Susan by Amy Walton (websites to read books for free .txt) 📕

clinging tightly on to his hand; but she was tired and worn out, and her wet boots were so stiff and pressed so painfully upon her feet, that at last she stumbled and nearly fell. Monsieur looked down at her with concern.

"Ah!" he said, "the road is rough, and the feet are very small. Voyons! An idea comes to me! Instead of going to Madame your aunt, which is so far, we will go to the house of my sister; it is scarcely ten minutes from here. There I leave you, and go to assure Madame of your safety."

If Susan had not been so worn out with fatigue she would have objected strongly to this plan of Monsieur's, for his sister was a perfect stranger to her, and she would much rather have gone home to Aunt Hannah. But, feeling no strength or spirit left to resist anything, she nodded her head silently and suffered him to lift her gently in his arms and carry her up the steps cut in the cliff. How odd it all was! Confused thoughts passed quickly through her mind as she clung fast to the collar of the greenish coat. How kind Monsieur was! how many steps there were, and how very steep! how heavy she was for him to carry, and how he panted as he toiled slowly up! finally, how her dripping clothes pressed against his neatly-brushed garments and made discoloured patches on them. Would the steps never end? But at last, to her great relief, they were at the top, and Monsieur was once more striding along on level ground, uttering from time to time little sentences in broken English for her encouragement and comfort. They were now in a part of Ramsgate that she did not know at all, quite out of the town, and away from all the tall terraces that faced the sea. The houses were mean and poor, and the streets narrow; now and then came a dingy shop, and in almost every window there was a card with "Apartments" on it. At one of these Monsieur stopped and rang the bell. The door was opened at once, as if someone had been waiting to do so, and a brown-faced, black-eyed lady appeared, who talked very fast in French, and held up her hands at the sight of Monsieur's damp burden. He answered in the same language, calling the lady Delphine, who, chattering all the time, led them down-stairs to a room where there was a good fire burning. Susan wondered to herself why Monsieur and his sister sat in the kitchen, for she saw pots and pans and dishes, all very bright and clean, at one end of the room. The floor was covered with oil-cloth; but by the fire, on which a saucepan hissed and bubbled gently, was spread a bright crimson rug, which made a little spot of comfort. On it there stood a small table neatly laid with preparations for a meal, and a pair of large-sized carpet slippers, carefully tilted so that they might catch the full warmth of the blaze. Sharing this place of honour a fluffy grey cat sat gravely blinking, with its tail curled round its toes. Opposite the table were a rocking-chair and a work-basket, and Susan noticed that someone had been darning a large brown sock.

While she looked at these things from the arm-chair where Monsieur had placed her on his entrance, she also watched the eager face of Delphine who had not ceased to exclaim, to ask questions, to clasp her hands, and otherwise to express great interest and surprise. But it was all in French, as were also Monsieur's patient replies and explanations. Susan could not understand what they said, but she could make out a good deal by Delphine's signs and gestures. It was easy to see that she wished to persuade her brother not to go out again, for when he took up his hat she tried to take it away, and pointed to the bubbling saucepan and warm slippers. Monsieur, however, cast a gently regretful glance at them, shook his head, and presently succeeded in freeing himself from her eager grasp; then, when his steps had ceased to sound upon the stairs, she shrugged her shoulders and said half aloud:

"Certainly it is my brother Adolphe, who has the temper of an angel, and the obstinacy of a pig!"


CHAPTER FOUR.

"HALF-A-CROWN."

Mademoiselle now turned her attention to her guest with many exclamations of pity and endearment. She took off Susan's wet frock, boots, and stockings, rubbed her cold feet and hands, and placed her, wrapped in a large shawl in the rocking-chair close to the fire. Next she poured something out of the saucepan into a little white basin and knelt beside her, saying coaxingly:

"Take this, cherie, it will do you good."

It was Monsieur's soup Susan knew, prepared for his supper, and the saucepan was so small that there could not be much left; it was as bad as taking half his biscuit, and after having been so ungrateful to him, she felt she could not do it.

"No, thank you," she said faintly, turning her head away from Delphine's sharp black eyes and the steaming basin.

But Mademoiselle was a person of authority, and would not have it disputed.

"Mais oui, mais oui," she said impatiently, taking some of the broth in the spoon. "Take it at once, mon enfant, it will do you good."

She looked so determined that Susan, much against her own will, submissively took the spoon and drank the soup. It tasted poor and thin, like hot water with something bitter in it; but she finished it all, and Mademoiselle received the empty basin with a nod of satisfaction. Then she busied herself in examining the condition of Susan's wet clothes, and presently hung them all to dry at a careful distance from the hearth. Susan herself, meanwhile, leaning lazily back in the rocking-chair, began to feel warm and comfortable again; how delicious it was after being so cold and wet and frightened! What would she have done without Monsieur's help? His fire had warmed her, his broth had fed her, his house had sheltered her, and now he had gone out again into the cold night on her service. And yet, she had always been rude and naughty to him. What would Delphine say, Susan wondered, if she knew of it? She did not look as though she had the "temper of an angel" like her brother. Her black eyes had quick sparkles in them, quite unlike his, which were grey and quiet, shining always with a gentle light. Mademoiselle Delphine looked quite capable of being angry. Susan felt half afraid of her; and yet, it was pleasant to watch her neat movements as she darted swiftly about the room preparing another dish for Adolphe's supper, and Susan kept her eyes fixed on her. At last, her arrangements over, she drew a chair near Susan, and took up her darning; as she did so there was a sudden pattering of rain-drops against the window-pane.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, holding up the brown sock, "that poor Adolphe! How he will be wet!"

This made Susan feel still more guilty, but she could not think of anything to say, and Delphine, who seemed to like talking better than silence, soon began again.

"Always rain, always clouds and mist, and shadow. The sun does not shine here as in our beautiful, bright Paris?"

"Doesn't it ever rain in Paris?" asked Susan.

"Mais certainement, at moments," replied Mademoiselle; "enough to give a charming freshness to the air."

"Why did you come away?" asked Susan, gathering courage.

Delphine dropped the brown sock into her lap, and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

"Mon enfant," she said slowly, "we are exiles! Exiles of poverty."

Susan remembered that Sophia Jane had called Monsieur "a poor eggsile;" but this way of putting it sounded much better, and she repeated it to herself that she might be able to tell her when she went home.

Meanwhile Mademoiselle bent her eyes on her darning again, and proceeded:

"We were never rich, you see, in Paris, but we had enough to live in a pretty little appartement, very different from this. My brother Adolphe wrote articles for a paper of celebrity on political affairs; he had a great name for them, and if the pay was small it was certain. For me, I was occupied with the cares of the menage, and we were both content with our lives--often even gay. But trouble came. There was a crise in affaires. Adolphe's opinions were no longer those of the many; the paper for which he wrote changed its views to suit the world. Adolphe was offered a magnificent sum to change also, and write against his conscience. He lost his post; we became poorer every day. `Unless you write, Adolphe,' I said to him, `we starve.' He has a noble heart, my brother, full of honesty and truth. `I will rather starve,' he replied, `than write lies.' So after a time we resolved to try our fortune here in this cold, grey England. And we came. Adolphe was to become a Professor of French, but it was long before he found work, and we suffered. Mon Dieu! how we suffered during that first month!"

She paused a moment when she reached this point, and nodded her head several times without speaking, as though words failed her. Susan, who had listened to it all with the most earnest attention, feared she would not go on, and she wanted very much to know what happened next.

"Was it because you had no money?" she asked softly at length.

"My child," said Delphine, her bright eyes moist with tears, which she winked quickly away, "it is a terrible thing to be hungry one's self, but it is far worse to see anyone you love hungry and heart-broken, and yet patient. That is a thing one does not forget. But at last, when we almost despaired, the Bon Dieu sent us a friend. It is a little history which may, perhaps, amuse you; it was like this:--

"One night Adolphe was returning to me to say, as usual, that he could find no place; no one wanted a French master. He had scarcely eaten that day, and for weeks we had neither of us tasted meat, for we lived on what I could make by sewing, and it was very little. Adolphe therefore felt low in spirits and body, for he had walked about all the day, and his heart was heavy. As he passed a butcher's shop near here, the wife, who stood in the doorway, greeted him. He had once bought of her some scraps of meat, such as you English give to your cats and dogs, but which, in hands that understand the French cuisine, can be made to form a ragout of great delicacy.

"`Good evening,' said she; `and how did the cat like his dinner?'

"My brother removed his hat and bowed, (you may have observed his noble air at such moments), then, drawing himself to his full height:--

"`Madame,' he replied, `_I_ am the cat!'

"This answer, joined to the graceful manner of Adolphe, struck the good Madame Jones deeply. They at once enter into conversation,