heard from or seen him, for when the lesson was dueafter our last adventure, there came a note from Mrs Jackney's, sayingthat Monsieur de Tiraille had been taken ill the night before, and wasnow confined to his bed.
Only think! confined to his bed, and poor Laura unable to go to him totend him, to comfort him, and smooth his pillow, at a time when he wasin such a state of suffering, and all through me--all for my sake! I'msure I was very much to be pitied, though no one seemed to care; whileas for Clara, she grew unbearable, doing nothing but laugh.
Oh, yes, I knew well enough what was the matter, and so did two more;but, to make matters ten hundred times more aggravating, that lean MissFurness must go about sighing, and saying that it was a bilious attack,and that England did not agree with Monsieur Achille like la belleFrance; and making believe that she was entirely in his confidence, whenI don't believe that he had done more than send word to Mrs Bluntherself. And then, as if out of sympathy, Miss Furness must needs makea fuss, and get permission to take the French class--she with herhorrid, abominable accent, which was as much like pure French as a pennytrumpet is like Sims Reeves's G above the stave.
"Oh, yes," she said, "she should be only too happy to take the classwhile poor Monsieur Achille was ill."
And one way and another, the old fright made me so vexed that I shouldhave liked to make her jealous by showing her one of Achille's letters.
So, as I said before we had a dog in the place; and, oh, such a wretch!I'm sure that no one ever before saw such a beast, and there it wasbaying and howling the whole night through.
The very first day he came to inhabit the smart green kennel that MrsBlunt had had bought, he worked his collar over his ears and got loose,driving the gardener nearly mad with the pranks he played amongst theflowers; when who should come but poor meek, quiet, innocent, tameMonsieur de Kittville. The wretch made at him, seizing him by the legof his trousers; but how he ever did it without taking out a bit of hisleg I can't make out, for his things were always dreadfully tight; andthere was the wretch of a dog hanging on and dragging back, snarling thewhile, and the poor little dancing master defending himself with hisfiddle, and shrieking out--
"Brigand! Cochon! Diable de chien! Hola, ho! Au secours! I shall bedechire! Call off te tog!"
And at every word he banged the great beast upon the head with thelittle fiddle, till it was broken all to bits; but still the dog heldon, until the gardener and James ran to his assistance.
"He won't hurt you, sir," said the great, tall, stupid footman,grinning.
"But he ayve hurt me, dreadful," cried the poor dancing master, caperingabout upon the gravel, and then stooping to tie his handkerchief overhis leg, to hide the place where the dog had taken out a piece of thecloth, and was now coolly lying down and tearing it to pieces. "I amhurt! I am scare--I am fright horrible!" cried poor Monsieur deKittville; "and my nerves and strings--oh, my nerves and strings--and myleetle feetle shall be broken all to pieces. Ah, Madame Bloont, MadameBloont, why you keep such monster savage to attack vos amis? I shallnot dare come for give lessons. I am ver bad, ver bad indeed."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear! how can I sufficiently apologise?" exclaimed MrsBlunt, who had hurried up, and now began tapping the great dog upon thehead with her fan. "I am so extremely sorry, Monsieur de Kittville.Naughty dog, then, to try and bite its mistress's friends."
"Aha, madame," said the poor little man, forgetting his trouble in hisexcessive politeness and gallantry--"mais ce n'est rien; just nosing atall; but I am agitate. If you will give me one leetle glass wine, Ishall nevare forget your bonte."
"Oh, yes, yes--pray come in," said Mrs Blunt.
And then we all came round the poor, trembling little martyr; andalthough we could not help laughing, yet all the while we pitied thegood-tempered, inoffensive little man, till he had had his glass of wineand gone away; for, of course, he gave no lesson that day, and I mustchronicle the fact that Mrs Blunt gave him a guinea towards buying anew instrument.
"But, oh, Clara," I said, when we were alone, "suppose that had beenpoor Achille?"
"Oh, what's the good of supposing?" said Clara, pettishly. "It was nothim, and that ought to be enough."
"But it might have been, though," I said; "and then, only think!"
"Think," said Clara, "oh, yes, I'll think. Why, he is sure to have himsome day."
"Don't dear, pray," I said.
"And then," continued Clara, "he'll fight the dog, and kill him as KingRichard did the lion."
"Oh, please, don't tease," I said humbly; "I wonder how he is."
"Miss Furness says he is better," said Clara.
"How dare Miss Furness know?" I cried, indignantly.
"Dear me! How jealous we are!" she said, in her vulgar, tantalisingway. "How should I know?"
And, for the daughter of a titled lady, it was quite disgusting to hearof what common language she made use.
"I don't believe that she knows a single bit about it at all," I said,angrily; for it did seem so exasperating and strange for that old thingto know, while somebody else, whom he had promised to make--but there, Iam not at liberty to say what he had promised.
"You may depend upon one thing," said Clara, "and that is that yourAchille will not be invulnerable to dogs' bites; though, even if he is,he will be tender in the heel, which is the first part that he will showMr Cyclops, if he comes. But you will see if he does not take goodcare not to come upon these grounds after dark--that is, as soon as heknows about the dog. By-the-by, dear, what a dislike the dog seems tohave to anything French."
"I'd kill the wretch if it bit him," I said.
Clara laughed as if she did not believe me.
"I would," I said; "but I'll take care somehow to warn him, so that heshall run no such risks. For I would not have him bitten for theworld."
"Of course not--a darling?" said Clara, mockingly.
And then no more was said.
But matters went unfortunately, and I had no opportunity for warningpoor Achille, who was attacked in his turn by the wretch of a dog--whoreally seemed, as Clara said, to have a dislike to everything French;while, by a kind of clairvoyance, the brute must have known that poorAchille was coming. For, by a strange coincidence--not the first eitherthat occurred during my stay at the Cedars--the creature managed to getloose, and lay in wait just outside the shrubbery until _he_ came, whenhe flew at him furiously, as I will tell.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
MEMORY THE TWENTIETH--THE NEW PRISONER.
I had no idea that Achille was well enough to go on with the lessons,neither had anybody in the house; for Miss Furness had just summoned usall to the French class, and my mind was, to a certain extent, free fromcare and pre-occupation, when I heard a most horrible snarling andyelling, and crying for help. Of course I darted in agony to thewindow, when it was just as I had anticipated--just as I knew, by meansof the electric current existing between our hearts--Achille was inperil; for the horrible dog had attacked him, and there he was in fullflight.
As I reached the window, the wretch leaped upon him, seizing his coat,and tearing away a great piece of the skirt; but the next moment poorAchille made a bound, and caught at one of the boughs of the cedar hewas beneath; and there he hung, with the horrible dog snapping andjumping at his toes every time they came low enough.
It was too bad of Clara, and whatever else I may look over, I can neverforgive this; for she laughed out loudly in the most heartless way, andthat set all the other girls off wildly, though Miss Furness, as soon asshe saw what had happened, began to scream, and ran out of the room.
Only to think of it, for them all to be laughing, when the poor fellowmust have been in agony! Now he contracted, now he hung down; then hedrew himself up again, so that the dog could not reach him; but then, Isuppose, from utter weariness, his poor legs dropped down again, and thevicious brute jumped at them, when of course poor Achille snatched themup again--who wouldn't?--just as if he had been made of india-rubber, soClara said. Such a shame, l
aughing at anyone when in torment! It wasquite excruciating to see the poor fellow; and if I had dared I shouldhave seized the poker and gone to his assistance. But, then, I was sohorribly afraid of the wretched dog myself that I could not have gonenear it; and there poor Achille still hung, suffering as it were a verymartyrdom, with the dog snap, snap, snapping at his toes, so that I feltsure he would either be killed or frightfully torn. All at once, for Ireally could not keep it back, I gave a most horrible shriek, for thoughJames was running to get hold of the dog, he was too late.
The beast--the dog I mean, not James--had taken advantage of poorAchille's weariness, leaped up and seized him by one boot, when naturecould bear no more
A Fluttered Dovecote Page 30
