The Princess Passes Volume 56, Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson [primary phonics txt] 📗

I Detected A Faint Fragrance Of Lavender Lurking In The

Clean Curtains, Or Perhaps It Might Have Come From The Square Of

Ancient Damask Covering The Table, On Which A Meal Was Spread.

 

That Meal Consisted Of Chicken; A Salad Of Pale Green Lettuce And

Coraline Tomatoes; A Slim-Necked Bottle Of White Wine; A Custard With

A Foaming Crest Of Beaten Egg And Sugar; And A Dish Of Purple Figs.

Food For The Gods, And With Only A Boy To Eat It--But A Remarkable

Boy. I Gazed, And Did Not Know What To Make Of Him. He Also Gazed At

Me, But His Look Lacked The Curiosity With Which I Honoured Him. It

Expressed Frank And (In The Circumstances) Impudent Disapproval.

Having Bestowed It, He Nonchalantly Continued His Conversation With

The Plump And Capped Landlady, Who Was Evidently Enraptured With Him,

While I Was Left To Stand Unnoticed On The Threshold.

 

Purely From The Point Of View Of The Picturesque, There Was Some

Excuse For Madame's Preoccupation. The Boy Would Have Delighted An

Artist, No Doubt, Though Our First Interchange Of Glances Gave Me A

Strong Desire To Smack Him.

 

His Panama--A Miniature Copy Of Mine--Hung Over The Back Of His

Old-Fashioned Chair--The One, No Doubt, In Which Napoleon Had Sat To

Eat The _Déjeuner_. Soft Rings Of Dark, Chestnut Hair, Richly Bright

As Japanese Bronze, Had Been Flattened Across His Forehead By The Now

Discarded Hat. This Hair, Worn Too Long For Any Self-Respecting,

Twentieth-Century Boy, Curled Round His Small Head And Behind The Slim

Throat, Which Was Like A Stem For The Flower Of His Strange Little

Face. "Strange" Was The First Adjective Which Came Into My Mind; Yet,

If He Had Been A Girl Instead Of A Boy, He Would Have Been Beautiful.

The Delicately Pencilled Brows Were Exquisite, And Out Of The Small

Brown Face Looked A Pair Of Large, Brilliant Eyes Of An Extraordinary

Blue--The Blue Of The Wild Chicory. When The Boy Glanced Up Or Down,

There Was Great Play Of Dark Lashes, Long, And Amazingly Thick. This

Would Have Been Charming On A Girl, But Seemed Somehow Affected In A

Boy, Though One Could Hardly Have Accused The Little Snipe Of Making

His Own Eyelashes. He Wore A Very Loose-Trousered Knickerbocker Suit

Of Navy-Blue; A White Silk Shirt Or Blouse, Loose Also, With A

Turned-Down Byronic Collar And A Careless Black Bow Underneath. He Had

Extremely Small Hands, Tanned Brown, And On The Least Finger Of One

Was A Seal Ring. My Impression Of This Youthful Tourist Was That In

Age He Might Be Anywhere Between Thirteen And Seventeen, And I Was

Chapter 9 (The Brat) Pg 64

Sure That He Would Be The Better For A Good Thrashing.

 

"Some Rich, Silly Mother's Darling," I Said To Myself. "Little

Milksop, Travelling With A Muff Of A Tutor, I Suppose. Why Doesn't The

Ass Teach Him Good Manners?"

 

This Lesson Seemed Particularly Necessary, Because The Youth Persisted

In Holding The Attention Of The Landlady, Who, With A Comfortable Back

To Me, Laughed At Some Sally Of The Boy's. When I Had Stood For A

Moment Or Two, Waiting For A Pause Which Did Not Come, Although The

Brat Saw Me And Knew Well What I Wanted, I Spoke Coldly: "Pardon,

Madame, I Desire Something To Eat," I Said In French.

 

The Landlady Turned, Surprised At The Voice Behind Her.

 

"But Certainly, Monsieur. Though I Regret That You Have Come At An

Unfortunate Time. We Have Not A Great Variety To Offer You."

 

"Something Of This Sort Will Suit Me Very Well," I Replied, Feeling

Hungrily That Chicken, Salad, Custard, And Figs Were The Things Which

Of All Others I Would Choose.

 

"It Is Most Regrettable, Monsieur, But This Young Gentleman Has Our

Only Chicken, Unless You Could Wait For Another To Be Killed, Plucked,

And Made Ready For The Table."

 

I Shuddered At The Suggestion, And Did Not Hide My Repulsion. "I Must

Put Up With An Omelette, Then, I Suppose I Can Have That?"

 

"At Any Other Time Monsieur Could Have Had Two, If He Pleased, But

To-Day All Our Eggs Have Gone Into This Custard. The Young Gentleman

Ordered His Repast By Telegraph, And We Did Our Best. As For The

Figs, He Brought Them Himself; But If Monsieur Would Have A Cutlet Of

The _Veau_, Or----"

 

"Give Me A Bottle Of Wine, And Some Bread And Cheese. I Do Not Like

The _Veau_," I Said, With The Testiness Of A Hungry Man Disappointed.

As I Spoke, My Eyes Were On The Boy, Who Ate His Breast Of Chicken

Daintily. Pretty As He Was, I Should Have Liked To Kick Him.

 

"Little Brat," I Apostrophised Him Once More, In My Mind. "If He Were

Not A Pig, He Would Ask Me To Accept Half His Meal. Not That I Would

Take It. I'd Be Shot First, So He'd Be Quite Safe; But He Might Have

The Decency To Offer."

 

Worse Was To Come, However. I Had Not Yet Plumbed The Black Depths Of

The Brat's Selfishness.

 

"Certainly, Monsieur; We Have Very Good Cheese," Madame Assured Me

Soothingly. "If Monsieur Would Be Pleased To Step Downstairs."

 

"I Should Prefer To Remain Here," I Replied. "This Is The Room, Is It

Not, Where Napoleon Had His _Déjeuner_?"

Chapter 9 (The Brat) Pg 65

 

"The Same, Monsieur, In Every Particular. But Unfortunately, It Is For

The Moment The Private Sitting-Room Of This Young Gentleman, Who Has

Made Me An Extra Price To Keep It For Himself."

 

The Poor Old Lady Suffered Manifest Distress In Breaking This News To

Me, And Even In My Evil Mood I Could Not Add Intentionally To Her

Pain. As For It Cause, However, He Sat Absolutely Unmoved. I Think,

Indeed, From The Blue Light In His Great Eyes (Which Was Absolutely

Impish), That The Situation Whetted His Appetite. I Did Not Deign

Another Glance At The Little Wretch, As I Went Out, Discomfited, But I

Felt That He Was Grinning At My Back.

 

In A Room Below, I Had A Very Creditable Meal, Which I Should Have

Enjoyed More, Had My Nerves Not Been Jarred To Viciousness. In The

Midst, I Heard Footsteps Running Downstairs, And Presently Outside The

Door Of The _Salle-À-Manger_ The Boy's Voice--Sweet Still With

Childish Cadences, As A Boy's Is Before The Change To Manhood First

Breaks, Then Deepens It.

 

"If He Comes In Here, I Shall Be Inclined To Throw A Rind Of Cheese At

His Head," I Thought; But He Did Not Beard Me In My Den. The Voice

Passed Away, And Presently I Heard Another, Unmistakably That Of A

Woman, Giving Vent To Strange Profanities In Softest Provençal French.

The Speaker Was Apostrophising Some Person Or Animal, Who Was,

According To Her, The Most Insupportable Of Heaven's Creatures; And At

Last, With Calls Upon Martyred Saints, And Cries Of "Fanny-Anny,

Fanny-Anny," There Mingled A Scuffling And Trotting Which Soon Died

Away In The Distance, Leaving Stillness.

 

Soon After, Having Finished My Meal, And Paid My Bill, I Went Out To

Joseph. I Found Him Alone With Finois. The Donkeys And Their Fair

Guardian Had Gone.

 

"Well," Said I, As We Got Upon Our Way, "I Trust You Had An Agreeable

Spell Of Rest? The Lady In The Riviera Hat Looked Promising. If Her

Conversation Matched Her Appearance, You Were In Luck, And Well Repaid

For Taking Your Refreshment Out Of Doors."

 

"Monsieur," Began Joseph, "Have You In English A Way Of Expressing In

One Word What A Man Feels When He Is Both Shocked And Astonished?"

 

"Flabbergasted Might Do, At A Pinch," I Replied, After Deliberation.

 

"Ah, The Good Word, 'Flabbergasta'! It Says Much. It Is That I Am

Flabbergasta By The Young Woman Of The _Ânes_. I Was Taken, I Admit

It, Monsieur, By Her Face, As Was But Natural. And Then I Wished To

Find Out, For The Satisfaction Of Monsieur And Myself, How So Strange

A Cavalcade Came To Arrive Upon The St. Bernard Pass.

 

"I Made Myself Polite. I Spoke With Praise Of The _Ânes_, And Though

My Advances Were Coldly Received At First, At The Very Moment I Would

In Discouragement Have Ceased My Efforts, The Young Woman Changed Her

Chapter 9 (The Brat) Pg 66

Front, And Seemed Willing To Talk. She Would Not Answer My Questions,

Except To Say That She Was Of Mentone, And That She Had Escorted The

Young Gentleman Who Now Employs Her On Several Excursions, A Year Ago,

When He Was On The Riviera. That He Had Sent For Her And The Two

_Ânes_ To Join Him By Rail, Though The Expense Was Great, And That

They Were Travelling For The Young Gentleman's Amusement, And His

Health, As He Had Had An Illness Which Has Left Him Still Thin, And A

Little Weak. From What Place He Had Come, Or To What Place They Were

Bound, She Would Not Say. Her Own Name She Told Me, When I Had Asked

Twice Over, But The Young Gentleman's Name She Would Not Give, Nor

Would She Even Say The Country Of His Birth. It Was When I Brought Up

This Subject That The--The----"

 

"The Flabbergasting Began?"

 

"Precisely, Monsieur. She Abused Me For My Curiosity, And, Oh,

Monsieur, The Words She Used! The Profanities! And At The Same Time

Her Face As Mild As A Pigeon's! She Taunted Me With Being A

Protestant, As If It Were A Black Crime Which Bred Others. Her Name,

If You Would Believe It, Is Innocentina Palumbo--_Innocentina!_ But

Her Tongue! Monsieur, I Listened As If I Had Been Turned To Stone.

And It Was At This Time That The Young Gentleman, Of Whom She Had Told

Me, Came Out Of The Inn. He Wished To Walk, But Innocentina Said That

He Was Already Too Tired, And Before He Knew What Was Happening, She

Had Him In The Saddle On His _Âne_. So They Went Off, And Where They

Will Pass The Night, Their Saints Alone Know, For It Is All But

Certain That They Will Never Get Such Animals As Those Even As Far As

The Cantine De Proz."

 

"They Were Going In Our Direction, Then?" I Said. "We Shall Pass Them

On The Way Presently."

 

"I Do Not Doubt It, Monsieur, Though They Had Half An Hour's Start."

 

"Were The Boy And The Donkey-Woman Alone? No Tutor With Them?"

 

"Tutor, Monsieur? The Poor Young Gentleman Has A Tutor And A Duenna In

Innocentina. I Wish Him Joy Of Her."

 

"I Wish Her Joy Of Him," Said I, Remembering My Wrongs. But Soon I

Forgot Them And All Other Troubles Past And Present, In Surrendering

My Spirit To The Glory Of The