“It is about Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle,” she said, “up at the château. Soldiers have visited the place and they have broken the furniture and torn the beautiful carpets and the curtains: why, I know not. They have also called Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle traitors and aristos, and they have seized Monsieur and dragged him away from his home. By a miracle, M’sieur Amédé, a miracle wrought by the bon Dieu himself, Madame and Mademoiselle were able to escape out of the château before those awful soldiers came. I know that they are safe, but—”
“How do you know that, Mam’zelle Fleurette?” Amédé asked also in a whisper.
“Because, M’sieur Amédé,” she replied, “there is a mysterious personage working for the safety of Madame and Mademoiselle, under the direct guidance of the good God. I feel quite sure that Monsieur will also presently be saved through him.”
“A mysterious personage, Mam’zelle Fleurette?”
“Yes, a direct messenger from heaven. He has come down to earth in the guise of an old faggot-carrier. He looks old and decrepit and toil-worn, but when he speaks his voice is like that of an archangel, and if he looks at you his eyes give you the strength of giants and celestial joy.”
“But, Mam’zelle Fleurette—”
“His voice spoke to me this afternoon, M’sieu’ Amédé. All it said to me was that papers and valuables were behind the panel in Madame’s room. At that time I knew nothing about the soldiers. I had seen them but did not know that they were going to the château to arrest Monsieur and Madame and Mademoiselle Rose. Nevertheless when that voice spoke to me, I felt I must go over to the château as quickly as may be.”
“Why did you not send for me then, Mam’zelle Fleurette?”
“I seemed to be in a hurry, impelled to run along as fast as I could. So I went by the mountain track. When I arrived at the château, the soldiers had been there some time. They had turned the place topsy-turvy, scared the servants and smashed and torn up everything, leaving nothing but the walls intact. It seemed as if a great tempest had swept by and wrecked everything. Monsieur was under arrest and Madame and Mademoiselle had gone. No one knew whither. Then suddenly I remembered that mysterious voice: I found my way to Madame’s room, and I found the panel, behind which Madame used to hide her household books and her money. I had often watched her doing this when I was a child. I tried to remember how to make the panel work and the good God helped me. And behind the panel I found Madame’s papers and her money, and a small box which, I am sure, has precious things in it, or it would not have been there.”
“Then what did you do, Mam’zelle Fleurette?” Amédé gasped under his breath, his none too sharp wits slowly taking in the details of the amazing adventure.
“I just took the wallet, M’sieu’ Amédé,” she replied simply, “and the moneybag, and the box. And here they are.”
She tapped the pockets of her kirtle and made him feel the bulge underneath her shawl.
“Oh, mon Dieu!” he exclaimed fervently.
And then she told him about Bibi, and how frightened she was lest when she returned to Lou Mas she should find him there. Bibi’s sympathies seemed to be all with the soldiers, she explained, and he would for certain make her give up Madame’s papers and valuables to the lieutenant.
“That is why,” she concluded with a return to her first timidity. “I wished to speak with you, dear M’sieu’ Amédé.”
“The Eternal Eve!” It was the first time Fleurette had used an endearing word when speaking to Amédé. Born and bred in this remote corner of Dauphiné, unsophisticated, untutored in the ways of coquetry and cajolery, she knew nevertheless, true daughter of the first mother that she was, that after this he would be mere wax in her hands.
He was!
All that he wanted to know was what he could do for her. Had she asked him to throw himself into the Buëche, he would have done it: but all that she wanted was for him to put her treasures in a safe place, until such time as Madame required them.
“If Bibi knew what I was doing, M’sieu’ Amédé,” she pleaded, “he would order me to give up Madame’s property. But I know that the bon Dieu meant me to take charge of it, or why,” she argued naively, “should He have sent His messenger to me?”
Of course Amédé was only too ready to share the burden of this wonderful secret with Fleurette.
It was wonderful to share anything with this loveliest being in all the world; and the thought that she trusted him more even than her father, was sending him well-nigh crazy with joy.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mam’zelle Fleurette,” he said: “There’s an old tool-shed at the back of our house where all sorts of rubbish are kept. It is an absolute litter now, and the back of it has not been cleared or interfered with for years. But I know of a convenient hole in the flooring, hidden well away in a corner. I’ll put these things there. They’ll be quite safe—Mam’zelle Fleurette, you’ll know where to find them after I’ve gone away, if you want them.”
“After you’ve gone away?”
For the moment she had forgotten. Of course he was going! How could she forget? He was going to join the army—to fight the English—! Perhaps he was never coming back—oh! How could she—how could she forget?
Amédé after the long speech which he had delivered in a whisper—his longest speech on record—had remained silent. The tone of anguish in Fleurette’s voice, just now when
