Barbara in Brittany

by George A. Warren

  CHAPTER VII.

  A WILD DRIVE.

  The uncomfortable "campaign," as Marie had called it, continued forsome days, and Barbara was in the unpleasant condition of having bothparties confide in her. At the end of that time, however, it seemed asif the dainties that sustained the two upstairs began to pall uponthem, as housekeeping evidently did on Mademoiselle Therese, andBarbara saw signs of a truce.

  This was doubtless hastened by the news that an old family friend wascoming with his wife and daughter on the next Sunday afternoon, and, asMademoiselle Therese explained, they must keep up appearances. He wasa lawyer who lived at Dol, and from the preparations that were made,Barbara saw that they thought a great deal of him, for there was suchbaking and cooking as had never been since her arrival. The salad evenwas adorned with rose leaves, and looked charming, while theMesdemoiselles Loire clothed themselves in their best garments.

  They all sat in state in the drawing-room as the hour for the arrivalof the visitors approached, trying to look as if they had never heardof soufflet or mayonnaise salad, and Barbara, who had been called uponto taste each of the dishes in turn and give an opinion on their worth,almost felt as if she never wished to hear of such things again. Abouttwelve o'clock a _fiacre_ stopped at the door, and a few minutes laterthe visitors were announced--father, mother, and daughter.

  Barbara was agreeably surprised--as indeed she often was by the Loires'friends--to find that they were so nice. The mother and daughter wereboth very fashionably dressed, but simple and frank, the father,however, being most attractive to Barbara. He was clever and amusing,and contradicted Mademoiselle Therese in such an audacious way, thathad it been any one else, she would have retired to her bedroomoffended for a week. The visit passed most successfully, MademoiselleLoire's cooking being quite as much appreciated as she had expected,and when the visitors said good-bye, Barbara left the sisterscongratulating themselves on their success.

  A few days later the final word was added to the truce between thesisters by Mademoiselle Therese proposing that _she_ should stay athome and look after the house, while her sister took Barbara and Mariefor a visit to Cancale, whose beauties, Mademoiselle Therese assuredBarbara, had a world-wide renown.

  But the elder sister, though obviously pleased by the suggestion,thought she would rather "Therese" went, while she stayed in St. Servanand paid a few calls that she was desirous of making.

  After much discussion it was so determined, and the following dayMademoiselle Therese, with the two girls, set off after lunch by thetrain. The ride was a pleasant one, and the magnificent view of theBay of Cancale with the Mont St. Michel in the distance delightedBarbara's heart. She much preferred the quaint little fishing village,La Houle, nestling at the foot of the cliffs, to the more fashionablequarter of the town; but Mademoiselle Therese, who was bent on "seeingthe fashions of the visitors," led the way with energy to the hotelhalf way up the cliff. It was certainly gay enough there, and theFrenchwoman explained to her pupil "that if one noticed the costumes atseaside resorts it often saved buying fashion-books."

  They sat on the terrace, mademoiselle and Marie dividing theirattention between a stout lady, in a gorgeous toilet of purple trimmedwith blue, and oysters, which, the Frenchwoman assured Barbara, were"one of the beauties of the place." But the latter contented herselfwith tea, wondering idly, as she drank it, why the beverage so oftentasted of stewed hay. After their refreshment they strolled round thetown, and then sat upon the promenade, watching the sun travel slowlydown the sky towards the sea-line.

  Suddenly mademoiselle remembered the time, and, looking at her watch,declared they had but a few minutes in which to get to the train, andthat they must run if they wished to catch it. Off they started,mademoiselle panting in the rear, calling upon the girls to wait, andgasping out that it would be of no use to arrive without her. Theywere extremely glad on arriving at the terminus to see that they hadstill a minute or two to spare.

  "We are in time for the train?" mademoiselle asked of a _gendarme_standing near the station house.

  The man stared at her.

  "Certainly, madame," he said at last; "but would it not be as well tocome here in the morning?"

  "In the morning!" she echoed. "You foolish fellow! We want to go bythis train--it should be here now--it leaves at 7.30."

  "Ah!" the man said, and he seemed to understand. "I fear you have lost_that_ train by several days; it went last Sunday."

  "What!" screamed mademoiselle. "How dare you mock me! I will reportyou."

  "That must be as madame wishes," returned the man with horriblecalmness; "but the train madame wishes to get only runs on Sundays,and, therefore, she must wait several days for the next. If any othertrain will do, there is one in the morning at 9.30."

  Barbara wanted to laugh, but consideration--or fear--of MademoiselleTherese--kept her quiet, and they stood gazing at one another insorrowful silence. A ten-mile walk at 7.30 in the evening, unless withvery choice companions, is not an unmitigated pleasure, especially whenone has been walking during the day. However, there was nothing for itbut to walk, as a conveyance, if obtainable, would have been tooexpensive for Mademoiselle Therese's economical ideas.

  They declared at first that it was a lovely evening, and began to cheertheir way by sprightly conversation, but a mile or two of dustyhighroad told upon them, and silence fell with the darkness. It was aparticularly hot evening too, and great heat, as every one knows,frequently tends to irritation, so perhaps their silence was judicious.Mademoiselle Therese kept murmuring at intervals that it really wasmost annoying, as her sister would have been expecting them muchearlier, and would be so vexed. Perhaps visions of a secondretirement, which no "family friend" would come to relieve, floatedbefore her eyes.

  More than half the distance had been covered when they heard the soundof wheels behind them.

  "A carriage!" cried mademoiselle, roused to sudden energy, "they _must_give us a lift," and drawing up by the side of the road, they waitedanxiously to know their fate. It was fairly dark by this time, andthey could not distinguish things clearly, but they saw a big horse,with a light, open cart behind. When mademoiselle first began tospeak, the driver took not the least notice, but after going a fewyards, pursued by her with praiseworthy diligence and surprisingvigour, he pulled up and pointed to the seat behind, the place besidehim being already filled by a trunk.

  The wanderers scrambled in joyfully, greatly pleased with their goodluck, and it was not until they were in their places, and near the man,that they discovered he had been drinking freely and was not asclear-headed as he might have been. If there had been time they wouldall have got out again, but he whipped up so quickly that there was nochance. He continued to whip up, moreover, till they were going at amost break-neck speed.

  Mademoiselle, clinging madly to the side of the cart, begged him in themidst of her gasps and exclamations to let them descend; but the moreshe begged and the more desperate she became, the better pleased heseemed, and it really looked as if they might all be thrown into theditch. Then mademoiselle, who was always rather nervous about driving,broke into shrill screams, with Marie joining in at intervals--Gilpin'sflight was nothing to it--and the cart jolted and swayed so that calmexpostulation was impossible.

  A lesson in rough-riding to a beginner could not have proved a moredisjointing experience, and the man, chuckling over theloudly-expressed fear of his companions, drove on. Fortunately, therewere not many turns, and the road was fairly wide all the way; but onceBarbara felt the hedge brush her face, and Marie's handkerchief, whichshe had been using to mop up her tears, was borne away a few minuteslater by the bushes on the opposite side of the road.

  The only thing that could be said in favour of the drive was that theycovered the ground with great speed, and the thought occurred toBarbara that it would be by no means pleasant to enter the streets ofSt. Servan with their present driver and two screaming women, as, apartfrom other considerations, they might meet
the policeman, and theencounter would be unpleasant.

  She told mademoiselle and Marie that if they did not want to be killedor locked up in the _prefecture_, they must jump off the back of thecart while going up the hill outside the town. The horse, after itswild career, would calm down on the incline, besides which, a fall inthe road would be preferable to being thrown through a shop window.

  It took very forcible language to make Mademoiselle Therese facepresent terror rather than await the future; but, when the horse reallydid slow down to a walk, and the two girls had reached the ground insafety, she made a mighty effort, and floundered out in a heap upon theroad, making so much noise that Barbara was afraid the man wouldrealise they were gone, and insist upon their getting in again.

  But he whipped up at that moment, and the noise of the cart drowned thedolorous complaints. The girls soothed their companion by assuring herthat in ten minutes they would be home, when, most assuredly, hersister's heart would be moved to pity by their sorry plight and thetale of their adventures.

  Just as they arrived at their own door they met Mademoiselle Loirehurrying up, and her sister, thinking she was coming to look for them,and not knowing the reception she might get, fell upon her neck,pouring forth with incoherent sobs and explanations the tale of theirwoes.

  Mademoiselle Loire was most sympathetic and unreproachful, and, havingdried her sister's tears, led her into the house, where the whole partysat down to cake and cider, under the influence of which MademoiselleTherese quite recovered, and retold their adventures, Barbara realisingfor the first time, as she listened, what heroines they had been!

  Their screaming advance along the highroad became a journey, where theysat grimly, with set teeth, listening to the curses of a madman, andbowing their heads to escape having them cut off repeatedly by thebranches of trees.

  Their ignominious exit from the cart on the hill became a desperateleap into the darkness, when the vehicle was advancing at full gallop;and when Barbara finally rose to say good-night, she felt as if theyhad all been princesses in a fairy-tale, in which, alas! there had beenno prince.

  She learned two things on the morrow--not counting the conviction thatriding at a gallop in a cart made one desperately stiff. The first wasfrom Marie, who told her that Mademoiselle Loire's forbearance withtheir late return, and her intense sympathy with their adventures,probably arose from the fact that she had just been returning from herown expedition when she met the wanderers, and had been filled withvery similar fears concerning her reception as those which had filledher sister's heart.

  The other fact, which Barbara read aloud to Mademoiselle Therese fromthe newspaper, was that Jean Malet had been apprehended for furiousdriving at a late hour the previous night, and would have to pay aheavy fine.

  "How he had come safely through the streets at such speed," said thejournalist, "was a miracle. Fortunately, there was no one in the cartbut himself."

  "Fortunately, indeed, there was not," remarked Barbara, folding up thepaper.