CHAPTER VII Next Morning
It must have been between nine and ten o'clock the next day when Bettinaheard voices in the garden.
She was not fully awake; having slept but little during the night andonly dozing fitfully since daybreak.
Except for the cold she had not suffered especial discomfort. During theearly hours of the evening, accepting the inevitable result of her ownaction, Bettina had refused to allow herself to become frightened ormiserable, as many girls would have done under the same circumstances.This was partly due to her own temperament, but perhaps more to herfather's influence and training. A poor boy, who had made his own way toa distinguished position, Senator Graham had long discussed with Bettina,with whom he was peculiarly intimate, the futility of wasting one'senergy against a set of unimportant circumstances which cannot beovercome.
So when darkness fell and the stars came out and Bettina found herselfbecoming lonely and unhappy, deliberately she had set about to overcomeher mood. This could best be accomplished by thinking not of herself andthe uneasiness she was causing Mrs. Burton and her Camp Fire friends, butby entertaining herself with an imaginary story. Having read so manystories recently the effort was not difficult.
So Bettina had pictured to herself a lady of the court of Queen MarieAntoinette, conceiving her as young, stately and reserved, with lovelyfair hair, blue eyes and delicate features.
Indeed the heroine of Bettina's self-told tale, as so often happens withthe heroines of one's imagination, bore a likeness to herself. But withthe personal resemblance the analogy ceased.
In Bettina's romance, Mademoiselle Elise Dupuy is the daughter of a poorFrench nobleman whose parents desire her marriage to a man of greatwealth but far older than herself. Elise is one of the Maids of Honor atQueen Marie Antoinette's court. Both the King and Queen are also anxiousfor her marriage, wishing to attach her fiance to their service.
As the young French girl refuses the marriage she is banished from Court.Hoping she may reconsider her position Queen Marie Antoinette, who has anaffection for her as well, has sent her to spend the winter months aloneat the Little Trianon. She has a few servants to care for her, but nofriends are allowed to see her and no letters are to be written her, savethat now and then a letter from the Queen to ask if she has decided tosubmit her will to those in authority over her.
So strong was Bettina's creative imagination and so frequent her habit ofentertaining herself in secret with the stories that she hoped some dayto write, that during the long hours of the night, her little Frenchheroine became a real person to her.
She had a remarkably clear vision of Elise Dupuy walking alone in theQueen's secret garden three centuries ago. Mam'selle Dupuy wore lovelyflowered silk gowns and a flowing mantle and the picture hats which werethe fashion of her day.
The point of Bettina Graham's romance, wherein it differed from moreconventional fiction, was that Elise Dupuy had no young lover who madeher marriage distasteful.
Instead the young French girl desired to dedicate her life to the serviceof the women and children of France.
Recalling the past, one must remember that in the days of Louis XVI andMarie Antoinette, the poor of France were starving. Among the nobilityand wealthy classes there was no interest in their fate, until after theadvent of the French revolution and the execution of the King and Queen.
Therefore, no one sympathized or believed in Elise Dupuy's self imposedmission, which received no aid or support from her friends. In Bettina'sstory, the young French girl, through the assistance of one of theservants at the Little Trianon, who is in accord with her, makes herescape from Versailles to Paris, and there begins her lifework among thepoor.
The years pass on and Marie Antoinette is about to be beheaded. Her onefriend now is Elise Dupuy, who is herself a working girl and beloved bythe people and the leaders of the revolution.
Elise makes an effort to save the Queen but is unsuccessful.
One winter afternoon, returning to the secret garden near the LittleTrianon, again she wanders about remembering and regretting her lostfriend.
At first she is walking there alone, but later some one joins her, ayoung man who is her lover, a French workman, a printer by trade and amember of the Sans-Culotte.
At first he pleads vainly for Elise's love, but in the end she agrees totheir marriage, provided she is to be allowed to continue her work amongthe poor.
Afterwards as the young lovers walk about in the garden together,Bettina's impressions became more confused.
Half a dozen times during the long night, while in the act of composingher story, Bettina had fallen asleep, only to awaken at intervals and goon with it. In her dreams the story had often grown strangely confusedwith her own personal experience.
Now, as a matter of fact, long after the coming of day, when first sheheard human voices speaking close beside her in the garden, during thefirst few moments of waking, Bettina had still to struggle between thereality and her dream.
Several hours she had been half seated, half reclining on a small stonesettee protected from the wind by evergreens. During the night she hadoften walked about at different periods of time in order to keep herblood in circulation.
Yet now, trying to rise and ask for aid and also to explain her presencein the garden, Bettina found herself scarcely able to move. She had notrealized that she had grown so benumbed and cramped from her exposure tothe winter night.
She made an effort to cry out, but found speech as difficult as movement.The voices which had sounded so nearby a short time before were growingless distinct. Unless she could attract some one's attention immediately,she must remain an indefinite length of time, half frozen and halfstarved in the Queen's garden. In all probability no one ever entered itsave the gardeners who came in now and then to take care of it.
Bettina's second effort to call for help was more successful.
The following instant she became aware of a puzzled silence. Then thevoices addressed each other again, as if they were questioning their ownears.
A third time Bettina called, making another effort to move forward. Thenshe knew that some one must have heard her, because the footsteps whichhad been dying away a short time before were now approaching.
There was a figure in marble nearby, the figure of a Greek girl, andagainst this Bettina leaned for support, scarcely conscious of what shewas doing.
The next moment two persons were standing within a few feet of her, bothfaces betraying an almost equal astonishment.
The one was an old Frenchman's, evidently one of the park gardeners,since he had on his working clothes and the insignia of his occupation.His skin, which was weather beaten and wrinkled at all times, now seemedto crinkle into fresh lines through surprise and consternation.
"_Mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, staring blankly and offering no further aidor suggestion.
His companion was a young man, whom, in spite of her exhausted condition,Bettina recognized at once as one of her own countrymen.
Instantly, whatever his secret astonishment, he came forward and withoutasking permission, slipped his arm through Bettina's, having realizedthat she was hardly able to stand alone.
Yet he had seen an extraordinary picture he was not likely to forget.Against the background of an early winter morning landscape, her armresting for support upon the arm of a piece of Greek statuary, was ayoung girl, almost as pale as the marble image.
Her eyes were a deep cornflower blue, her fair hair pushed up under hersmall fur hat, her lips and the tip of her nose blue with cold.Fortunately for her she wore a close-fitting long fur coat. Yet, in spiteof her physical discomfort, she did not look especially disconcerted.
"I am afraid I am rather an unexpected apparition," she began, speakingslowly and yet finding her voice growing stronger with each word."Neither have I a very satisfactory explanation for my presence here inthis garden, which I know tourists are not supposed to enter. But I waspassing
by yesterday and seeing an opening in the wall I came in here fora few moments. It is the old story with persons who are too curious. Iwas not able to find the gate afterwards and spent the night here alone.Will either of you be kind enough to show me the way out? I am afraid myfriends have spent a very uncomfortable time because of my stupidity."
Appreciating the kindness of his intention, nevertheless, Bettina drewher arm from her companion's clasp, and turned to the French gardener.
She observed an expression in the old man's face which made her glad ofthe unexpected presence of one of her own countrymen. The man's look wasundoubtedly troubled and suspicious, and a moment later Bettina was ableto appreciate his discomfiture.
"You are looking tired; I am sorry to be compelled to doubt your story,"he responded, speaking in French and with a Frenchman's innate courtesy.
Then he turned to the younger man.
"You understand my position, sir, I will not be doing my duty unless theyoung lady can prove that what she has just told me is true. Ever sincethe war began we have been forced to doubt every story. Now that the waris over until peace is actually declared, and afterwards maybe, Francehas got to be pretty careful to see that no harm comes to her again fromher enemy. The old palace at Versailles is closed just at present, butthe Germans are to sign the peace terms in the old Hall of Peace, and itwouldn't look well if trouble should come to anybody here at Versailles.I have been a gardener in this park for something over a quarter of acentury. The young lady must go with me to the proper authorities. Theywill understand what she has to say better than I can, though it is trueshe speaks the French language very well."
Recognizing the justice of the old gardener's point of view, in spite ofher fatigue, Bettina nodded.
"Certainly, I will do whatever you think best. Only I am so very tiredand cold and hungry, may I have something to eat and a chance to get warmbefore I try to talk to anybody?"
Then she turned to the young American.
"I wonder if you would be so good as to telephone my friends and tellthem I am all right. I know they have been dreadfully worried about meand, although my story does sound rather improbable, I am sure I shallhave no difficulty in proving it. If you will please call up Mrs. RichardBurton, 27 Rue de Varennes, I shall be deeply grateful. My name isBettina Graham; my father is Senator Graham of Washington and I have beenin France for some time helping with the reclamation work."
"I say, Miss Graham, then I know your father slightly!" the young manexclaimed. "I have been living in Washington for several years, only forthe past few weeks I have been in France as one of the unimportantmembers of the United States Peace Commission.
"My name is David Hale. Of course I will telephone your friends withpleasure, but I think you had best allow me to go along with youafterwards as perhaps I may be useful. I am boarding in Versailles atpresent because the hotels in Paris are so crowded and by a lucky chanceI was allowed to pay a visit to the Queen's secret garden this morning. Idon't have to go into Paris for several hours, not until the afternoonsession of the Peace Commission."
At this the old gardener, evidently relieved by the turn events hadtaken, started off, Bettina and her new acquaintance following.
A few feet further along, David Hale, added unexpectedly:
"See here, Miss Graham, you probably may not appreciate the fact, but Ihave seen you before. I was in Paris the day the armistice was signed,having been sent over to France on a special mission a little timebefore. On the morning of the great day an American woman, a friend ofmine whose son had been killed fighting in France, asked me to place abouquet on the statue of Alsace Lorraine in the Place de la Concorde. Itis queer I should remember perhaps, but you were standing close besidethe monument. I call this a piece of good luck."
Bettina smiled, although not feeling in a particularly cheerful mood.
"I am sure the good luck is mine."
The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France Page 7
