CHAPTER XI.
BARBARA TURNS PLOTTER.
The day after her expedition to Dol, Barbara saw Alice Meynell again,and in rather a strange meeting-place--namely, the public bath-house.The house in which the Loires lived was an old-fashioned one, and hadno bath, and at first Barbara had looked with horror upon thebath-house. She had become more reconciled to it of late, and, as itwas the only means of obtaining a hot bath, had tried to make the bestof it. It was a funny little place, entered by a narrow passage, atone end of which there was a booking-office, and a swing door, whereyou could buy a "season-ticket," or pay for each visit separately.
On one side of the passage there were rows of little bathrooms,containing what Barbara thought the narrowest most uncomfortable bathsimaginable. A boy in felt slippers ran up and down, turning on thewater, and a woman sat working at a little table at one end--"to seeyou did not steal the towels," Barbara declared. It was here she metAlice Meynell, under the care of an old attendant, whom the girl saidshe knew was a spy sent to report everything she said or did.
"Mademoiselle, who came with me to call the other day, has taken agreat dislike to you," Alice whispered hurriedly in passing; "and whenI asked if I might go to see you again, said, 'No, it was such a pityto talk English when I was here to learn French.' I am _quite_determined to run away."
The boy announced that the bath was ready, and the old attendant,putting her watch on the table, said--
"Be quick, mademoiselle. Only twenty minutes, you know."
Before leaving the place, Barbara managed to get a moment's speech, inwhich she begged Alice not to do anything until they met again, andmeanwhile she would try hard to think of some plan to make thingseasier; for the girl really looked very desperate, and Barbara had sooften acted as the confidante of her own brother and sister that shewas accustomed to playing the part of comforter.
It seemed to her that if Alice wanted to run away, she had better do itas well as possible, for the girl was wilful enough to try to carry outany wild plan she might conceive. Barbara thought of many things, butthey all seemed silly or impossible, and finally got no further thanmaking up her mind to meet Alice again at the bath-house.
The events of the afternoon, moreover, put her countrywoman out of herhead for the time being, for she found what she had been longing forever since she came--a riding-master.
Mademoiselle Therese had long talked of taking her across the bay toDinard, to visit some friends there, but hitherto no suitable occasionhad been found. The delights of a boot and shoe sale, of whichmademoiselle had received notice, reminded her of her intentions ofshowing Barbara "that famous seaside resort," and after an early lunchthey set out for Dinard.
"Business first," mademoiselle said on landing; "we will hasten to thesale, and when I have made my purchases we will stroll into the park,and then visit my friend."
"If you don't mind I will stay outside and watch the people," Barbaraproposed, on reaching the shop and seeing the crowds inside. "I won'tstray from just near the window, so you may leave me quite safely--andit looks so hot in there."
Her companion demurred for a moment, but finally agreed, and Barbarawith relief turned round to watch the people passing to and fro.
Dinard seemed very gay and fashionable, she thought, and there wasquite a number of English and Americans there. Surely in such a placeone might find a riding-school. There was a row of _fiacres_ quiteclose to the pavement, and, seized by this new idea, she hurried up toone of the drivers and asked him if he knew of any horses to be hiredin the town.
She had feared her French might not be equal to the explanation, andwas very glad when he understood, and still more pleased to hear thatthere was an excellent _manege_,[1] which many people visited. Afterinquiring the name of the street, she returned to her shop window,longing for mademoiselle to come out. Her patience was nearlyexhausted when that lady finally appeared, having bought nothing.
"I tried on a great many boots and some shoes," she explained, "and didnot care for any. Indeed, I really did not need new ones; but I haveseen samples of much of their stock."
In the midst of the intense satisfaction of this performance, the girlbrought her news of a riding-school, which evidently was not verywelcome to her companion. She had, as a matter of fact, known of theexistence of such a place, but did not approve of "equestrian exercisefor women "; moreover, she had pictured so much exertion to herself inconnection with the idea of riding lessons, that she had been veryundesirous of Barbara's beginning them, and had, therefore, notencouraged the idea. But the secret of the school being out, sheresolved to make the best of it, and agreed to go round at once and seethe place.
They had little difficulty in finding it, and were ushered into anoffice, where a very immaculate Frenchman received them, and inquiredhow he could serve them. On hearing their errand he smiled still morepleasantly, and in a few minutes everything was settled. Barbara wasto come over twice a week and have lessons, and, if she cared, mightbegin that afternoon. The only drawback was that she had no skirt,which, he assured her with a sweeping bow, he could easily remedy, forhe had an almost new one on the premises, and would think it an honourto lend it to her.
He was politeness itself, and seemed not in the least damped byMademoiselle Therese's evident gloom. He conducted her up to thegallery at one end of the school, and explained that she could watchevery movement from that vantage-point.
"It will be almost as good as having a lesson yourself, madame," hesaid politely, twirling his fierce gray mustachios.
At the other end of the school was a large looking-glass, which he toldBarbara was to enable the pupils to observe their deportment; but shenoticed that he always stood in the middle of the ring, where hewatched his own actions with great pleasure.
The girl thought it a little dull at first, for she had been given anamiable old horse who knew the words of command so well that the reinswere almost useless, and who ambled along in a slow and peacefulmanner. But Monsieur Pirenne was entirely satisfied with his pupil,and he assured her, "if she continued to make such stupendous progressin the next lesson, he would have the felicity of taking her out in thefollowing one."
At this Mademoiselle Therese shook her head pensively.
"Then I must take a carriage and follow you," she said.
Barbara laughed.
"Oh, dear, mademoiselle, do think how impossible that would be," sheexplained, seeing the lady looked somewhat offended. "If we took tothe fields how could you follow us in a carriage? No; just think hownice it will be to see so much of your friend while I am out."
This view of the case somewhat reconciled Mademoiselle Therese to theidea, though her contentment vanished when she found that the wind hadincreased considerably during the afternoon, and that the mouth of theriver was beginning to look a little disturbed.
They stood on the end of the quay, waiting the arrival of thesteamboat, and mademoiselle shook her head gloomily.
"It is not that I am a bad sailor, you know," she explained; "but, whenthere is much movement, it affects my nerves and makes me feel faint."
Barbara looked steadfastly out to sea. She did not want to hurtMademoiselle Therese's feelings by openly showing her amusement.
"It is very unpleasant to have such delicate nerves," her companioncontinued; "but I was ever thus--from a child."
"But at this time of year we shall not often have a stormy passage,"comforted Barbara.
At that moment a gust of wind, more sudden than usual, playfully caughtMademoiselle Therese's hat, and bore it over the quay into the water.
"My hat!" she shrieked. "Oh, save my hat!"
Barbara ran forward to the edge, but it had been carried too far forher to reach even with a stick or umbrella.
"My hat!" mademoiselle cried again, turning to the people on the pier,who were waiting for the ferry. "Rescue my hat--my _best_ hat!"
At this stirring appeal several moved forward and looked smilingly atthe doomed head
-gear; and one kind little Frenchman stooped down andtried to catch it with the end of his stick, but failed. Mademoisellegrew desperate.
"If you cannot get the hat, get the hat-pins," she wailed. "They aresilver-gilt--and presents. Four fine large hat-pins."
Then, seeing that several people were laughing, she grew angry.
"And you call yourselves _men_, and Frenchmen! Can none of you swim?Why do you stand there mocking?"
"It is such an ugly hat," an Englishman murmured near Barbara. "Itwould be a sin to save such an inartistic creation."
"But she will get another just as bad," Barbara said, with dancingeyes. "And--it is her best one!"
"Cowards!" mademoiselle cried again, leaning futilely over the quay."I tell you, it is not only the hat, but the hat-pins. Oh! to see itdrown before my eyes, and none brave enough to bring it back!"
This piece of rhetoric seemed to move one French youth, who slowlybegan to unlace his boots, though with what object one could not bequite sure.
"It is such a particularly ugly hat," the Englishman continuedcritically. "Those great roses like staring eyes on each side, with noregard for colour or anything else."
"But the colour won't be nearly so bright after this bath," Barbarasuggested; then added persuasively, "And really, you know, she took along time over it. Couldn't you reach it easily from that boat--theferry is so near now, and it would drive her distracted to see theroses churned up by the paddle-wheels."
The Englishman looked from the agitated Frenchwoman to the blots ofcolour on the water, that were becoming pale and shapeless; then hemoved lazily towards the boat. Just as he was getting into it helooked back at Barbara.
"She won't embrace me--will she?" he asked. "If so----"
"Oh, no," Barbara assured him. "Hand it up to her on the end of theoar."
"Well," he said, unshipping one, "it is against my conscience to saveanything so hideous. But the fault lies with you, and as you willprobably go on seeing it, you will have punishment enough."
A few minutes later Mademoiselle Therese received the sodden hat withrapture, anxiously counting over the hat-pins, while the French youth,with some relief, laced up his boot again.
"How noble!" mademoiselle exclaimed. "How kind! Your countryman too,Miss Barbara! Where is he that I may thank him?"
"If you linger you will miss the ferry," Barbara interposed. "See,here it is, mademoiselle," and her companion reluctantly turned fromthe pursuit of the stranger to go on board, clasping her hat intriumph. Barbara thought, as she followed her, that if the fastidiousrescuer had but seen her joy in her recovered treasure, he would havefelt rewarded for his exertions in saving a thing so ugly.
[1] Riding-School.
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