CHAPTER II.
NO. 14 RUE ST. SUPLICE.
Meanwhile, Barbara and her aunt pursued their journey, and in due timearrived at Newhaven, where the first thing they were told was that thetide was unusually low at Dieppe, which would prevent them enteringthat harbour, and therefore they were not going to leave Newhaven foranother hour and a half. Aunt Anne gazed in indignation upon theirinformant, and declared it was scandalous that a boat, timed to leaveat a certain hour, should be so irregular and unpunctual; whereupon thecaptain, shrugging his shoulders, said that the lady should complain tothe moon about the tides rather than to him.
They managed to fill in the time very well with lunch, however, andafter a little grumbling, Aunt Anne resigned herself to Fate, thoughshe was glad enough when they finally steamed out of the harbour. MissBritton was not a very good sailor, and in preparation for "thevoyage," as she called the crossing, had accumulated great stores ofknowledge as to how to treat seasickness. She established herself onthe upper deck, let down a deck-chair as low as it would go, andreplacing her hat by a weird little Tam o' Shanter, covered her eyeswith a handkerchief.
"To avoid seasickness, Barbara," she said, "you must lie as flat aspossible, keep the eyes closed, and breathe in correspondence with theship's motion--though," she added, "I really cannot tell at presentwhich is its motion; perhaps there will be more when we get fartherout."
Barbara chuckled, but deferred making similar preparations until themotion _was_ more defined, for she was much too interested in what wasgoing on around her to close her eyes to it all.
Aunt Anne asked her at intervals if it was getting rougher, but thoughher niece assured her there were no signs of such a thing, she did notventure to sit up until they were quite near Dieppe.
"Oh, aunt!" Barbara exclaimed joyfully, "just look at all the officialsin their high-peaked hats. Don't they look nice, so Frenchy andforeign!"
"You would hardly expect them to look _English_," Aunt Anne returneddrily, and began to gather together her belongings preparatory toleaving the boat.
"It is some time since I have been in France, Barbara," she exclaimed,"having been quite contented with our own beautiful land; but Iremember it was best to be very quick in going to the train so as toget good seats. Follow me closely, child."
Barbara obediently did as she was told, and having got safely throughthe troubles of the _douane_, they chose their carriage and proceededto arrange their possessions.
"My umbrella!" Aunt Anne cried suddenly, looking anxiously on the racksand under the seat. "Barbara, I must have left it on the boat; why didyou not remind me? You must just run back for it now--but don't letthe train go without you. Run, child, run!"
Barbara obediently hurried away, and after a halting and somewhatlengthy explanation on the quay, was allowed to go on board again, andspied the missing umbrella on the deck. When she returned, the trainhad been moved higher up, and she could not distinguish the carriageanywhere. The guard was already beginning to wave the signal, andBarbara felt she was a lost passenger, when a dark, stout little mandashed up to her and seized her by the arm.
"Par ici, par ici," he cried, "votre maman vous attend, mademoiselle,"and they flew down the platform with the guard shouting warnings behindthem. They were barely in time, and Barbara sank panting into her seat.
"Fancy!" Aunt Anne cried indignantly--"fancy getting lost like that!It just shows that you are not fit to look after children when youcannot manage an umbrella!"
Barbara was too breathless to reply and too much amused, perhaps,really to mind. The country was pretty enough, but it soon began togrow dusk, and they wondered when they would arrive in Paris. Thetrain was due at 7.30, but there did not seem to be the least chance ofgetting in at that hour, for, late as they already were, they continuedto lose time on the way. The little Frenchman was their onlycompanion, and he did not seem to know much English.
However, between his shreds of that language and Barbara's scantyFrench she managed to find out that they would not arrive in Parisuntil midnight. Aunt Anne expressed her annoyance in no measuredterms, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and smiled, until shecollapsed into a corner speechless with disgust. He left them atRouen, and Barbara, watching her aunt sleeping in a corner, wonderedwhat they would do when they finally did arrive at the station. But,as soon as the lights of the _Gare de Lazare_ showed through thedarkness, Miss Britton began to bestir herself, and, when the trainstopped, marched boldly out of the carriage as if she had been in Parisdozens of times.
In a little while they were seated in a _fiacre_, going along throughbrightly-lighted streets, feeling very satisfied that they wereactually nearing their destination. But their content did not lastlong, for soon leaving the lighted thoroughfares, they turned into adark road with high walls on either side, and just a lamp now and then.It really seemed rather lonely, and they both began to feeluncomfortable and to wonder if they were being taken to the wrongplace. Stories of mysterious disappearances began to flit throughBarbara's brain, and she started when Aunt Anne said in a very emphatictone, "He looked a very nice cabman, quite respectable and honest."
"Yes," Barbara said meekly, though she had hardly noticed him.
"I knew it was some distance from the station, of course."
"Yes," Barbara replied once more, and added, "of course," as MissBritton began to look rather fierce.
"It was a little stupid of you not to think of proposing to stay in thestation hotel while I was collecting the wraps," she went on rathersharply, and Barbara was trying to think of something soothing to say,when the cab drew up suddenly and they were both precipitated on to thehat-boxes on the other seat.
Barbara put her hat straight and looked out of the window. Itcertainly seemed to be a funny place to which they had come. Thehouses were high and narrow, and the one they had stopped at had adirty archway without a single light; but, as the driver showed nointention of getting down and ringing, Barbara stepped out and gropedabout for a bell or a knocker of some kind. Then the cabman, pointingwith his whip up the archway, said, "Numero quatorze, par la." Thegirl did not much relish going into the darkness by herself, for shewas sure there must be some mistake. But she was afraid that, if MissBritton got out too, the man might drive away and leave them, so shebegged her aunt to remain in the cab while she went into the archway tomake inquiries. After some groping she found a bell-rope, and rangthree times without receiving any answer. She was just about to ringagain, when she heard stealthy steps approaching the door, and the nextmoment it was opened, disclosing to her frightened gaze a dirty-lookingman, wearing a red nightcap, and carrying a candle in his hand.
Barbara recoiled a step, for though she had been sure there was somemistake she had not expected anything as bad as this. However, shemanaged to gasp out, "Madame Belvoir's?" and was intensely relieved tosee the fellow shake his head. But he leered at her so horribly thatshe waited to make no more inquiries, but turned and fled back to the_fiacre_.
"This is not the right place," she pouted, "and I'm thankful itisn't--there's _such_ a horrid man."
"A man! But she was a widow," Aunt Anne said vaguely; and her niececould not help laughing, for if that _were_ the case there might havebeen brothers or sons.
But the cabman was getting very impatient, and it was not an easymatter to argue with him, for when they insisted that this could not be14 Rue St. Sulpice, he merely shook his head and persisted that it was.Then suddenly a light seemed to break upon him, and he asked, "14 RueSt. Sulpice, Courcelles?"
Barbara shook her head violently, and said, "Non, non, Neuilly."Whereupon with much grumbling and torrents of words that, perhaps, itwas as well she did not understand, he whipped up his horse, and shehad hardly time to scramble into the cab before they swung off.
They were very glad to leave the neighbourhood, for they saw the rednightcap peeping out at the end of the archway, and it seemed as ifthere were more friends of the same kind in the rear.
"It is _most_ absurd for the man to think _we_ should have been stayinghere. I think he must be mad."
"Yes," returned Barbara, not knowing what else to say, and theycontinued to rumble over more cobble stones and down dark roads, tillthey finally stopped in a dimly-lighted street, which, however, wasbroad and clean, with fairly large houses on either side.
Barbara got out with some misgivings, wondering what their fate wouldbe this time. She had to ring several times as before; but as therewas no dark archway, and the cab was close by, she had not the samefear. When the door opened, she could distinguish nothing at first,but presently espied a little woman, in a _white_ nightcap, holding acandle.
"Dear me!" she thought, "candles and nightcaps seem to be the fashionhere;" but aloud, merely asked politely for Madame Belvoir, hoping thatshe was not speaking to the lady in question. Before the _portiere_(for it was she) could answer, a bright light shone out at the far endof the passage, and a girl came hurrying down, saying, "Madame Belvoir?Mais oui, entrez, entrez. C'est Mademoiselle Britton, n'est-ce pas?"
Mademoiselle Britton was not a little relieved, and so, I am sure, washer poor aunt, who came hurrying out of the cab, and was so glad to getrid of it that she paid the ten francs the man demanded without amurmur.
The French girl explained in broken English that her mother greatlyregretted being absent, having been called away suddenly to an unclewho was ill, but that she and her sister would do their utmost to makeMiss Britton comfortable.
By that time they had reached the end of the passage and were led intoa comfortable room, where another girl was waiting. Tea was ready forthem too, and Barbara thought she had never appreciated it more. Shetried to explain the reason of their late arrival, and told some oftheir adventures; but, although both the French girls listened politelyand smiled and nodded, Barbara thought that neither of them understoodmuch of what she said. However, she did not mind that, and presentlythey led the way upstairs to a room that was a haven of delight to thewanderers. The windows opened on to a garden whence the scent of lilacfloated, and the whole room--down to the hearth-brush, which charmedBarbara--was decorated in blue.
With the memory of that other Rue St. Sulpice still fresh in theirminds, their present quarters indeed seemed delightful; and Barbaradeclared she could have fallen upon the necks of both girls and kissedthem.
"A quite unnecessary and most impertinent proceeding," Aunt Annereplied curtly. "They will much prefer pounds, shillings, and pence toembraces," and Barbara thought that after all she was probably right.