by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER V
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL
It was well that Mere Pitou came upon them before another syllable wasuttered, since not all Ingersoll's philosophy could have withstood theearthquake that had destroyed in an instant the carefully constructededifice of many years. His very soul was in revolt. Heart suggested andbrain lent bitter and cruel form to rebellious words; but, such is thepower of convention, the unexpected arrival of the sharp-tongued Bretonwoman silenced him.
"_O, la la!_" she cried breathlessly. "If I had known you two weremaking off in such a jiffy merely to stand in the Place au Beurre andlook at the stars, I wouldn't have waddled after you like the fat goosethat I am. What, then, is the matter? I thought you were hurrying homebecause you were perished with cold, and I find the pair of you stuck inthe middle of the road. Monsieur Ingersoll, you at least are old enoughto have more sense. Both must be soaked to the skin; yet you keep Yvonneout in this biting wind, to say nothing of a thin scarecrow likeyourself!"
Yvonne had dropped her hands when she heard the approaching footsteps.Unconsciously she had raised her eyes to Heaven in agonized suppliance,and her attitude was naturally inexplicable to her Breton friends. Sherecovered some semblance of self control more quickly than her father.
"Madame," she said, "we were, in a sense, debating whether or not wecould spare the time to change our clothes before attending to the wantsof the poor people saved from Les Verres. I think you are right. Itwould be foolish to take any additional risk. Come, Father dear, let mehelp you now."
She took her father's arm, and drew him on. He walked unsteadily, andmight have fallen if it had not been for Yvonne's support. The first madimpulse that bade him pour forth a vehement protest against theinjustice of Fate had died down. He was as a man stricken dumb, and evenphysically maimed, by some serious accident.
Mere Pitou, imagining that he was benumbed as the outcome of prolongedexposure to the elements, was minded to rate him soundly; but happilyelected instead to pour the torrent of her wrath on things in general."A nice fete we'll have, to be sure!" she began. "There was I, boilingbeautiful white meat and roasting fat pullets when the news came thatthe Hirondelle was acting the lifeboat off Les Verres! I thought you'dall be drowned, at the very least, and I wouldn't have been a bitsurprised, because anything might happen to that light-headed MonsieurTollemache and that grinning, good-for-nothing Peridot. _Cre nom!_ Iwouldn't have crossed the street if you two weren't aboard! And now thebottom will be burnt out of the pan, and my four lovely fowls frizzledto a cinder! Barbe, you little minx, run ahead and see that the bigkettle is put on to boil! Monsieur Ingersoll and Yvonne must have hotbaths, with mustard, and I'll stand over them till they swallow a goodtumblerful each of scalding wine. I'll give them Les Verres--see if Idon't!"
Whereat Madame gurgled in momentary appreciation of her own wit, because_verree_ means "a tumblerful," and she had blundered on a first-ratepun.
"_Chere maman_, we are not ill, nor likely to feel any bad effects froma wetting," said Yvonne. "My father is shaken because, althoughsuccessful, we have brought one dead man to Pont Aven, and perhaps adead woman too."
"Ah, that's sad--that's dreadful!" wheezed Mere Pitou. "Poor things! Whoare they?"
"An Englishman gentleman--and his wife."
"They may be Americans. We hardly know yet." Ingersoll was strivingbravely to recover his poise. Those few words told Yvonne that he wishedtheir secret to remain hidden from all others--for the present, at anyrate.
"_Dieu merci!_ You can talk, then?" said Mere Pitou tartly. "Were theycoming to Pont Aven? Are they known here?"
"No. Their name is Carmac. They have never been here, I believe. Theywere making for Lorient; but their yacht broke down and drove on thereef. Had it not been for Peridot we could not have saved a soul onboard."
"Oh, he's a good sailor--I'll say that for him. His poor old mother wasthere on the quay, screeching like an owl. She lost her man at sea, youknow. I hate the sea. I'll skin Barbe if she ever so much as looks at afisherman. Do you hear that, Madeleine?"
"Yes, Madame. But you can't skin every fisherman who looks at Barbe."
"Wait till I catch one at it! He'll find a shark in his nets that day.Hurry now, you, and help Barbe to get those baths ready! I filled thekettle before I came out, and lifted the wheat off, and as I shoved inthe damper of the oven the fowls shouldn't have taken much harm."
"Peridot will surely come soon," Madeleine ventured to say.
Mere Pitou, having made sufficient concession to her guests' feelings bythat revised estimate of the condition of the eatables, was moved towithering sarcasm.
"Why do you think that matters to me?" she cried.
Madeleine was silenced; so Madame answered her own question.
"No man with eyes like a tomcat could ever turn my head!" she snorted.
For once her gift of biting repartee served a good purpose. Iteffectually distracted attention from Ingersoll's half-demented state,while father and daughter were given a breathing space before plunginginto an explanation that might affect the future in such wise that thestream of life would never again flow on the placid course it hadfollowed during many happy and uneventful years.
Within the cottage, too, Mere Pitou's bustling ways interposed a furtherbarrier. She drove the artist to his room, set Madeleine to help Yvonneundress, "and rub her till she's as red as a boiled lobster," preparedtwo steaming glasses of mulled wine, scolded each unwilling patientuntil the decoction was taken, and wanted to massage Ingersoll; anattention that he avoided only by declaring positively that he would notindulge in a hot bath at all unless she cleared out.
Luckily a wetting from salt water is seldom harmful if accompanied byexercise, and Ingersoll had never been really chilled; while Yvonne hadnot only kept comparatively dry, but had been shielded from the windduring the homeward voyage. When the two met in the studio, a large roomthat Ingersoll had built on the north side of the house, the frenzy andtumult of a tremendous discovery had died down, and each was ready tomake due allowance for the other's suffering.
Yvonne wore her Breton dress, and her father had discarded his artist'sclothes for a suit of blue serge. Seldom, perhaps not twice in a year,did he appear in evening dress. He shunned society, and disliked itslivery. For that reason he had removed from the Hotel Julia soon afterarriving at Pont Aven with Yvonne, then an engaging mite hardly a yearold. Ostensibly he wanted a spacious studio; in reality he soughtseclusion.
As for Yvonne, she did not even possess a dinner gown; though she andher father were often welcome guests at the houses of the small artisticcoterie that makes the village its abiding place. But pictures, notfashion plates, ruled the roost therein, and no _grande dame_ whomchance brought to these friendly gatherings could plume herself that her"Paris model" frock eclipsed the quaint charm of Yvonne's peasantcostume.
The girl had grown quite accustomed to the demand invariably put forwardby Ingersoll before accepting an invitation that he should be told thenames of any strangers who would be present. If she gave a passingthought to the matter, she fancied that her father had early in lifequarreled with his relatives, and wished to avoid a haphazard meetingwith certain members of his family. Singularly enough, Tollemache, hergreatest friend among the men of Pont Aven, did not conceal the factthat he too was at loggerheads with his own people. Only that day had hebeen on the verge of some explanation of this unfortunate state ofaffairs. How little did she dream then that the carefully hidden secretwhich led her own father to bury his talents in a Brittany fishingvillage soon after she was born would be dragged into light before thesun went down!
* * * * *
When she entered the studio she found her father seated in a roomywickerwork chair, and gazing disconsolately into the flames of a roaringlog fire. He had aged within the hour; his already slight figure seemedto have shrunk; he did not even turn his head when the door opened.
Her heart went out to him in a wave of tenderness. She dropped on herknees by his side and put her arms round his neck.
"Dad dear," she murmured, "don't dwell on our troubles tonight, great asthey are. Let us rather be thankful that we were able to render someservice to our fellow creatures, and that our own lives were preservedin a time of real danger. God works in His own wonderful way, doesn'tHe, Dear? It was His will that we should have gone to Le Pouldu today.It was surely by providential contriving that we should happen to benear the reef when the Stella struck. Something more than idle chancebrought us there."
"Yes," he said, gazing into her eyes with the sorrow-laden expression ofa man who sees naught but misery before him, "it was not chance, Yvonne,but the operation of a law as certain as death. The sins of the fathersshall be visited upon the children unto the third and fourthgenerations. I had almost forgotten that your mother lived. Aftereighteen years she was dead to me. So far as you are concerned she mightas well have died in giving you birth. Then her memory would have been ablessing rather than a curse."
"Hush, Dear! She may be dying even now. No, no, Darling, you shall notsay it!" and her soft lips stifled the terrible wish that his anguishmight have voiced.
For a little while neither could speak. Yvonne's head bent over herfather's knees, and he knew that she was crying. With a supreme efforthe strove to lessen the tension.
"Come, come, Sweetheart!" he said, stroking the mass of brown hairbeneath the lace coif. "You and I must face this difficulty together, orgoodness only knows what may be the outcome! Tell me now, if you areable, how you learned that Mrs. Carmac was your mother."
"Oh, Dad, she recognized me at once!" sobbed the girl. "Poor thing, thewarmth of the blankets and a teaspoonful of brandy I forced between herlips brought her round slowly."
"When?"
"After we crossed the bar."
"I feared as much," groaned Ingersoll.
Even in her distress Yvonne had the tact to avoid the thorny bypathopened up by her father's involuntary cry. "She sighed deeply a fewtimes," she went on hurriedly, "and I could tell by her color that shewas about to revive. At last she opened her eyes, and looked at me in adazed way.
"'Yvonne!' she whispered.
"I was so overjoyed to find that she was not actually at the point ofdeath that I felt no surprise. 'Yes, Dear,' I said, 'you are withfriends, and that horrid wreck is a thing of the past.'
"But she continued to gaze at me as if I were a ghost. 'YvonneIngersoll!' she said again.
"Then it struck me as really remarkable that she should know my name.But I only asked her to drink a little more of the brandy, and restuntil we reached Pont Aven.
"'Rest!' she said in quite a clear voice. 'Why should I rest when Heavensnatches me from a dreadful death and permits me to see my own daughterafter eighteen years? Or is this some other world? Why am I here? Wherehave you come from?'
"For the moment I was sure her mind was unbalanced, and thought it bestto calm her by answering truthfully. 'My mother is dead, Dear,' I said;'but you and I are living. You hardly realize now that your yacht waswrecked on a reef near the mainland. By the mercy of Providence myfather's boat was close at hand, and we rescued you.'
"'Me only?' she cried, trying to rise in the bunk, and giving me such apiercing look.
"'No,' I said, 'we took off all hands.'
"Dad dear, I simply didn't dare say that her husband alone had beenkilled in trying to save her; so I put it that way, hoping she would notask me any more. But she did then succeed in lifting herself on anelbow.
"'Child,' she said, 'they must not meet! God! They must not meet!'
"'Who must not meet?' said I, feeling rather frightened, as of somethingunseen that threatened me in the dark.
"'Your father and Walter Carmac,' she replied.
"'If Mr. Carmac is your husband, he is still unconscious,' I assuredher, catching at the first straw that offered in the whirl of things.
"'Is your father on board?' she demanded, grasping my wrist.
"'Yes,' I said.
"Then she sank back into the bunk again, as though I had struck her, andbegan to sob. 'Oh, it is cruel, cruel!' she wept. 'After all these yearsmy folly has found me out! Yvonne, Yvonne, don't you understand? I amyour mother! I left your father eighteen years ago. I left you, mydarling little baby! I sought freedom because your father was poor, andI longed to be rich. Look at me! Look at me, I tell you! Can you denythat I am your mother?'
"Oh, Dad, I knew in my heart that she was speaking truly; but even inthat moment of torture I tried to be loyal to you, and begged her toclose her eyes and let me cover her with the blankets. But she onlylaughed, in a ghastly way that was worse than tears. Then she heard oneof the men in the other bunks groaning, and started up again, askingwildly who was there. I told her that two men were badly injured, andhad been brought below. Unfortunately, I added that her husband was ondeck.
"'Husband!' she cried. 'I am not worthy of such a husband! I bartered myvery soul for luxury, and now I am being punished as I deserve. Yvonne,one night in Paris your mother kissed you when you were lying asleep inyour cot, and hurried away to what I deemed liberty. I have lulled myconscience for eighteen years into the belief that I was justified, thatI had acted for the best, since my extravagant tastes were even thenembittering your father's life. Yet the husband and child I abandonedhave saved my miserable life, saved the man too who came into my lifewhen I was free to marry again. Oh, why didn't you let me die? Perhaps Iam dying now. Yvonne, you have my face; but a kindly Heaven must havespared you from having my nature. You, at least, will forgive. Kiss meonce before the end comes. If you are merciful, an Eternal Judge may notcondemn me utterly; for I have striven to atone by doing some good inthe world. Unhappy myself, I have tried to make others happy.'
"Father dear, I could not refuse. I took her in my arms. I suppose shenearly fainted again, because she only spoke incoherently until sheheard your voice in the hatch, when she whispered your name and buriedher face in the clothes."
* * * * *
The girl's tremulous voice ceased, and there was no sound in the roomsave the crackling of elm logs and the pleasant babble of flames in thebig open fireplace. At last, fearing lest he should break downcompletely, Ingersoll gently untwined his daughter's clasp, rose, andfumbled with a pipe,--man's sole harbor of refuge in emotional storms.
"Don't cry, Yvonne," he said brokenly. "It--it hurts. From what you tellme I gather that your--mother--is in a more critical condition than Iimagined. Do you want to go to her--now?"
Yvonne too stood up. She brushed away the mist of tears, and looked athim with shining eyes. "Dad," she said, and a vibration rang in hervoice that carried her father's memory back half a lifetime, back to thedays when youth was golden and love was deemed everlasting, "when mymother was muttering in delirium, my own poor wits wandered. I askedmyself what it all meant, and I could not escape the bitterunderstanding that came to me. Then I remembered what you said one daywhen a wretched girl had been hounded out of the village because of hertransgression."
"What I said?" repeated Ingersoll, baffled in the effort to follow hertrain of thought.
"Yes. You were speaking to some man who was angered by the mercilessattitude of the peasant women to one of their own sex. You blamed themisleading teachings of narrow-minded theologians, and reminded him ofChrist's words to the Pharisees who brought before Him some poorcreature who had fallen. They taunted Him with the Mosaic law, whichordered that she and her like should be pelted with stones; but He onlysaid that the man who was without sin among them should cast the firststone. And the crowd melted, and Christ was left alone with the sinner,whom He forgave. I did not know then just what you meant. I did not knowuntil I heard my mother confessing her fault, and asking me, herdaughter, for forgiveness."
"Unhappily our everyday world is not ruled by the maxims of Christ. Thegirl you speak of went to Brest, and her body was found in the harbor
afortnight later."
"I remembered that too."
"If you go to your mother now, you may set in motion influences that maydarken your whole life."
"If I did not go, I would never forgive myself--never!"
"Prudence, the merest sort of commonsense, warns me that we ought to getaway from Pont Aven by the first possible train."
"Father dear, what did Peridot say to you before he brought theHirondelle round into the wind off Les Verres? I couldn't hear, ofcourse. But do you think I could not read your face? Had you not todecide whether or not you would risk my life as well as your own? Youwere sure of Lorry--who wouldn't be? But it came hard to sacrifice me aswell. Did you obey commonsense then? Did you even hesitate?"
Ingersoll threw up a hand in a gesture of sheer hopelessness, andpretended to search for a box of matches on the mantelpiece. "So be it!"he said wearily. "Don't think I am afraid of any rival in youraffection, Yvonne. Perhaps your woman's heart is wiser than my grayhead. But, mark you, I make two stipulations! No matter what transpires,you must come home before eleven o'clock; and it is impossible,absolutely impossible, that your mother and I should ever meet!"
He was choosing his words carelessly that night. How "impossible" itwould have seemed that morning had some wizard foretold the events ofthe succeeding hours! But Yvonne also was deaf to all but his yielding.She ran to him, and drew his face close to hers.
"Dad," she said, kissing him, "you are the best and dearest man in theworld. How could your wife ever have left you? If I live a hundredyears, I shall never understand that."
She was going; but he stayed her.
"Yvonne, be governed by one vital consideration. Those two men in thecabin must have caught some glimmer of the truth from your mother'sravings. But they are strangers, and their own troubles may havepreoccupied their minds to the exclusion of the affairs of others. Theonly person in Pont Aven who knows something of my sad history is MadamePitou. She has been aware all these years that my wife was alive, or atany rate that she was living after I came here. She is certainly to betrusted. Take care that none other learns your mother's identity. I askthis for her own sake."
The girl smiled wistfully. "Yet you would have me believe you an ogre!"she said.
* * * * *
A few minutes later Tollemache arrived. He found his friend sitting bythe fire, with a pipe that had gone out between his lips.
"Hello, Socrates!" he cried. "You're togged for the party, I see.Where's Yvonne?"
"She was unhappy because of that poor woman who lost her husband; so Ilet her hurry off to Julia's. They've been taken there, I suppose?"
"Yes. It was awfully distressing. Peridot carried Mrs. Carmac off theboat, and by some mismanagement the light from a lantern fell on herhusband's face. Ill as she was, she realized that he was dead. Shescreamed something I couldn't attach any meaning to, and her cries asshe was being put into the hotel auto were heartrending. By gad! abeastly experience!"
"What did she say, Lorry?"
"I hardly know. It sounded like a cry for Yvonne, and a protest againstHeaven that her husband should be taken and she left. 'I am the realoffender!' she said. 'The punishment should be mine, not his!' Somehow,not the sort of thing you'd expect from a distracted wife. I guess she'snearly out of her mind."
"Naturally. Think what it meant to a delicate woman to be imprisoned inthat deck saloon when the yacht keeled over. You see, Lorry, we werebuoyed up with the hope of being able to effect a rescue. She, on theother hand, must have gazed into the opening doors of eternity. Pull upa chair. There's time for a cigarette. Seven o'clock is the supperhour."
Tollemache obeyed. Ingersoll relighted his pipe, and the two smoked insilence for a while. Then the younger man glanced at his companion witha quizzical scrutiny that was altogether approving.
"Glad to see you've bucked up, old sport," he said. "You were thoroughlyknocked out by the time we reached the quay. I know why, of course."
Ingersoll stooped to throw back into the fire a half-burnt log that hadfallen out on to the hearth. "Do you?" he said calmly.
"Great Scott! I should think so, indeed! It was one thing that we threemen should go into that death trap, but quite another that you shouldbring Yvonne into it. Bless your heart, Yvonne was watching Peridot andyou, and told me what you were saying. 'Dear old Dad,' she said, 'hefeels like Jephthah when he had to sacrifice his daughter.' Made me gocold all over. Gee whizz! I was pleased it wasn't I who had to make thechoice between turning back and running into safety--where my sister--ormy wife--was concerned."
Tollemache stammered and reddened as his tongue tripped on theconcluding words; but the older man paid no heed. He was too profoundlyrelieved by an explanation that differed so materially from the avowalhe dreaded.
"By the way, Lorry, that journey to Paris is postponed," he said after apause.
"Good! It was hardly like you to bolt out of the place when you weremost needed. Those sailormen would be at sixes and sevens tomorrow if wedidn't show up."
"I must leave that part of the business to you," said Ingersoll slowly."I mean to efface myself entirely. Indeed, I'm thinking of paying along-deferred visit to Forbes, at Concarneau. Yvonne and you can managesplendidly in my absence. Now, don't argue, there's a good chap. Irather lost my head on being brought into contact with two people withwhom I quarreled years ago; or, to be precise, my animus was not againstthe poor fellow who is dead. Of course his wife is bound to recall thefacts, and it would place her in a difficult position when shediscovered that I was one of her rescuers. Women are apt to form curiousnotions about such matters. It was an extraordinary misfortune, to saythe least, that her husband should be the one man whom we failed tosave. I think you follow me?"
"Oh, yes--the irony of Fate, and that sort of thing," said Tollemachewith an air of wisdom. He was convinced that he understood the positionexactly.
Ingersoll stood upright, drew in a deep breath that was curiously like asigh, and tapped his pipe against the stone pillars of the fireplace. "Ihear sounds of revelry by night," he said. "Herri has arrived with thebagpipes."
"Dash it all!" growled Tollemache. "I don't feel a scrap like dancingthis evening. That unhappy woman's shrieks are still ringing in myears."
"We must adjust ourselves to the conditions," said Ingersoll quietly."Life, like art, is a matter of light and shade. Each of us sails a tinycraft through an unknown sea, and if we can give a brother or sister acheery hail--why, let us do it, though our own vessel be sinkingsteadily. I'm in no mood for revel,--goodness knows!--but, with Yvonneabsent, you and I must help Mere Pitou to entertain her guests. Someexcellent folk are coming here from Nizon and Nevez. Her sister isdriving in from Riec. You'll hear some real old Breton ballads tonight.Pity Yvonne isn't here to translate them. My acquaintance with thelanguage is limited; but Madeleine or Barbe will tell you the drift ofthe words."
"Won't Yvonne be here later?" inquired Tollemache, striving to cloak hisdisappointment.
"I'm inclined to think she will remain with Mrs. Carmac till eleven orthereabouts."
"But the doctor is there--and a nurse."
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, Mrs. Carmac will prefer Yvonne to anynurse. There is a cousinship of nationality, you know. Now, Lorry, nogrumbling. Let's make the best of things."
* * * * *
A knock at the door heralded the entrance of a dozen or more smiling andself-possessed Bretons. The studio was the only room in the house largeenough to hold the company that would gather within the next fewminutes. The living room was packed with tables and chairs; hence, onfete days, Ingersoll's quarters were invaded.
The artist was acquainted with everyone present, and Tollemache was nostranger to the majority. Nearly all were of the well-to-do yeomanclass; for Mere Pitou belonged to an old family, and her husband, afarrier, had been well thought of in Pont Aven. Men and women wore thenational costume, and appeared that evening in grand sta
te. The women'sfull-skirted dresses were of black cashmere, trimmed and slashed withdeep bands of black velvet; but this somber setting was merely a foil toaprons and overbodices wrought in gold, silver, and bright-hued silkthreads, the whole blended in pretty designs with an oriental lavishnessof color and sheen.
The coifs, though bearing a general similarity of design, varied foreach district. The abundant and jet-black hair of these Breton dames anddemoiselles was waved over the forehead and coiled somewhat toward theback of the head. Round the twisted tresses was placed, in the firstinstance, the _petite coiffe_, a stiff white linen band three inchesdeep, which, pinned securely, served as the basis of a daintysuperstructure. A strip of silk ribbon, cream, pink, or light blue, hidthe _petite coiffe_, and showed its tint through the meshes of thecoronet of fine lace and cambric forming the _grande coiffe_, with itscoquettish white streamers falling below the neck.
Round the throat, and deeply cut, was the broad linen collar, highlystarched, and so wide that its wings projected over the shoulders,leaving a space across the top of the breast to reveal the lace edgingof an underbodice. These collars would puzzle any laundress who was nota Bretonne if she were asked to prepare them, because their gracefulcurves, molded to the slope of the shoulders and the straight line ofthe back, are obtained by a process of wrinkling, or furrowing, effectedby the use of long straws when the linen has been lightly ironed when itis still damp and pliable.
Age does not affect the style of dress. The girl of eight is attiredexactly like her grandmother, the only variation being seen in theshoes, the younger people mostly donning white doeskin, and the olderones black patent leather with silver buckles.
The men too, without exception, wore tight-fitting gray trousers, shortjackets of black cloth, with tabliers of black velvet and ornamentalbuttons. Some dandies affected gold, silver, and colored silk embroiderydown each side of the front of the jacket. Their hats were low-crowned,black felt wideawakes, with heavy bands of black velvet, carrying showybuckles of silver on a rosette.
A more light-hearted, jovial, and picturesque company it would bedifficult to find, or, considering its nature, one more expensivelydressed. (Strangers, especially of the fair sex, who decide to purchase"a Brittany costume" for the next fancy dress ball, are likely to beunpleasantly surprised when they inquire the price. The materials areinvariably the best of their kind, and the lace and embroidery arehandworked. Naturally one such outfit lasts several years.)
* * * * *
Ingersoll moved among these free-mannered, laughter-loving folk asthough he had not a care in the world. Some notion of the disaster tothe Stella had spread, and he was called on for particulars, which hegave in sufficient detail. The men appreciated the peril from which theHirondelle had extricated herself, the women were prodigal of theirsympathy with the American woman who had lost her husband. Tollemache,listening to his friend's easy flow of talk, wondered more than everwhat sort of nervous attack it was that induced that amazing display ofterror at the moment of landing.
Supper was ended when Peridot put in an appearance. His face wasflushed, and his gray-green eyes had acquired a rather suspiciousluster. In a word. Captain Popple had discovered the excellence ofliqueur brandy, and Peridot, ordinarily an abstemious fellow, had provedhimself a less seasoned vessel than his host.
Madeleine was the first to notice his condition, and it troubled her.She rather avoided him, and as a consequence he affected a loud-voicedand boisterous good-humor.
"_Gars!_" he cried, seizing the opportunity when the girl refused todance the gavotte with him. "Where is Yvonne? She can foot it betterthan any of you."
Now he had never before alluded to Yvonne by her Christian name. Whilethe Bretons are not toadies, they are polite, and the artist's daughterranked as an aristocrat in the village. An awkward silence fell. EvenIngersoll shot an inquiring glance at the fisherman.
"Mademoiselle Yvonne is at the Hotel Julia," said Mere Pitou. "Pity shedidn't see you as she was going."
"Why?" grinned Peridot.
"Because you might have known then how to address her. By this time youseem to have forgotten."
"_Que Diable!_ I meant no offense, Madame. I suppose she's looking afterthe lady who claimed her as a daughter."
"What sayest thou, Imbecile?"
"Fact," said Peridot, with drunken gravity. "I asked a man who speaksEnglish what the lady was screaming as I tucked her into the auto, andhe told me----"
"Larraidou," broke in Ingersoll, pallid with sudden anger, "you hadbetter go home."
Then Peridot too flared into wrath. "What have I done wrong?" he cried."_Cre nom!_ they're as like as two peas in a pod! Come, now,Monsieur--is there any harm in saying that?"
Ingersoll turned to Tollemache. "Lorry," he said, "oblige me by takingour talkative friend to his house. He will be glad of it in themorning."
So, protesting loudly that some people made a lot of fuss about nothing,Peridot vanished with a shattered halo. But the mischief had been done.Next day all Pont Aven would be discussing Mrs. Carmac's strangedelusion. In the view of the one man who knew the whole truth, it wasthe beginning of the end.
