Storyteller.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 45, 3 February 1894, Page 13

Storyteller.

THE LITTLE FRENCH BABY.

(By John Strange Winter.)

Two and twenty years ago, a great war was raging between the countries of France and Germany. Which was right and which was wrong ? Well 1 don’t think I know'. I don’t think anybody knows exactly the right and wrong of any war. That has nothing to do with our story, which only concerns a dear little boy baby w'ho w-as the only child of a French officer. He was not altogether a French baby, for he had an English mother, but he had been born in a beautiful old chateau not very far from Met/, the capital city of sunny Lorraine. When war began hopes ran very high in the old chateau on the banks of the beautiful Moselle river, for the gallant French army was on its way to Berlin, and all was to be glory and victory ; and if any of its men were killed in the fight, and died on the way of illness or exhaustion, why that would be very bad for the wives and children waiting at home, but of course, it was the fortune of war that nil did not share in the glory, and the sorrows of the few r must not be counted against the gain of the many. That was how many, nay, most of the people round about the city of Met/ argued during those days ; and the lady of the chateau, an English woman and a very brave one, was to be’seen every day w r alking beside her boy’s little carriage, or driving in her own pretty Victoria with her baby and his English nurse beside her, with a bright smile on her face and brave words on her lips; yet in her own heart there was always an awful dread, like a lump of lead, a fear that all these thousands of men had been sent out to battle with scarce a shoe to their 'feet, or any provisions for them such as the} r ought to have had. If her heart was brave it was also a very tender one, and it ached, oh, so sadly, for every poor mother who mourned for a lost son, for every wife who learned that the husband she loved and the father of her children would never come marching home again, never any more. Day after day she went to try and comfort some poor soul in the district, whose anxious fears had come to the worst end, and all the time her own lieart /was trembling and sick with the horrible dread that her own brave and gallant husband would be the next to fall —her dear, dear love, Andre Forrestier, who had won her heart years ago and had brought her away from her English home to be the mistress of the beautiful old chateau on the banks of the Moselle. And after a while the times changed—alas ! how soon it is sad to tell. The victorious Prussian army — well trained, well led, well provided —soon, and but all too easily, beat the French forces back upon their own ground, and then set themselves to surround and destroy the fair city of Metz if thev could.

It was then that Madame Forrcstier’s troubles began in real good earnest, when all the country was thrown into confusion and panic by the hosts of fugitive French soldiers and the incoming hordes of great Germans, -who strode about in their big boots with the air of conquerors, who spread far and wide like a cloud of locusts, eating up all the provisions that the poor peasant folk had gathered together for themselves. “ Annie,’’ said Madame Forrestier to her English nurse, “ if anything does happen, remember that it is on you that 1 shall rely.” “ You may trust me, Madame,” said Annie quickly; “it will be a clever Prussian —aye, or a clever Frenchman either—that will get me to speak what I’ve a mind to keep to myself.” “ That is not what I am the most afraid of,” said Madame Forrestier ; “ it is your coolness and your presence of mind that I shall need most. These jjoor people are so excitable, so ner-

vous, I shall not be able to depend on hem in any emergency.” “ Listen, Madame ; what is that ?” exclaimed Annie, putting up her finger and listening intently. “ Somebody at the window.” “ Rosie—Rosie !” cried a low voice without, at the same time tapping softly at the window-pane. Madame Forrestier uttered a glad cry “It is the master,” she cried — “ the master !” And she rushed to the window and tore it open, when a tall figure in uniform, covered by a long military cloak, tumbled in. “ Shut the window quickly !” he gasped. “ They are after me ; they’ll be here in ten minutes. I knew the short cut through the wilderness, and I gave them the slip !” In a moment Annie had shut the window again, and barred the heavy shutters, and drawn the velvet curtains over them. “ You are wounded, my Andre !” cried Madame Forrestier, with her arms around her husband. “ Yes—not dangerously —only a cut in my arm,” he answered. “ No, don’t open it—it may start the blood flowing, and that would betray me. Not,” bitterly, as he looked round, “ that I need take care. They are bound to get hold of me. I am caught like a rat in a trap ; hut I determined I would see you before they took me, if it was only for a minute.” Madame Forrestier looked at Annie. “ They shall not take you,” she said, firmly,” unless they burn the chateau down, and I fancy it is too comfortable and too well-provisioned for them to do that. lam all ready for you ! Annie and I have cleaned out the secret room, and there are provisions there for a month or more, a comfortable bed, clothes, books, lights, and all your toilet things You can be quite comfortable down there, and I shall come and see you when I can manage it.” Andre Forrestier burst out laughing. “My darling, my dear love,” he said; “ and how do you think you are going to keep the Prussians out of the secret room P Nay, nay, child, a secret room that has no better concealed entrance than a trap door in the floor of your own apartment is no more likely to be secret from these Prussians than any other room in the house.”

“ But, Andre, they do not know that you have reached the chateau at all,” Madame Forrestier urged. “We, Annie and I, will devise some means of covering over the dooor.” “ A rug and an arm-chair,” said Forrestier, teasingly. “My poor Rosie ; my poor, poor girl!” “Listen,” said Annie, who had been standing at the door. “ I hear horses coming- up the avenue. Get down the trap- door, sir—at least it is a chance that they may not very closely search the mistress’s own bedroom.” “ All is fair in love and war, Annie,” said Captain Forrestier, significantly. “But I will do as you wish, my darling, my brave love. God bless you and be with you.” She kissed him tenderly, and hurried him down the steps into the secret room, closing the trap-door upon him.

“Annie, what can we cover it with P” she asked, anxiously lookingdown at it. “ Really, it hardly shows in the markings of the parquetry,” —for the floor was made, as the floors in the better houses in France generally are, of short pieces of wood fitted together so as to form a pattern. “Rot to an ordinary eye, Madame,” said Annie ; “ but these men are after the master-, you know, and will be extra keen in poking their noses everywhere. If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll stand hereabouts, Madame, and if I look very sweet at the soldiers, you mustn’t take any notice.” Madame Forrestier sighed anxiously. “ Oh, Annie, I am so nervous —so full of dread,” she said, trembling. “ What is that ? Oh, they are coming !”

It was, indeed, the sound of foot- : steps on the polished corridor, and then there came a gentle tap at the door, and the ■word “ Madame, madame !” twice repeated. “It is Jacques,” said Annie, who was busy polishing the floor with her soft slipper, so as to remove the trace of muddy footsteps which the master might have left behind him. “ See what he wants, Madame.” Thus encouraged, Madame opened the door, and old Jacques, the old servant who had been at the chateau in the time of Andie Forrestier’s father, came in with a scared white face.

“ Such misfortune, Madame,” he said, in quavering accents. “ Here are six great hulking Prussian pigs with a requisition for board and lodgingl in the chateau, and some sort of a notion that the master is skulking about the premises hiding. I swore hy all that’s holy he’d never been back since the war broke out, but the great brute either didn’t or wouldn’t understand me. He speaks bad French,” he added, in unutterable disgust. “ I will come down, Jacques,” said Madame Forrestier, with a last look at Annie, who was now busy making up the tire. “ Where are these — these gentlemen, Jacques ?” she asked as she reached the head of the stairs. “In the hall at present, Madame,” Jacques answered. 80, with her brain on fire, and a heart like ice, she went down into the hall, where she found six great German soldiers, warming themselves by the wood fire, each one big enough and fierce enough to frighten any little woman out of her senses. “ Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, in English. The biggest of the six, and evidently the officer in charge of the party, turned from the fire, and came forward, saluting her politely. “ Madame is an English lady,” he said in some surprise. “ I understood that this was the Chateau Forriester, and that Captain Forrestier— —” “ Captain Forrestier is my husband, sir, she said simply. “ Can you give me any news of him P” “ Hone, Madame, except that twenty minutes ago he was flying in this direction, but we missed him in a small Avood off the road,” the Prussian answered. “He is belie\ r ed to be in this house, Madame, and Ave must look for him.” “ Certainty, you shall do that,” said Madame Forrestier, Avith great calmness, “ Avill you come now P But did not my seiwant tell you that my husband is not here, and has not been here since the Avar began !” “ That he did, Madame,” said the Prussian with a smile, “ but I took the liberty of disbelieAdng him.” “ Then I cannot expect you to believe me or anything but the evidence of your oavu eyes,” said she, with dignity. “ Will you come Avith me noAV and search the house ? Is it necessary that you should all come F I ask because I have a little child asleep in my room, and I do not wish him to be frightened by so many strangers.” “ I will take one of my men with me. We shall not wake the child, Madame,” said the Prussian, more kindly. “I am sorroAv not to be able to take your word Avithout searching the chateau, Madame, but it is not left to us to use our own discretion, and my orders are implicit.” “ Come, then,” she said, leading

the way. She took them first to her own room, feeling that it was best to get that danger over the first; but at the door she turned imploringly to the two great giants who were treading softly and holding their swords away from the floor. “You won’t hurt my boy P” she said imploringly; “you are sure you won’t P” The big Prussian officer could not help smiling. “ We are not barbarians, Madame,” he said, in his pleasant broken English. “As for me I have a babe of my own at home, and half a dozen

youngsters waiting to see me again. “ Come, then,” she said, opening the door. She almost screamed out aloud at the sight which met her eyes, for there, over the trap-door, Annie had spread a bright Moorish rug ; and on the rug, sprawling among a heap of silken cushions, lay little Rene, the baby, the heir, who had just awakened from a late afternoon sleep. He looked so big and fair and bonny in his dainty white embroidered, lace-trimmed frock, with wide blue sash and bows to tie up nis sleeves, with one foot bare and the other in a soft knitted shoe, that the Prussian walked right up to him and begun to talk to him with every coaxing phrase he could think of. And in answer baby Rene held up his silver coral and bells, and tided to grab at his tambourine and his favourite toy of all — few empty cotton reels strung together —as if he were anxious to show them to this fascinating neivcomer with the sword and the bright buttons and the long yellow moustache, not so much unlike Forrestier s own. “DDadad —dad —dad,” he cried in delight. “ Ba-ba —da-da.” “ I have just such a child at home,” said the big Prussian, with a suspicious quaver in his voice. “You will excuse me, Madame, I will just look round the room for form’s sake.” “ To be sure,” said Madame Forrestier with a smile —she could afford to smile now, for the baby had warded off the great danger she had so much dreaded. It was a mere form. He looked into the old oak presses, poked his sword under the bed, glanced through the dressing-room, and openirg one window, peered out into the darkness, little guessing that less than half-an-bour ago Captain Forrestier, wounded as he was, had, with the strength born of desperation, swung himself up to the window by means of the ivy which covered the walls from roof to ground, and that he was at that moment within a few feet of him, his retreat safely cut off by the silken cushions on which the baby lay sprawling, playing with his toys and bis faithful dog. “I am satisfied, Madame,” the Prussian said. “ I must search the rest of the house, and I am afraid you must put up with our company for some little time longer. But we are not, as I said, barbarians, and we do not wish to annoy you; and from this moment your own apartment is

sacred.” “ I think, Annie,” said Madame, quietly, “ that you had better show these gentlemen to the rest of the house. I will stay with the child ” “Yes, Madame,” said Annie. “ Come along, sirs.” “ Oh, Rene! Rene! yon don’t know,” cried Madame Forrestier, “ but you have saved him !” Madame Forrestier had, as the big Prussian officer had warned her, to put up with the company of six great hulking Germans for some weeks after that eventful night. She was a very <vise little woman was Madame Forrestier, for she absolutely forbade her servants (who were old and welltrained in ways of obedience) to make the slightest fuss about the Prussians. She fed them well, she lodged them well, and she became the greatest of friends with the officer who was in command of the little party. Only the old man-servant, Jacques, dared to say to the mistress something of what was in his mind. “ How the mistress can degrade herself,” he murmured to her one ■day, “by sitting dowm at the same table and eating with this Prussian pig, no Frenchman can understand.” “ Jacques,” said the little Englishwoman, looking him very straight in the eyes, “ do you doubt your mistress’s jove for your master ?” “ No, no, Madame, not at all, not .so —but Madame may believe me, if the master should find his way home this Prussian pig would have no mercy because Madame has entertained him royally.” “ When I ask this gentleman to do anything out of the ordinary rules of,

war for me, Jacques,” said Madame Forrestier, with much decision, “ I know that he will do it. For the present, it is not for you to trouble about the master, it is for you to obey my order's, and I insist —and I think, Jacques, it is the first time I have used that word to you —I insist that you treat this German gentleman and the five men who are under his command as you would treat your own master. Some clay, when all this trouble has gone by, I Avill explain why I wish you to do this ; and then, Jacques, you will not only understand me, but you wall feel ready to put your neck under my feet and let me trample on you.” The old servant bowed, murmuring something about his chiefest desire being to serve the house of Forrestier, and he took himself away to his own pantry, where he busied himself in polishing the bits of plate which still remained to the family. “ She’s an Englishwoman,” he murmured to himself, or to the walls, “she’s an Englishwoman, and the English are an astute race. What has she in her head ? Has she had a communication from the master ? ■ has she even seen him ?—what is it, then ? She’s not against us, although she’s English ; she’s a meaning for all that she does ; she’s not coquetting with this Prussian pig—as some of the fools among the women do with his hulking followers. hTo, she’s an Englishwoman, and the English are an astute race.” But in spite of all his reflections, Jacques learned nothing. He tried to pump Annie, the English nurse, as to what she knew, but Annie scouted the idea of knowing anything. “ Lor’, Mr Jacques,” she said, innocently, “ what have you got in your head? Surely it’s better for the mistress to keep on civil terms with this great brute —especially if she saves the chateau by doing it. As to the master —why she worships the very ground he walks on. Surely you don’t doubt it now —why. you oug’ht to be ashamed of yourself.” Annie’s French was not of the best, but she managed to make the old man servant understand her, notwithstanding, and meantime went on her own way, flirting pretty hard with any of the big Prussians who came across her path. And so the weeks went over, and in the occasional absence of her visitors, Madame Forrestier and Annie contrived to replenish the store of provisions in the secret chamber below Madame’s bedroom; and, although Forrestier felt like a rat taapped in a cage, and chafed and fumed and fretted at the notion of being absent from his regiment, still, after all the hardships through which he had gone, and the weakness consequent on the loss of blood from his wounded arm, it w T as well for him that he had this chance of peace and quietness. So the days crept over till the army of occupation pressed on towards Paris, having laid bare the country like a SAvarnx of locusts. Then when the danger Avas past and it Avas fairly safe for the master of the Chateau to come out from his hiding-place, Madame Forrestier sent for old Jacques to come to her bedroom.

“ Jacques,” she said, in a queer, shaky little voice midway between tears and laughter, “You wondered that I was so civil to our Prussian guests. lam going now to tell you the reason —surely you had forgotten the secret chamber beneath my bedroom ?” “ Madame,” said Jacques, in a quivering voice, “ is it possible ” “ Yes, Jacques,” she said, “it is quite possible ; more than possible—it is true —your master has been in this house since ten minutes before those Prussians arrived here. I.did not keep it from you because I did not trust you, Jacques, but because I knew it would be easier for you to keep the secret if you did not know it.” “ But they searched the room,” he cried. “So they did,” she answered, with a laugh, “ but we put Master Rene

on a heap of cushions just over the trap-door, and they never thought to search the middle of the room. It was Baby who saved his father.” “ Ah,” murmured Jacques, as she lifted the trap-door and motioned him to go down and see his master, “ but the English are an astute race !”