Nobody's Girl Page 5

  CHAPTER III

  "POOR LITTLE GIRL"

  What was she to do with thirty francs when she had calculated that theymust at least have one hundred? She turned this question over in hermind sadly as she walked along by the fortifications. She found her wayback easily. She put the money into her mother's hand, for she did notknow how to spend it. It was her mother who decided what to do.

  "We must go at once to Maraucourt," she said.

  "But are you strong enough?" Perrine asked doubtfully.

  "I must be. We have waited too long in the hope that I should getbetter. And while we wait our money is going. What poor Palikare hasbrought us will go also. I did not want to go in this miserablestate...."

  "When must we go? Today?" asked Perrine.

  "No; it's too late today. We must go tomorrow morning. You go and findout the hours of the train and the price of the tickets. It is the Garedu Nord station, and the place where we get out is Picquigny."

  Perrine anxiously sought Grain-of-Salt. He told her it was better forher to consult a time table than to go to the station, which was a longway off. From the time table they learned that there were two trains inthe morning, one at six o'clock and one at ten, and that the fare toPicquigny, third class, was nine francs twenty-five centimes.

  "We'll take the ten o'clock train," said her mother, "and we will take acab, for I certainly cannot walk to the station."

  And yet when nine o'clock the next day came she could not even get tothe cab that Perrine had waiting for her. She attempted the few stepsfrom her room to the cab, but would have fallen to the ground had notPerrine held her.

  "I must go back," she said weakly. "Don't be anxious ... it will pass."

  But it did not pass, and the Baroness, who was watching them depart, hadto bring a chair. The moment she dropped into the seat she fainted.

  "She must go back and lie down," said the Baroness, rubbing her coldhands. "It is nothing, girl; don't look so scared ... just go and findCarp. The two of us can carry her to her room. You can't go ... not justnow."

  The Baroness soon had the sick woman in her bed, where she regainedconsciousness.

  "Now you must just stay there in your bed," said the Baroness, kindly."You can go just as well tomorrow. I'll get Carp to give you a nice cupof bouillon. He loves soup as much as the landlord loves wine; winterand summer he gets up at five o'clock and makes his soup; good stuff itis, too. Few can make better."

  Without waiting for a reply, she went to Carp, who was again at hiswork.

  "Will you give me a cup of your bouillon for our patient?" she asked.

  He replied with a smile only, but he quickly took the lid from asaucepan and filled a cup with the savory soup.

  The Baroness returned with it, carrying it carefully, so as not to spilla drop.

  "Take that, my dear lady," she said, kneeling down beside the bed."Don't move, but just open your lips."

  A spoonful was put to the sick woman's lips, but she could not swallowit. Again she fainted, and this time she remained unconscious for alonger time. The Baroness saw that the soup was not needed, and so asnot to waste it, she made Perrine take it.

  A day passed. The doctor came, but there was nothing he could do.

  Perrine was in despair. She wondered how long the thirty francs that LaRouquerie had given her would last. Although their expenses were notgreat, there was first one thing, then another, that was needed. Whenthe last sous were spent, where would they go? What would become of themif they could get no more money?

  She was seated beside her mother's bedside, her beautiful little facewhite and drawn with anxiety. Suddenly she felt her mother's hand,which she held in hers, clasp her fingers more tightly.

  "You want something?" she asked quickly, bending her head.

  "I want to speak to you ... the hour has come for my last words to you,darling," said her mother.

  "Oh, mama! mama!" cried Perrine.

  "Don't interrupt, darling, and let us both try to control ourselves. Idid not want to frighten you, and that is the reason why, until now, Ihave said nothing that would add to your grief. But what I have to saymust be said, although it hurts us both. We are going to part...."

  In spite of her efforts, Perrine could not keep back her sobs.

  "Yes, it is terrible, dear child, and yet I am wondering if, after all,it is not for the best ... that you will be an orphan. It may be betterfor you to go alone than to be taken to them by a mother whom they havescorned. Well, God's will is that you should be left alone ... in a fewhours ... tomorrow, perhaps...."

  For a moment she stopped, overcome with emotion.

  "When I ... am gone ... there will be things for you to do. In my pocketyou will find a large envelope which contains my marriage certificate.The certificate bears my name and your father's. You will be asked toshow it, but make them give it back to you. You might need it later onto prove your parentage. Take great care of it, dear. However, youmight lose it, so I want you to learn it by heart, so that you willnever forget it. Then, when a day comes and you need it, you must getanother copy. You understand? Remember all that I tell you."

  "Yes, mama; yes."

  "You will be very unhappy, but you must not give way to despair. Whenyou have nothing more to do in Paris ... when you are left alone ...then you must go off at once to Maraucourt ... by train if you haveenough money ... on foot, if you have not. Better to sleep by theroadside and have nothing to eat than to stay in Paris. You promise toleave Paris at once, Perrine?"

  "I promise, mama," sobbed the little girl.

  The sick woman made a sign that she wanted to say more, but that shemust rest for a moment. Little Perrine waited, her eyes fixed on hermother's face.

  "You will go to Maraucourt?" said the dying woman after a few momentshad passed. "You have no right to claim anything ... what you get mustbe for yourself alone ... be good, and make yourself loved. All is there... for you. I have hope ... you will be loved for yourself ... theycannot help loving you ... and then your troubles will be over, mydarling."

  She clasped her hands in prayer. Then a look of heavenly rapture cameover her face.

  "I see," she cried; "I see ... my darling will be loved! She will behappy ... she will be cared for. I can die in peace now with thisthought ... Perrine, my Perrine, keep a place in your heart for mealways, child...."

  These words, which seemed like an exaltation to Heaven, had exhaustedher; she sank back on the mattress and sighed. Perrine waited ...waited. Her mother did not speak. She was dead. Then the child left thebedside and went out of the house. In the field she threw herself downon the grass and broke into sobs. It seemed as though her little heartwould break.

  It was a long time before she could calm herself. Then her breath camein hiccoughs. Vaguely she thought that she ought not to leave her motheralone. Someone should watch over her.

  The field was now filled with shadows; the night was falling. Shewandered about, not knowing where she went, still sobbing.

  She passed the wagon for the tenth time. The candy man, who had watchedher come out of the house, went towards her with two sugar sticks in hishand.

  "Poor little girl," he said, pityingly.

  "Oh!..." she sobbed.

  "There, there! Take these," he said, offering her the candy. "Sweetnessis good for sorrow."