Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

CHAPTER XVI.
A CRISIS.
ox understood that this was a hint to hold her tongue rmd
the room She went down to the kitchen, and, once there
in her own domain allowed herself the relief of speaking out
her miud to old Simon. She had already told him a great many
things during the hour he sat every evening cooking his onion
soup and frying the eggs for his
stove.
supper at the corner of the
The aged gardener proved a very safe confidant. lie was as
deaf as a post, but knew how to make up for the answers not
generally to the purpose which he made to the communications
addressed to him, by a play of countenance expressing al-
ternately assent and surprise, in a way winch generally satisfied
hLs loquacious companion. So she abused George to her heart's
content, declared that she was not going to allow Mise Rose
to be snubbed by a good-for-nothing, ill brought-up/arfa of a
Baron, who preferred the society of a half-witted creature like
Benoite to that of his own wife, the most charming girl in the
whole country. This should not go on. She would tell her
parents how ill he behaved to her, and, shaking violently her
saucepan, in which she was making a favorite dish of the coun-
try, called a bouille-abaisse, she, for the first time in her life,
spoilt it. This did not improve her temper, and, whilst waiting
at dinner, she darted angry glances at the unconscious and silent
George.
That daj% as she sat opposite to him at the little table where
they had their meals, Rose could not help now and then raising
her eyes to his face and contrasting its sad and indifferent expression
with the animation and the smiles she had noticed when he
was talking to Benoite.
After dinner, the post, which only reached Belbousquet three
times a week, brought some letters and newspapers to George,
and a note from Madame Lescalle to her daughter, in which she
said that M. Lescalle had taken the horse and chaise for a two
or three days' excursion to see some of his clients and canvass
them in favor of Jacques de Vedelles, and she should therefore
dH.-iy a little her visit. Rose had written two days before to her
mother a letter, in which, without saying anything untrue, she
h;ul managed to make it appear that she was well and happy.
Sin: had dwelt on the charms of the villa, and described how
much 31. de Ve'lelles admired the country. What long walks
they too'.c. She did not say that each went out alone. And then
aised There.on and said how comfortable she made them.
Madame Lescalle, finding all was going on so smoothly,
thought, it better to leave them, for the present, to themselves,
llise Mexle, to whom she showed the letter, was of the same
opinion, and so, to Thercson's great disappointment, no visitors
appeared.
Ever since Rose had seen George talking to Beuoite she had
watched for an opportunity of getting acquainted with the child,
and finding out from her what were the things she spoke of to
M le Baron. This was no easy matter: the girl was indeed, as
Thereson had said, a wild little creature, very difficult to a<
or to detain. After many vain attempts, she happened, one
morning that George was gone in another direction, to find Benoite
sitting on the edge of a well, surrounded by her goats,
which had been drinking, and were now lying at her feet. She
ful, half-eager expression.
Rose having hea.rd of the child's passion for insects and flow-
il provided herself with a magnifying glass, the p
THE NVTAUY'X DAUGHTER.
her work-bag. She gathered a foxglove and looked attentively
tlnounh the class at the inside of the flower, and really aston-
My of what she saw there, exclaimed, " Oh, how
lovely!" upon which the little girl slowly approached, like n
bird who longs to pick up the crumb you throw to .t, but sus-
picious of your intentions, hardly ventures to come near
enough. However, when Rose sat down on the edge of the wt-a.
and filled her lap with thyme, heath, and harebells, and then
peeped into their secret folds, Benoite could no longer resist.
When the glass was applied to her eye, and she saw the wonders
it revealed, a cry of delight broke from her. Catching a ladybird,
she inspected it in the same way, and her delight was
unbounded.
"Monsieur would like to see with that glass eye," she said.
"Will you let him?"
The child's question pained Rose.
" Monsieur often talks to you, I think. Is it always about the
flowers and the insects? "
" Oh, about many others things too."
"What sort of things? Birds and shells, I suppose?
"
Oh, yes, the shells! I hear the noise of the sea when i hold
them to my ear. Have "
you ever heard it?
"No."
"
Monsieur does though, and he can tell what the wind sings
in the branches of the pine trees, and what the swallows say to
each other when they meet in the grove before they fly nsvay
But I have told him things he does not know. That is w.by he
likes to talk to me. 'Benoite,' he says, '
why
is that doud sail
and then I answer that it is carrying
ing so fast across the sky? '
a message from the islands out in the sea up to the tops of
mountains where the snow always lies; and then iie asks
the
me
what the sunflowers are thinking of when they turn :oi -
uju