Little Peter: A Christmas Morality for Children of any Age

by Lucas Malet

  CHAPTER VIII.

  WHICH PROVES THAT EVEN PHILOSOPHIC POLITICIANS MAY HAVE TO ADMITTHEMSELVES IN THE WRONG.

  But now it is quite time for us to go back to the old, woodenfarm-house on the edge of the forest, and see what Master Lepage, andGustavus, and that intelligent and experienced person, Cincinnatus, aredoing, while the rest of the household are wandering, alas! not withoutgrowing alarm, and even suffering, in the darkness and cold and snow.

  In point of fact, then, though Master Lepage had been so verydetermined to please himself by sitting at home, he had found the dayuncommonly long and dull. For he was one of those sociable personswho are never quite happy without an audience to hold forth toand instruct, and convince of their own remarkable wisdom and thehearers' equally remarkable folly. And then, too, for all that heappeared somewhat dictatorial and high-handed, Lepage was at bottoman affectionate and warm-hearted man, who loved his wife and childrentenderly. And so, as the afternoon drew on, and the wind rose and theclouds gathered, he began to get into a fine fume and fret. He walkedup and down the warm, cosy kitchen as restless as a bear in a pit; andknocked double postman's knocks on the weather glass, and declared outloud that the mercury was going up, when he saw perfectly well thatit was going down; and did a number of other useless things to try topersuade himself that he was not one bit anxious or uneasy.

  'How inferior is the education of men to that of cats!' thoughtCincinnatus. 'Before I was old enough to lap milk out of a saucer,my mother had taught me the vulgarity of giving way to purposelessagitation. "Calm," she would say, "is even a greater sign ofgood-breeding than a curl of hair inside the ears." In my poor master,there, calm and ear-curls alike are wanting. What a situation! Thankheaven, I at least was born a cat!'

  But, you see, Master Lepage had really some cause for his restlessness,for all this while he was struggling with an unseen enemy. Deep downin that innermost chamber of the heart--the door of which we most ofus keep so tight shut because we know Truth sits within weighing andjudging all our thoughts and actions, and letting us know from time totime just what she thinks about them in the very plainest language--inthat innermost heart-chamber, I say, Lepage was aware that there was abusy, active feeling of shame and remorse. And while Truth pushed hardat the door inside to let the Feeling out, he pushed equally hard onthe outside to keep the Feeling in. But when finally the snow began tofall, and the daylight lessen, and the storm grow fierce and fiercer,Truth pushed and bumped and banged upon the poor door so unmercifullythat Master Lepage, sturdy veteran though he was, grew quite weary ofopposing her. And so the busy Feeling popped out first its head, andthen its two arms, and then squeezed itself out all together, and beganracing up and down the whole length and breadth of the old soldier'sheart in the most audacious manner.

  'You were obstinate and conceited this morning,' said the Feeling; 'youwouldn't listen to John Paqualin, the charcoal-burner. Look at thesnow!'

  'The glass was rising,' answered Lepage. 'I am perfectly certain itwas. And John Paqualin is a madman.'

  'Madman yourself,' said the Feeling--for feelings are very free-spoken,you know, and don't mince matters--'madman yourself for letting yourwife, who is a delicate woman, and that poor child, little Peter, runsuch a risk of cold, and fatigue, and perhaps worse.'

  'Antony knows the way,' answered Lepage again. 'And he's an ablefellow.'

  'He is a boy, and like most boys is thoughtless and self-opinionated.He takes after you in that last, by the same token,' said the Feeling.

  'I am a philosophic politician,' cried Lepage, somewhat hotly. 'Iworship the goddess of Reason.'

  'Do you?' said the Feeling. 'And these newspapers you were so anxiousto sit at home and read to-day, full--as you perfectly well know--ofgarbled news, and one-sided statements, and of cheap party cries--theyare the voice of Reason, are they?'

  'Hang you!' answered Lepage--which was not at all a pretty way ofanswering. But then, you see, poor Master Lepage was getting veryangry because he was very uncomfortable; and when persons are bothuncomfortable and angry they are liable to make use of expressionswhich, very properly, are not printed in the French and Englishconversation books that you study in the schoolroom.--'I won't listento you. So away with you. I have no doubt--'

  'No doubt, haven't you?' said the Feeling. 'Well, I am glad to hearthat.'

  'No doubt at all--ten thousand plagues on you--no doubt at all, I say,that my wife and children will be home in ten minutes at the latest.Meanwhile I will read a little. I will improve my mind with the historyof those grand, old Romans.'

  So Lepage got down the history book, and it fell open at one of hisfavourite passages--the account of the Consul, Marcus Attilius Regulus,who, rather than break his word, left his home and kindred and gavehimself up to his pitiless enemies, and bore in silence all the crueltortures to which they subjected him.

  'There was a man!' cried Lepage, as he wiped his spectacles with hisred pocket-handkerchief.

  'Yes, indeed, a very different man to you, Francis Louis Lepage,' saidthe Feeling.

  'Why, why what do you mean? Twenty thousand cut-throat Prussians!--atleast I am no coward. No one has ever accused me of that before. Whatwas I ever afraid of?'

  WAITING. _Page 120._]

  'Of a little trouble,' answered the Feeling. 'Of a walk, for instance,when you felt inclined to sit at home smoking--of what one or twosilly, feather-headed fellows, who fancy themselves mighty sharp andclever, might perhaps say about you, if you were seen kneeling downbeside your wife and sons, in the church there, with your headuncovered, praying God to forgive you your sins.--Pooh, don't talkabout your courage to me!' said the Feeling.

  Master Lepage sat very still for some time after that in thewindow-seat, with the Roman History wide open before him; but he didnot care to go on reading about the Consul Regulus. He remembered howlittle Peter had climbed on his knee on Friday evening, and coaxed himto go to Nullepart to see the Infant Jesus and the stable; and hadsaid--poor, little lad, what a nice, little face he had--Lepage rubbedthe end of his hooked nose, and sniffed--that if only his father camewith them they would all be so happy.

  'Well, I hope they have been happy,' he said to himself. 'It is morethan I have been, in any case.'

  He turned and looked out of window. Ah! how it snowed, and how dark itwas growing.

  'And with this wind, on the moorland the snow will drift. If they havethe intelligence of a blue owl between them they will have startedearly!' he cried quite fiercely. 'Ten thousand plagues--poor dearsouls,' he added, for Master Lepage was getting a little confusedsomehow.

  He hurried across the kitchen to the house-door and flung it wideopen, and standing on the threshold, gazed long and earnestly down thedim forest path, drawing his shaggy eyebrows together till they stoodout like _chevaux de frise_ above his keen, grey eyes.

  'Ho-la, ho-la, hey!' he shouted. But there was no answer save theroaring of the wind among the pines and the soft 'hush, hush,' of thefalling snow.

  Now for some time past Cincinnatus had been sitting very composedlystaring with his great, yellow eyes into the glowing log fire, andmeditating pleasantly on the inferiority of men to cats. But whenMaster Lepage, a prey to that remorseful Feeling which Truth hadlet loose to tramp where it would up and down his heart, threw thehouse-door wide open, the icy breath of the North Wind rushed wildlyinto the kitchen, and made our friend Cincinnatus feel uncommonly coolabout the back.

  'Neither calm nor ear-curls, dear me!' he murmured to himself as herose slowly, stretching one fore leg and then the other, and then eachhind leg in turn--shaking the last leg rapidly for a moment, too,because it was slightly cramped--and yawning the while so wide, thathis pink tongue was curled up quite tight, like a rolling-pin, at theback of his mouth. Then he moved away with dignity, intending to takeup his station upon the cushion of the big arm-chair that stood in thecorner nicely out of the draught. But all of a sudden Cincinnatus heardsomething that made him jump all on one side with an arched back and abristling
tail, and say 'Pffzsh!' twice over, as loud as ever he hadsaid it in his life.

  It was an unfamiliar sound that so startled Cincinnatus, for MasterLepage was pulling strongly at the rope of the big bell that hung underthe centre gable of the old house, and the urgent clang of its ironvoice rang through the thick, snow-laden air far over the forest. Thebell had been placed there long years before to summon neighbours--thehouse standing in a solitary place--in case of fire or accident. Andnow Lepage rang it with a double purpose, trusting that even if itsfriendly tones failed to reach the ears of the poor wanderers, itmight at least bring Gustavus, the cowherd, from his father's cottageon the edge of the pastures, where he was spending the Sunday, and thathe might help him search for the wife and children whom he loved sowell.

  'By my great-grandmother's whiskers!' exclaimed Cincinnatus, as hesettled himself down on the chair cushion, 'what with draughts, andbell-ringing, and one thing and another, this house will soon beimpossible for a cat of any pretensions to gentility. Compare itwith the Sacristan's establishment, now, where you can't tell oneday from another except by the smell of the different soups fordinner.--Delightful!--With an occasional vocal evening, too, in theback garden, when the moon is full. Lots are strangely unequal in thisworld!--Pffzsh! and to add to everything else, if there actually is notthat intolerable charcoal-burner.'

  John Paqualin stood on the threshold, a flaming torch of pine boughsin his hand; his long, unkempt hair was white with snow, and so wasthe tattered cloth cloak that hung in so many folds from his stoopingshoulders. His eyes were bright and glowing.

  'Ah! the wind,' he said, 'the glorious wind, the roar and the shout ofit; the cry of the trees that strain, and the passionate snap of thebranches--like heart-strings that snap under the blast of incurablesorrow. And the snow, soft and pure, and light as the coverlet a youngmother lays on her first-born's cradle--getting a little too thick justnow, though, that coverlet.--Eh! what's this? have you smothered theinfant--laid it over the face as well? Be careful, then, with your--Butthe bell,' he added suddenly, interrupting himself, and catching holdof Master Lepage with his hard, thin fingers--'it called to me, while Iwas listening to the roll of the drums, and the blare of the trumpets,and the scream of the fifes in the forest there, and made me comehither whether I would or no. What do you want spoiling all my splendidwind-music with your infernal bell-clatter?'

  'Want!' cried Lepage hoarsely; 'I want help.'

  Paqualin laughed aloud.

  'Hey-ho,' he said. 'Times are changed, are they? I never heard you singthat song before.'

  Lepage let go the bell-rope, and raised his clenched fist. But he didnot strike the blow. Something stopped him. Perhaps it was that sameremorseful Feeling which Truth had let loose in his heart.

  'Come inside, Paqualin,' he said quite quietly, after a moment or two.'Now try to remember.--My wife and sons and our maid-servant went tochurch at Nullepart this morning. You did your best to prevent themgoing. You said the snow was coming, and it has come. They should havebeen back a good two hours ago, and they are not here yet.'

  'Not here yet,' repeated the charcoal-burner slowly.

  'No, not yet.' Lepage drew his hand across his eyes. 'Would to God,' hesaid, 'I had gone along with them.--But see now, I will light the lampand leave the house-door open; and then will go out to search for them.You can find your way like a hound, they say, by night or day, throughthe forest. Will you come with me and help me?'

  Paqualin stood in front of the fire; the snow on his hair and cloakmelted and ran down, forming a little pool of water about his ill-shodfeet.

  'I am not over and above fond of you, Francis Lepage,' he saidpresently, 'as you most likely know already. Love and hatred alike cantell their own story without much need of spoken words. I think you avain man and a hard one; but your wife is as pitiful as the saints inheaven. You want me to help you to find her? You have not got a dog todo the work for you, and so you'll take me. Ah, well! I've known thedog's place pretty well all my life long;--the kicks and the cuffs, andthe grudging crust from the master's table; and then the "Here! my goodfellow, good cur, here! nose down, tail up, the scent's cold, but stillyou're sharp enough to find it; and sweat and faint to catch the harethat will make your owner a savoury supper, while you slink home to thedirty straw and the mouldy crust again." Yes, yes--to be sure, I'll gowith you and find them and bring them home; your fair wife and yourchildren, and leave you happy and go back to my hut and the voices--notfor your sake though, mind you, but for hers--the only woman whose eyeshave ever looked kindly upon me.'

  'Come on your own terms,' said Lepage.

  Just then Gustavus, in his heavy boots, came clumping into the kitchen.

  'The bell, master--has the red cow calved of a sudden?' he asked. Foronce in his life Gustavus appeared to be quite excited. He forgot totake off his hat or put down his big cotton umbrella, from off whichthe wet snow slipped in little avalanches, _sthlop_, on to the floor.

  'Calf thyself, with thy great, stupid, cheese face!' cried thecharcoal-burner.

  Then while Lepage gave the cowherd his orders, and got some thingstogether to take with them, Paqualin stood murmuring to himself, withhis head bent low, and his lean, grimy hands stretched out towards thecomfortable blaze of the fire:--

  'You, the man, welcome, and brave, and beloved. I, the dog, to show theman the way. Gustavus, there, the ass, to trot behind loaded up withthe blankets, and the food, and the brandy. And in the end, what? Abone for the dog, a thistle for the ass, and for the man kisses. Whichhas the best of it? Hardly fair, is it, eh?'

  'Umph,' said Gustavus, as he got the big bundle on to his back.'Perhaps she'll be a bit soft-hearted when she sees me. Maybe the snowwill have taken some of the starch out of our Eliza.'