The Exiles

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Oh, yes, Sister Martha.”

  “Fine! You will be living in with us for a time. I suppose your father has told you.”

  The words struck Chantel hard, and she twisted her head quickly to look at her father.

  “Sister Martha and I decided it would be better for you to stay at the convent for a time. Later on you may come back home.”

  “But, Papa—”

  “I meant to tell you about this, but it slipped my mind.”

  Chantel instantly knew that this was not true. Her father often put off things that were unpleasant. She had come to the convent hopeful and excited. Now a heaviness settled upon her, and she dropped her head.

  Sister Martha saw the girl’s reaction and said quickly, “I’m sure you will enjoy it here. You will have plenty of companions, and though the studies are hard, we will find entertainment for you. And you will see your father very often. Is it not so, monsieur?”

  “Why, certainly!” Cretien reached over and put his arm around Chantel. “I will come and get you, and we will go riding in the park. And I will take you out often to the theater.”

  Chantel blinked back her tears and tried to smile, for she knew her father did not like to see her sad. “All right, Papa,” she said. “Please come often.”

  “Now then. Say good-bye to your father, and I will introduce you to your instructors. Then you will meet some of your fellow students.”

  Sister Agnes was a short woman with a round, reddish face and brown eyes. Chantel knew at once that she would be a hard woman to please.

  “All right, girls. This is our new scholar, Chantel Renee Fontaine. I will let you introduce yourselves to her. Then we will begin our class.”

  Sister Martha had brought Chantel to a classroom where Sister Agnes was teaching a group of fifteen girls. Chantel saw at a glance that some of them were very young, no more than nine or ten. Others seemed older, as much as fifteen, perhaps sixteen.

  Sister Agnes examined Chantel with a steely glance, assigned her a seat, and said, “We will now proceed with the lesson. Chantel, you will have to study hard to catch up, for you are beginning late.”

  “Yes, Sister Agnes.”

  “I permit no laziness in here. You will work hard and do extra work until you are up with the rest of the class. You understand?”

  “Yes, I will do my very best.”

  “I expect it.” Sister Agnes turned to the board and wrote out an algebraic formula. She turned and began to call out names. “Angelique, you will solve this problem.”

  A tall girl of about fifteen, rather pretty but with a sullen expression, went to the board. Her lower lip was stuck out in a pout, and for a time she struggled with the problem. Finally Sister Agnes said, “You are a sluggard, Angelique. Come here.”

  Angelique looked frightened, but she came over to stand before the stubby nun. “Put out your hand.” Sister Agnes took out a footlong ruler, and when Angelique held out a trembling hand she struck it sharply twice. Angelique winced and went to her seat with a sharp reprimand.

  Several other girls tried the formula, and none of them could solve it. Each received the same punishment. Finally Sister Agnes said, “All right, Laurel, you are our star student in algebra. Come and work the problem.”

  A short girl with a round face and rather heavy figure came forward. She did better than the rest, but when she turned, Sister Agnes snorted, “I am disappointed in you, Laurel! Take your seat. You will do twenty extra problems for tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Sister Agnes.”

  Sister Agnes glared at the group, and finally her eyes lit on Chantel. “Well, have you had any training in algebra?”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “Come and work this problem then.”

  A snicker went around the room as Chantel got up, and she heard the girl named Angelique whisper, “What a beanpole! She’s skinny as a snake.”

  Chantel’s face reddened, but she went to the board. Her instructor in mathematics had been one of the priest’s assistants. He was an amiable young man and had quickly discovered that whatever brain cells make a person adept at algebra, Chantel had. He had been delighted with her progress and had gone through advanced problems with her.

  Chantel took the chalk and worked the problem rapidly. When she put down the answer, she said, “I think this is right, Sister Agnes.”

  Sister Agnes’s eyes grew round. “Well,” she said with surprise, “it is correct! Very good! Very good indeed, Chantel!” Then she turned to the class and for five minutes shamed them for letting a new stu- dent show them all up. She said, “Some of you need help. I will expect you, Chantel, to help the slower students—which seems to be everyone.”

  “I’ll be glad to do anything I can to help, Sister Agnes.”

  Chantel took her seat, and the lessons went on. After the algebra class several of the younger students came up and introduced themselves. A slender, doe-eyed girl named Helen begged for help. “I just can’t get this into my head, Chantel.”

  “It’s easy. I’ll help you,” Chantel assured her.

  And then they were interrupted by a voice that said, “Well, Stick Legs, are you happy that you’ve embarrassed the rest of us?”

  Chantel turned to find Angelique and Laurel standing there. The other girls had drawn back, and Sister Agnes had left the room. Laurel suddenly reached out and struck Chantel in the chest with her fist. “You think you’re so smart! Well, you’d better not be too smart, or you’ll be sorry!”

  Angelique reached out and pulled Chantel’s hair. “Don’t be thinking too well of yourself. We’re the oldest students here, and you’ll do exactly as we say. You’ll polish my shoes tonight. You understand me?”

  “I will if Sister Agnes tells me to.”

  “You’ll do it if I tell you to!” Angelique snapped, her eyes gleaming.

  “Why don’t you shut up, Angelique!” Chantel turned to see a girl with hair as black as a raven and eyes to match. Those black eyes were glinting now with anger, and she stepped in front of Angelique and pushed her backward. “You’re not the pope, so stop acting like you’re somebody important!”

  Angelique’s face turned red and she shouted, “Get out of my face, Damita!” When Angelique tried to shove the dark-haired girl aside, she instantly received a resounding slap on the cheek. Grabbing her face, she screamed, “I’ll tell Sister Agnes on you!”

  “Go on and tell, you little squealer.” Damita turned to Chantel and laughed, her eyes dancing. “You don’t have to do anything Elephant Nose tells you. If she tries to make you polish her shoes, just shove them down her throat. I’ll help you if you like.”

  “You stop calling me names!” Angelique shouted.

  Damita laughed and suddenly reached out and pulled Angelique’s nose. “I’ll just pull it a little longer!” Angelique let out a scream and struck out at Damita, who dodged the blow easily and struck Angelique in the face. Laurel at once threw herself at Damita, and the smaller girl was knocked backward. Chantel leaped at Laurel and, grabbing a double handful of hair, began to drag her away.

  Four more girls joined the battle while the others stood watching, most of them shouting as the fight raged.

  Suddenly the door opened and Sister Agnes dashed into the room, shouting, “Stop this! What’s going on?” Her face was flushed and she pulled Chantel away from Laurel, demanding, “We don’t do such things here.”

  “She started it, Sister!” Angelique cried. “She just starting hitting us!”

  “You are a liar, Angelique!” Damita’s black eyes glowed, and she turned to face the nun, saying, “Angelique and Laurel were the ones who started it.”

  “I can’t believe that!”

  Damita faced the nun fearlessly. “You never believe the truth about them. They cause all the trouble here, and you’re so afraid of their parents because they’re rich and give lots of money to the school, that you let them get by with it!”

  Sister Agnes’ face turned red, then pale. She started t
o shout at Damita, but then changed her mind. “You are insolent, Damita Madariaga! Your parents will hear of this!”

  Damita laughed suddenly. “They will hear of it, because I will tell them. And we both know that my father gives more to this convent than anyone else!”

  “That’s enough!” Sister Agnes said, but Damita’s words had a strong effect, for she said with an effort, “Take your seats, all of you.” She stared at Chantel and said, “There was no trouble here until you came. You will be punished—and I will tell the Mother Superior of your doings!”

  Chantel waited all day to be called before the Mother Superior, but to her relief, nothing came of it. She went to her classes, and that night before dinner, Damita came to her. She was smiling as she said, “I’ll bet you were scared you’d be called for punishment, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be,” Damita grinned. “That old Agnes knew she’d get in trouble if I told my father about her.”

  “It was nice of you to stand up to Angelique and the others for me.”

  “It was fun!” Damita turned and motioned to two girls who were standing off to her right. When they came close, she said, “This is Simone d’Or.”

  Simone was a tall, strongly built girl with long blond hair and dark blue eyes. She had a squarish face and a determined chin, an easygoing girl, but with a trace of rebelliousness.

  “It was nice of you to come to my defense in class.”

  “I’ve been waiting to punch those girls!” Simone said. “Don’t you knuckle under to them!”

  “None of us are going to do that,” Damita said. Turning to the fourth girl, she said, “This is Leonie Dousett.” She put her arm around the small girl and laughed. “You’re so meek I was surprised to see you tackle that girl. You’ve got a tiger in you, Leonie!”

  Leonie smiled shyly. “I was surprised at myself. It’s the first fight I ever had.” Like Chantel, she had auburn hair. She was small, almost frail, with a timid air about her. She had the sweetest spirit of any of the four. “I never hit anyone in my whole life.”

  Damita’s dark eyes were glowing, and she had a way of speaking that underscored her fiery spirit. “Listen, we’re going to cut down Angelique and those crows who hang out with her!”

  “Good!” Simone nodded. “I’m sick of them all.”

  “Everyone is, but everyone’s scared of them,” Damita said. “Now, I’ve been thinking ever since the fight. We four are going to put a stop to their bullying, and here’s the way we’ll do it—if one of them picks on any girl in this school, the four of us will make her sorry!”

  “How will we do that?” Leonie asked.

  “I can think of lots of ways,” Damita nodded. “We’ll gang up on her after lights out!”

  “But she’ll tell on us!” Leonie protested.

  “Good! Then we’ll catch her alone and get her twice as much and cut all her hair off!”

  Simone giggled, “I like it! We’ll be sort of a secret club.”

  Chantel said, “We’ll be the Four Musketeers—just like in the book! One for all, and all for one!”

  The girls began to giggle, and suddenly Chantel was happy. She had felt so alone, but now she had three friends. She put her arm around Damita, saying, “I don’t feel so bad now, Damita.”

  “All for one—and one for all, Chantel!” said Assumpta Damita de Salvedo y Madariaga. She did a dance as they moved toward the dining hall. “I hope Angelique tries something pretty soon! I can’t wait for the Four Musketeers to show their might!”

  Angelique Fortier had been a tyrant too long to give up her power. She had been humiliated by Damita, but it was the new girl that aroused her hatred. She waited no longer than Chantel’s first night to seek her revenge. She made a plan with Laurel Dutretre, and late that night, she struck.

  The two girls crept into the room that Chantel shared with five other girls and fell on Chantel while she was asleep.

  Chantel cried as hands dragged her out of her bed.

  “Now you’re going to get it!” Laurel declared.

  Angelique had a belt and struck Chantel across the legs with it.

  Chantel was of a rather placid temperament, but the blow enraged her. She threw herself onto Angelique and grabbed two handfuls of hair. Angelique screamed at the top of her lungs while Laurel began to pummel Chantel.

  Suddenly the room filled, and Chantel was freed from the grasp of the two girls. She came to her feet to see Damita, Simone, and Leonie—all in their nightgowns. Damita was carrying a belt, and she said, “I thought you’d try something like this! Hold them down, Musketeers!” The Musketeers surrounded Laurel and Angelique and held them down.

  The cries quickly brought Sister Martha into the room, and she snatched the belt from Damita’s grasp. “What in the world are you doing?” she demanded.

  Angelique was crying in great blubbery sobs. “They got us in here with lies, Sister!” She clung to the nun, inventing lies at a rapid rate.

  “She’s a liar!” Damita said. “She and Laurel came in here to whip Chantel, and we gave them a taste of the their own medicine!”

  Sister Martha held up her hand. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” She turned to a shorter, younger girl whose face already showed fear. “Who started this, Mary Ann?”

  The young girl took one frightened glance at Angelique, who gave her a vicious stare and held up a fist behind Sister Martha’s back.

  “It—it was her. The new girl.”

  At that moment Chantel knew that her fate was set. She listened as several girls—all frightened of what would happen to them if they implicated Angelique and Laurel—lied boldly to Sister Martha.

  The nun turned to Chantel. “I’m disappointed in you, Chantel. Your first night and already in trouble. I’m going to have to punish you severely. You will report to me tomorrow morning before classes. Now, all of you go to bed. If I hear one more word out of any of you, you will all be very sorry.”

  Sister Martha left, and the girls all went to bed, but not before Laurel hissed one more comment. “You’re not going to like it here, Stick Legs! We’ll make you wish you had never been born!”

  Chantel tried valiantly, but it was useless. Sister Martha believed the testimony of the other girls and said, “You must learn to control your temper, Chantel. I’m restricting you for the next week from all recreational activities. You will have extra work in class. I will not use the rod on you this time since you are new, but the next time you will receive a beating. Do you understand?”

  Chantel lifted her head high. “They lied about me. I don’t tell lies, Sister Martha.”

  Sister Martha hesitated. There was such fearlessness in the girl that she could not feel easy about her decision. She well knew that some of the older girls bullied the others, but they were sly, and she had been unable to catch them in it. While she could not relent, for discipline must be upheld, inwardly she resolved to keep a closer eye on what was happening inside the dormitory.

  Chantel was punished for what took place in her room, but she didn’t care. Damita, Simone, and Leonie encouraged her—and Damita threatened Angelique so fiercely that she and all her clique were intimidated.

  After this rather rough introduction to her new life, Chantel found the school bearable. She had been hungry for friends, and now she had three of them! Everyone in the school, including the nuns, recognized that these four were knitted together in some sort of mystic bond.

  Sister Martha remarked to Sister Agnes, “I think those four are going to be all right. I’ve been worried for some time about Angelique. She’s a cruel girl—but those four seem to have found a way to deal with her.”

  “Yes, they have,” Sister Agnes agreed. “With a belt! I was shocked at first, but the ‘Four Musketeers’—as they call themselves—have actually brought a good thing to the other girls.”

  “They’re very strong willed, aren’t they? Except for Leonie, of course.”

  �
�Yes, they are. But it took something like this to stop Angelique and her crowd from persecuting the others.”

  Chantel’s life fell into a pattern. She did well in her studies, for she was by far the most advanced student of all the girls. She did especially well in mathematics and in languages, but she did not do as well in the other areas, such as sewing and the domestic sciences.

  Many weeks later, Chantel went home for a visit with her father. He had received a recent report from the school about Chantel. “Sister Martha sent me a report of misbehavior. What were you thinking?”

  Chantel looked at her father and told the whole story about Damita and Laurel—and about the Four Musketeers. “I’m telling the truth, Papa. All the others are afraid of Angelique and Laurel. They’re horrible girls. They steal from the younger ones and anyone who is weak.” She held her head high. “It is the truth. I swear it.”

  Cretien stared at his daughter. He knew that she was an exceedingly truthful girl. Only once that he knew of had she told him a lie, when she was no more than seven or eight. She had come to him the next day in tears confessing her fault, for she had been unable to live with it. Since that time he had never found her to be untruthful in any way.

  Now he said, “I am sorry it is that way.”

  “May I come home and live with you, Papa?”

  Cretien nodded. “Yes, I think that might be best. You will still attend classes, but you will not be subject to those awful girls.”

  “Oh, Papa, I’m so happy!”

  Cretien held Chantel. He saw the joy in his daughter’s eyes and felt shame. “It will be all right, mon chère. Don’t trouble yourself any more.”

  Life became bearable for Chantel once she came home. She knew Sister Martha had been surprised by her father’s decision, but there was nothing the nun could do about it. Every day Chantel had breakfast with her father. Robert or Elise walked with her to the convent, where she stayed until four o’clock. The weekends, of course, were free, and she often rode Lady in the park.