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At the Cathedral entrance she kissed them, and then stood for a moment to watch them as they hurried down the street out of sight. On the evening of the 18th of September, Mother Meraut was late in leaving the Cathedral, and it was nearly dark when she reached Madame Coudert's door. Pierrette sat on the steps waiting for her, with Fifine, the cat, in her arms.
He met Pierrette sometimes in the market with her cousin, and shuddered to see the heavy basket she was carrying on her arm. On Sundays he went to church to look for her, dressed in her best clothes. There, for the first time, he became aware that Pierrette was Mademoiselle Lorrain. Pierrette saw him and made him a hasty sign to keep out of sight.
"My rich cousin isn't as kind to me as my poor grandmother was," sobbed Pierrette. "Your grandmother took your money," said Sylvie, "and your cousin will leave you hers." The colonel and the lawyer glanced at each other. "I would rather be robbed and loved," said Pierrette. "Then you shall be sent back whence you came." "But what has the dear little thing done?" asked Madame Vinet.
The lad climbed to the Upper town till he found a spot from which he could see the square and the house where Pierrette lived. He gazed at it mournfully, lost in many thoughts, as though he were entering some grief of which he could not see the end. Pierrette was ill; she was not happy; she pined for Brittany what was the matter with her?
"Pardon, m'sieur!" he exclaimed, bowing, then suddenly glancing at Pierrette at my side he stood for a few seconds, glaring at her as though utterly dumbfounded. "Nom d'un chien!" he gasped. "P'tite Pier'tte! Wouf!" And next second he placed his hand over his mouth, turned, and was lost in the crowd. The girl at my side seemed confused, and it struck me that Madame also recognised him.
"But they are powerless," complained Madame. "Monsieur Lepine, in Paris, expressed his utter contempt for your English police methods. And, in the meantime, Monsieur the father of Mademoiselle has disappeared as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up." "What I fear is that my dear father is dead," exclaimed the pretty Pierrette, with tears in her fine eyes.
"She is tired out with her journey, poor little thing; she wants to go to sleep," said Adele. Pierrette was overcome with a sudden and invincible aversion for her two relatives, a feeling that no one had ever before excited in her. Sylvie and the maid took her up to bed in the room where Brigaut afterwards noticed the white cotton curtain.
When he reached the middle of the square she could see him indistinctly by the starlight; but he saw her quite clearly in the zone of light thrown by the candle. The two children stood thus for over an hour, Pierrette making him signs to go, he starting, she remaining, he coming back to his post, and Pierrette again signing that he must leave her.
It seemed very strange to Pierre and Pierrette that they should walk before their parents, and even before the Doctor and Mademoiselle, but Uncle Sam and Jim arranged the procession, and placed them at its head. So, carrying their bouquet of flowers, they followed obediently where their escort led.
"Three hundred francs at one stroke!" said Sylvie to herself as she got into bed. Pierrette was one of those children of love whom love endows with its tenderness, its vivacity, its gaiety, its nobility, its devotion. Nothing had so far disturbed or wounded a heart that was delicate as that of a fawn, but which was now painfully repressed by the cold greeting of her cousins.
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