One Afternoon
In her surmise as to what would actually occur as the result of her
design, Julie Dupont was not far from the truth.
First Marguerite accepted the reality of her invitation, which Julie
explained she had been asked to deliver, with openly revealed pleasure.
Expressing her thanks to Bettina, Bettina received the impression that
Mrs. Burton must have asked Marguerite, having decided that four would
make a pleasanter number for their expedition than three. Mentioning the
same fact to Mrs. Burton, her presumption was that either David Hale or
Bettina had included Marguerite in the invitation.
She was a little annoyed at first, preferring that one of the Camp Fire
girls should have been selected as her companion rather than Marguerite
Arnot. She could only suppose that Bettina and David Hale would wish to
talk to each other the greater part of the time during their second visit
to Queen Marie Antoinette’s secret garden. But apparently one could not
be sure, as they had chosen to invite Marguerite.
She did not dislike the young French girl, she thought her both talented
and pretty, but not especially interesting, so that with several hours of
each other’s society they might become bored.
Moreover, Mrs. Burton had selfishly wished to rest and dream in the old
garden, since gardens are intended for rest and dreams. And one could
manage to chaperon two such well behaved persons as Bettina and David and
at the same time enjoy one’s own thoughts.
But with Marguerite Arnot as her constant companion, Mrs. Burton beheld
her dreams dissolving into futile conversation.
The following day when David Hale arrived, seeing Marguerite standing
with Mrs. Burton and Bettina and evidently dressed to accompany them,
naturally he expressed no surprise. He may even have been secretly
pleased by the addition of Marguerite’s society.
Never was there a lovelier spring afternoon! And in no place in the world
can the spring be more enchanting than in Paris and the country
surrounding Paris.
Instead of a motor car, David Hale had secured the services of an old
fashioned Paris cab for their expedition. He wished to make the drive to
the Queen’s garden a slow one, as it was not of great length.
First they drove through the town of Versailles. Then they entered the
park near an avenue which led past the Little Trianon. They passed The
Temple of Love, a charming little building formed of columns with a white
cupola and a statue of the Cupid inside. Next they drove slowly about the
hamlet, a cluster of little rustic houses near the Little Trianon, where
Queen Marie Antoinette and her maids, dressed in linen costumes and straw
hats, used to play at making butter and cheese.
Not far from the hamlet, David ordered the cab to halt, then he and
Bettina led the way to search for the secret garden.
It was not so easy to find as they had both supposed. But it was Bettina,
who again first discovered the stone wall and the little secret door
inside it. This afternoon the walls of the garden were covered with
trailing rose vines. Before the little secret door stood the old French
gardener who had formerly eyed Bettina with such disfavor.
He was smiling this afternoon, however, and held the gate key in his
hand.
As the four visitors entered the narrow passage one at a time, they felt
themselves to have entered fairyland.
Inside no stone wall was now to be seen, only a high wall of roses with a
low border of evergreens beneath.
A great variety of trees were in blossom. Swinging from the branches of
one tree to another high overhead were garlands of roses.
It was a garden such as Titania, the Queen of the Fairies, would have
chosen for her habitation.
Forgetting Marie Antoinette, for whom the garden had been originally
created in the days before the unhappy Queen could have dreamed of the
fate awaiting her, Mrs. Burton could think only of Shakespeare’s
beautiful play of “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” In just such trees Ariel
must have swung; through just such winding, sunlit, fragrant paths old
Bottome, the donkey, must have wandered, his great ears hung with
flowers.
During the first quarter of an hour, Mrs. Burton, the two girls and David
Hale, accompanied by the French gardener wandered about the little garden
together, their only conversation repeated exclamations of delight.
Then Mrs. Burton suggested that she would like to sit down for a few
moments. The two girls could continue to walk with David Hale until one
or the other grew tired.
A short time after, Marguerite Arnot came back alone and took a place
beside the Camp Fire guardian.
They were occupying two rustic chairs under a Louisiana cypress tree for
which the gardens of the Little Trianon are famous.
“Please don’t make any attempt to talk to me, Mrs. Burton. I understand
that you would prefer to enjoy the beauty about us in silence and I think
I should also.”
So at first Mrs. Burton made no effort to talk, having many things to
occupy her thoughts beside her own personal concerns.
In the past few weeks it had appeared as if the peace o’ the world, which
was to be wrought out in France was again endangered, not only by
Germany’s bluster, but by a misunderstanding between France and the
United States. But today the news in the papers was again reassuring.
Mrs. Burton was thinking that perhaps after all the details of peace
might be arranged before she sailed for England, when hearing an
unexpected sound, she turned toward her companion. The sound had been a
little like a hastily swallowed sob.
Marguerite Arnot’s eyes were full of tears.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Burton,” she apologized, “Really there isn’t anything
in the world that specially troubles me. I think it is the loveliness of
this little garden that has made me emotional. I was thinking of a queer
jumble of things, of the fact that the woman for whom this garden was
created was executed, and then of myself, an odd combination I
appreciate. I was recalling Miss Lord’s kindness to me and how much I
have enjoyed the past weeks with her. And then I was sorry that the house
in Versailles is soon to be closed and Miss Lord to return to southern
France and her reclamation work. I confess I rather dread going back to
my former life in Paris. As I have lost my old position it may be
difficult for me to find enough sewing to keep me busy now that so many
people are in mourning.”
In a moment forgotten was the garden and the world struggle for peace as
Mrs. Burton, womanlike, became absorbed in the individual personal
problem of the girl beside her. Forgotten also was her own impression
that Marguerite was not interesting and might therefore bore her.
Here was a girl who had her own way to make and was bravely setting about
the task. There was no other human situation which interested Mrs. Burton
one half so much, or gave her the same instinctive desire to be of
service. And this was not only her instinct, but a part of her long Camp
Fire training, first as a Camp Fire girl and later as a guardian.
“But you are not to trouble about your future, Marguerite,” she argued,
although a few moments before no such idea had entered her mind. “For one
thing you may always count on the fact that Aunt Patricia never under any
possible circumstances deserts a friend. Besides, Bettina Graham has a
plan in mind which she has suggested to me and concerning which she has
written her mother. So far she has received no answer, but afterwards I
know she wishes to talk of it with you. Do you see Bettina and Mr. Hale?
I don’t wish them to forget where to look for us.”
A little farther along, near the labyrinth where Bettina had once lost
her way during her first evening alone in the secret garden, Mrs. Burton
and Marguerite at this instant saw the blue of Bettina’s dress shining
between the green leaves of the intervening foliage. Standing over her
and looking down upon her was David Hale.
Mrs. Burton also became aware of the fact that Marguerite Arnot
immediately colored and glanced away. Her sympathy of a few moments
before was now doubled.
What a contrast the lives of the two girls offered, a contrast which
Marguerite Arnot could scarcely fail to appreciate, especially if she had
allowed herself to feel attracted by the young American who had been so
intimate a member of their household for the past weeks.
It was not that Bettina possessed merely the gifts of beauty and
cleverness and a charming nature, Marguerite Arnot might also lay claim
to these. But Bettina had worldly possessions as well, a distinguished
father, a mother who was one of the most fascinating women in Washington,
a younger brother—all adoring her. She had wealth also, perhaps not
wealth as Americans regard it, but certainly what would have been a
fortune to the young French girl.
David Hale was ambitious, never having hesitated to reveal his intention
to fight his way to a foremost position. Between the two girls, if he
should ever care for either one of them, how much more Bettina would have
to offer him!
At the moment of Mrs. Burton’s reflection, David Hale was talking with
great earnestness to Bettina.
“Is it true that you may be leaving Versailles in a few weeks, perhaps
before the Peace Conference is finally ended?”
Bettina nodded.
“Yes, I am going to England with Captain and Mrs. Burton for a visit and
then home. I am glad and sorry; there will never be so wonderful a time
in my life as these weeks of the Peace Conference, and yet I have always
wished to spend a summer in England.”
“Aren’t you sorry to say goodby except to France?” David Hale asked.
Again Bettina laughed.
“Why of course I am, sorry to say goodby to you. But I hope you mean to
come to see us some day in Washington. At least you know my mother is
lovely. And may I continue to wish you luck with your work here at the
Peace Congress. I hope you are accomplishing all you hoped for and that
some splendid new opportunity will come to you when this work is
finished.”
David Hale shook his head.
“No, I am not accomplishing everything I wish to accomplish.” Then
apparently without any connection with his former remark, he suddenly
added:
“I wonder if you would mind telling me how old you are?”
Bettina colored slightly.
“I am eighteen. Is that old enough to begin hiding one’s age? I wonder
why you wish to know at present?”
“Can’t you guess at least something of my reason? Perhaps I shall not
wait to come to see you first in Washington. When the Peace Conference is
ended I too shall have earned a holiday in England!”
Bettina had been looking for the past few moments down upon a bed of
white fleur-de-lis, which were just opening into snow white blooms. Now
she moved away a few steps.
“Suppose we go now and join the others. They may grow weary of waiting.
Mrs. Burton will be interested to know we may see you again in England.
But I shall always remember our meeting in this little garden. Thank you
for bringing me here again now that the winter cold has gone and the
early flowers are in bloom!”
At this moment the old French gardener, appearing in the path before
Bettina and David, with a low bow presented Bettina with a bouquet.
Afterwards, as she came toward them, Mrs. Burton observed Marguerite
Arnot’s eyes travel from Bettina’s flowers to a long study of the other
girl’s face.