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Updated: May 19, 2025
Mother, like a frigate coming to anchor with a favourable wind, sailed into her chair; and behind her stumbled Daddy, looking absent-minded and pre- occupied. Money was uncommonly scarce just then the usual Bourcelles complaint. Conversation in many tongues, unmusically high-pitched, then at once broke loose, led ever by la patronne at the head of the table.
The inexplicable emotion thrilled tumultuously, then dived back again whence it came... It had to do with children and with a woman, it seemed, for the next thing he knew was that he was thinking of children, children of his own, and of the deep yearning Bourcelles had stirred again in him to find their Mother... and, next, of his cousin's story and that wonderful detail in it that the principal role was filled at last, the role in the great Children's Play he himself had felt was vacant.
And Rogers went over to unpack. It was soon done. He sat at his window in the carpenter's house and enjoyed the peace. The spell of evening stole down from the woods. London and all his strenuous life seemed very far away. Bourcelles drew up beside him, opened her robe, let down her forest hair, and whispered to him with her voice of many fountains....
Outside, the Pleiades were rising in the sky, and somewhere in Bourcelles in the rooms above Beguin's shop, to be exact some one was waiting, ready to come over to the Den. His thoughts flew wildly. Passionate longing drove behind them. 'You must come up to me, he heard. They all were Kings and Queens. He played his part, however; no one seemed to notice his preoccupation.
And the sweet spring weather continued; days were bright and warm; the nights were thick with stars. Rogers postponed departure on the flimsiest reasons. It was no easy thing to leave Bourcelles. 'Next week the muguet will be over in the vallon vert. We must pick it quickly together for Tante Anna. Jinny brought every spring flower to Mademoiselle Lemaire in this way the moment they appeared.
'It must be nice when one is two, she whispered ambiguously to Mother with a very anxious face, 'but I'm sure that if a woman can't cook, love flies out of the window. It's a positive calamity, you know. But it was Cousin Henry's last night in Bourcelles, and the spirit of pandemonium was abroad. Neither parent could say no to anything, and mere conversation in corners was out of the question.
There were blue winds, black winds, and winds violent these of purple and flaming scarlet. They lay down, and Cousinenry made a fire. The smoke went up in thin straight lines of blue, melting into the sky. The sun had set half an hour before, and the flush of gold and pink was fading into twilight. The glamour of Bourcelles dropped down upon all three.
The carpenter pulled it for him to the station. 'If I've forgotten anything, my cousin will send it after me, he told Mme. Michaud, as he gulped down hot coffee on the steps. 'Or we can keep it for you, was the answer. 'You'll be coming back soon. She knew, like the others, that one always came back to Bourcelles. She shook hands with him as if he were going away for a night or two.
The Disabled, moreover, were everywhere; it was invidious to select one group and leave the others out. Help the world, yes but what was 'the world'? There were so many worlds. He touched a new one every day and every hour. Which needed his help most? Bourcelles was quite as important, quite as big and hungry as any of the others.
A spiritual being, a man, lives in a city as in a state of siege among his own kind. It was deplorable, it was incredible. In little Bourcelles, a mountain village most would describe pityingly as half civilised and out of the world, there was safety and joy and freedom as of the universe.... His heart contracted as he thus abruptly realised the distressing contrast.
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