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Updated: May 9, 2025
There came to her mind a thought of the peaceful faces of the black-robed sisters, a sound as of the tinkling bell ringing above the old cabbage-ground, a breath sweet with the scent of fresh roses in Jeanne-Marie's little garden; she had a momentary impulse to go, to fly somewhere, anywhere ah! but whither? Whither in all the wide world could she go? Back to the convent to be made a nun?
Madelon half expected to find her chair set in the old shady corner, to see Jeanne-Marie's face appearing through the screen of vine-leaves at the open window, to hear her voice calling to her to leave her work, and come and help her make the soup!
Some one had hung up a wreath of immortelles, and a rose-tree, twined round a neighbouring cross, had shed its petals above Jeanne-Marie's head. Madelon knelt down and began to pull out some weeds that had sprung up, whilst Graham stood looking on.
Indeed, Jacques Monnier, who had no mind to be ousted from the convenient little restaurant, where he got good wine and long credit, acted upon the hints he had received, and stuck manfully to Jeanne-Marie's version of her adventure.
And so it happened, that although for a day or two a few rumours were afloat in the village, they soon died away; and it was received as an established fact by those who cared to interest themselves in Jeanne-Marie's affairs, that it was her niece whom the doctor went to see so regularly.
She stood gazing at the child for a moment, as if she would have said something more, then turned away quickly and entered the house. Madelon never thought of connecting Jeanne-Marie's sad looks and ways with her own departure; and indeed, hardly noticed them, in her joy at having accomplished her task, and earned the longed-for thirty francs.
Madelon was still lying on the bed, with her face buried in the pillow; a violent shivering of cold or of fear had seized her, but she resisted Jeanne-Marie's efforts to raise her with the obstinacy of a strong will acted on by intense physical alarm.
A Summer with Jeanne-Marie. At the back of Jeanne-Marie's house lay the garden, sheltered by the steep rocky hill that rose just beyond.
Then Jeanne-Marie's husband had come into the house, and borrowed five francs from him and was very maudlin, and asked what the devil he was going to do with that brat, which cried all the time. But the little one was quiet when Yves took it in his arms, so poor Frenchy asked if he might take it, because he knew it would die if left there.
And then she hid her face on Jeanne-Marie's shoulder, while the sky was all rosy with the sunset of the last of these peaceful summer days that our Madelon was to spend at Le Trooz.
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