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Jean, who knew of Henriette's straitened circumstances and had been suffering from lack of funds since his relapse, accepted gratefully the fifty francs that the doctor offered him for traveling expenses.
But what avails it?... Even on the straightway 'twere a quarter-hour ride to the outer-suburban locality where the guillotine does its dreadful work. Ancient Paris with its tortuous streets delays them. Ahead, are Jacques-Forget-Not Jacobin troops barriers gates. Poor little Henriette's golden head! Is it not fated to drop in the basket long, long before they can appear?
"Here is our little Hetty," she said, nodding to the French girl, who blushed and bridled. "And Mademoiselle Fielding!" giving the latter a warm handclasp and then patting Henriette's cheek. "Welcome!" She put them at their ease at once. The few family portraits on the walls were all the decorations of the room. The book cases themselves were empty. Madame la Countess made the tea.
Henriette's heart thumped with joy o'er the cheering prospect. She kissed and fondled Louise and even teased her. Reading or chatting to the blind girl, sewing her frocks or performing a thousand and one kindly services, her sole thought was to distract and enliven the prisoned soul behind the darkened windows.
The reason for Aunt Abelard's uprooting would become apparent to the French people, and their momentary feeling against the Americans would change. Henriette's face was quite flushed, however, when she stopped her car and returned briefly Ruth's greeting. "How is Aunt Abelard?" the latter asked.
It happened that immediately afterwards George learned of an opportunity to purchase the practice of a notary, who was ready to retire from business in two months' time. Henriette's father consented to advance a portion of her dowry for this purpose.
It was a simple village, and they took walks in the country, and stopped to refresh themselves at a farmhouse occupied by one of M. Loches' tenants. Here was a rosy and buxom peasant woman, with a nursing child in her arms. She was destined a couple of years later to be the foster-mother of Henriette's little girl and to play an important part in her life.
My thoughts wandered into far-off regions while my eyes were fastened on the splendid tapestry of the yellowing oaks, the stern summits, the bronzed foothills. I asked myself if Henriette's virtue were not, after all, that of ignorance, and if I were indeed guilty of her death. I fought against remorse.
"Beatrice is vanished and with her her smiles; Others shall kiss away Henriette's tears, Others surrender to Marguerite's wiles: Where is La Place with its musketeers? Oh, but the days they shall lengthen to years Ere I return o'er these pathless seas, Carried wherever the Pilot steers! And where are the belles of the balconies? "Prince, where is the tavern's light that cheers?
The only genuine stones were the few purchased from the English jeweler, the others having been sold, one by one, to meet the cruel necessities of life." "It was still the Queen's Necklace, monsieur," replied the countess, haughtily, "and that is something that he, Henriette's son, could not appreciate."
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