hand, said coaxingly: "You can
safely trust her to me. I will take care of her myself, Madame.
With us she will become famous throughout the world. All the
newspapers will speak of her. From your poultry-yard she will come
into contact with the greatest courts of the world. She will be
petted by Grand Duchesses, and receive hands. Besides all this she
will be in good company and will have plenty to amuse her."
This pleading succeeded in dragging from Mother Etienne the
longed-for "Yes," which, though stifled by emotion, was seized
upon by the American.
The good woman had said "Yes," she had conquered the selfishness
of a mother for two reasons. She did not want to prevent Yollande
from getting on in the world, and also she wished to let Germaine
share this fortune, for it was owing to her that the hen had
become so valuable, and she did not think it right to deprive her
of the benefit.
[Illustration: Miss Booum brings Mother Etienne to the circus
tent.]
"That's all settled, then. Here's the contract," said the
American, "you have only to sign it." And a receipt duly prepared
was handed to Mother Etienne, who in a trembling hand appended her
signature and a flourish. I don't know that she did not even
embellish it with a huge blot of ink.
Then Miss Booum stooped and gently took under her arm Yollande,
who oddly enough made no resistance.
"Oh please, please let me kiss her again," and, tears in her eyes,
Mother Etienne tenderly embraced the Cochin-China.
"You will take great care of Yollande, won't you? You will send me
news of her? Where is she to sleep to-night?"
"Oh, as to that, Madame, would you like to see the place prepared
for her? Come with us. There is room in the carriage and I promise
to have you brought back again at once. The camp is not far from
here, the road is good, the horses fast, and in half an hour at
most you will be perfectly reassured and can return with your mind
at rest."
Mother Etienne, without further thought, still guided by her
tender maternal heart, needed no urging, but followed by the two
Americans, walked with a brisk, firm step towards the carriage.
Suddenly changing her mind, she said:
"Will you just let me change my dress? I can't very well go out
like this."
She went to her room, an idea having entered her head, and soon
returned very neatly dressed with a little basket in her hand.
The steps were adjusted and the three people took their places on
top, whilst Yollande, wrapped in soft woollen covers, was
carefully placed inside, in a basket provided for that very
purpose.
When Germaine saw her mistress start off she would have liked to
go with her, but the farm needed her attention. Besides, Miss
Booum's promise of seats for the next performance quite consoled
her.
The carriage made a curve in the yard, went through the gate, and
soon disappeared, bearing the two new travellers. As Miss Booum
had said, it did not take more than half an hour to reach the
camp, the cobs went so quickly.
On the way Mother Etienne met many acquaintances to whom she waved
a simple but cordial greeting. In most cases the carriage was
already out of sight before they recovered sufficiently from their
astonishment to wave back.
It was a nine days' wonder.