The Little Old Portrait

by Mrs. Molesworth

how to proceed, so young andinexperienced as he was?

  "`No, my son,' said Germain. `It is right that I should go myself. Iam an ignorant man--less taught than you--but I have the training ofage, and have learnt to keep cool and quiet when your fiery young tonguewould be getting you into trouble. No, stay you here and take care ofyour mother, and I will go where it is my duty to go. To-morrow we willtalk over about when I should start. I should like to hear what NanetteDelmar thinks about it,' and with these words he rose from his chair,but stiffly and with difficulty; his wife and Pierre both noticed itmore than heretofore. He was not the man he had been.

  "`Sitting so long cramps one--and the fire is out too,' he said.

  "But his wife looked concerned.

  "`These damp days in the woods are bringing the rheumatism out again, Ifear,' she said sadly; `but I must not murmur; I have had almost toohappy a life, even compared with my dear lady. No, I would grudgenothing for _her_.'

  "Pierre kissed her--more affectionately even than usual, as he bade hergood-night. Then he went up to his own little room, his mother thought,to go to bed and sleep as usual.

  "But early the next morning--very early, while the autumn haze was stillover the woods, and the hoarfrost on the fields, there came a soft tapto young Madame Delmar's door. Nanette was up already, for her husbandwas working just now at some distance, and she had to get his soup readybetimes, and so, as he had half hoped, Pierre Germain found her alone.

  "He quickly explained his errand. He had come to charge her with theduty of telling his parents that he had gone.

  "`They must not think me disobedient,' he said. `I feel that I amright, and they too will come to see it. My father is not what he was;if he set off on the journey alone he might fall ill on the way and wenever know it; or if I went with him I might be obliged to nurse him insome strange place, feeling miserable at nothing being done. No,Nanette, father is best at home. I am young and strong, and I have sooften thought over this, and all that I might have to do, that it seemsto me as if I had got it by heart. But you, Nanette, who have seen themso much more lately than we, who have been in Paris and know all aboutwhere they live and everything, I want you to talk to me, and tell meall you can, so that I shall feel less confused when I get there.'

  "`Willingly,' said Nanette. And then after putting the rest of the soupthey had had on to the fire again to heat for Pierre, and fetching somebread and a couple of eggs to beat up into an omelette--he must have agood breakfast before starting, she said--she sat down and told him allshe could think of. She described the house, the rooms occupied byEdmee and her mother, the one or two among the servants she thoughtbetter off than the others, though the only one she seemed to have anyreal confidence in was Marguerite Ribou.

  "`And even she,' said Pierre, `she has more reason to wish for revengethan any of them--are you sure we can trust her?'

  "`She has no ill-will, nothing but good feelings to our ladies,' saidNanette, thoughtfully. `But beyond that--as to the Sarinet family,certainly I am sure she is bitter past words. And that Victorine mayhave influenced her! Of her I need not tell you to beware.'

  "`Then if all is still as usual with them when I get there,' saidPierre, `how should I proceed? It would not be wise to say I came fromValmont to see the Countess.'

  "`No,' said Nanette, `for if the Marquis were still there he might hearof it, and he would suspect his sister was again making some planwithout telling him, which he would only oppose--he is so obstinate.No, I think you had better ask for Marguerite, and judge for yourself.But Pierre, I have faint hopes,' and Nanette's face grew very grave,`very small hope that you will find things as they were in the Rue deLille. Had they still been so I feel sure the Countess would havewritten--and, indeed, I do not think she would have remained there allthis time without making some other effort to get away.'

  "`She may have written,' said Pierre; `letters miscarry so in thesedays.'

  "`If she dared write I am sure she will have done so,' said Nanette,`unless,' and the young woman shuddered. `No, do not let us think theworst; only it is sometimes impossible not to remember all I heardthere. But again, if the Countess is in disguise somewhere, you see shewould not dare to write for fear her letter might be traced, and wouldbetray who she was.'

  "`Should I know Mademoiselle Edmee, again if I saw her, do you think?'asked Pierre.

  "`Oh yes, I think so; she has grown tall, of course, but still she hasthe same face. Indeed, she is still very like the dear little picture.My lady never has it out of her sight. It hangs in her room in Parisjust as it did here.'

  "`Many a time my mother and I have wished they had left it at theChateau,' said Pierre with a smile; `it would have been someconsolation.'

  "`Ah, yes; that I understand,' said Nanette.

  "But then Pierre started up.

  "`I must be off,' he said. `I mean to get over a good piece of groundbefore the day is old.'

  "`But you are not going on foot? You have some money with you, surely?'said Madame Delmar anxiously.

  "`Oh yes,' said Pierre; `I have enough to pay my journey. I mean to geton as fast as I can till I am near Paris. Then, perhaps, it will be aswell to go on foot. No one will pay any attention to a young fellowlike me, and I daresay it is as well for me not to have much money withme. It might be stolen. The Countess is sure to have money; there isno fear on _that_ score!'

  "Nanette hesitated.

  "`I don't know,' she said; `there is no telling to what straits even shemay be brought. See here, Pierre,' she added, going to a cupboard fromwhich she took out a locked box; `in here are some of my savings. Takewhat you can; it is my own money, and even if it were not, Albert wouldbe the last to grudge it in such a case,' and she forced into the boy'shands a little packet containing a few gold coins. `See here, a moment;I will stitch it into the lining of your coat, where no one wouldsuspect it.'

  "Pierre did not resist.

  "`It is for them,' he said simply, `and for them I thank you. At worst,Nanette, my father and mother would repay you. Tell them you gave it tome; it will make them less anxious about me. Try to see them soon--before noon, will you not? And tell them you agree with me that ifanything is to be done it is best at once, and that it was best for myfather to stay at home.'

  "`Yes,' said Nanette, `I will say all. I think you are right, Pierre.Farewell, and God bless you, my friend!'

  "She stood at the door, watching him along the road as far as she couldsee, and then with a sigh re-entered her cottage.

  "`I wish he were safe back again, and our dear ladies with him,' shesaid to herself. `Though even their absence would seem nothing now,were one sure they were in safety. I wish they were safe in some othercountry, however far away, and even if we could not see them for years.It is too dreadful to think of what may happen to them--of what may havealready happened. My sweet lady and the dear tender little Edmee! Ah!I must not think of it, or I shall unfit myself for everything. Albertmust not tell me any more of the dreadful things he hears. Not till_they_ are safe at least.'

  "I cannot tell very much of Pierre Germain's journey to Paris. Hehimself used to say he did not, in after years, recall it very clearly;later events and anxieties made it grow vague and cloudy. But nothingof very great importance occurred. As he had himself said, he was not afigure in any way conspicuous, or likely to draw much attention. Afine, sturdy young fellow of seventeen or eighteen, his little bundleslung over his shoulder, making his way along the country roads,whistling as he went, or now and then mounted on the top of the publiccoach ready for a little conversation, or to give a helping hand withthe horses if he were wanted--he had not the appearance of a dangerousperson. Nor would any one have suspected the intense anxiety he learnedso well to hide, the burning eagerness to get to the end of his journeywhich possessed him. All the information he could pick up, withoutseeming too much interested in doing so, he tried to acquire. And thenearer he approached the capital the greater seemed the half-suppressed
excitement, the stranger became the looks and tones of many of thepeople he came across; while all through his journey he met the sight ofburnt and ruined chateaux, of convents deserted by their inmates andpillaged by the neighbouring townspeople or villagers, of farms where nolonger the cheerful sounds of labour were to be heard--and everywheremisery and reckless disorder.

  "He had no difficulty in entering the great city.

  "In those days it was much easier to get into Paris than, once there, toget out again. The bundle which he carried was carelessly glanced at bythe official at the barriers, who asked him mockingly if he had come tomake his fortune in Paris, taking him for a country lad attracted, likehundreds of others, by the accounts of the