Nobody's Girl

  CHAPTER VII

  MARAUCOURT AT LAST

  Things came to pass as La Rouquerie had arranged. For eight days Perrineran through the streets of the villages and towns crying out: "Rabbitskins! Rags! Bones!"

  "You've got a voice that would make yer famous for this here business,"said La Rouquerie admiringly, as Perrine's clear treble was heard in thestreets. "If yer'd stay with me you'd be doin' me a service and yerwouldn't be unhappy. You'd make a livin'. Is it a go?"

  "Oh, thank you, but it's not possible," replied Perrine.

  Finding that the reasons she advanced were not sufficient to inducePerrine to stay with her, La Rouquerie put forth another:

  "And yer wouldn't have to leave Palikare."

  This was a great grief, but Perrine had made up her mind.

  "I must go to my relations; I really must," she said.

  "Did your relatives save yer life, like that there donkey?" insisted LaRouquerie.

  "But I promised my mother."

  "Go, then, but you see one fine day you'll be sorry yer didn't take whatI offered yer p'raps."

  "You are very kind and I shall always remember you."

  When they reached Creil, La Rouquerie hunted up her friend, the farmer,and asked him to give Perrine a lift in his cart as far as Amiens. Hewas quite willing, and for one whole day Perrine enjoyed the comfort oflying stretched out on the straw, behind two good trotting horses. AtEssentaux she slept in a barn.

  The next day was Sunday, and she was up bright and early and quicklymade her way to the railway station. Handing her five francs to theticket seller she asked for a ticket to Picquigny. This time she had thesatisfaction of seeing that her five francs was accepted. She receivedher ticket and seventy-five cents in change.

  It was 12 o'clock when the train pulled in at the station at Picquigny.It was a beautiful, sunny morning, the air was soft and warm, fardifferent from the scorching heat which had prostrated her in the woods,and she ... how unlike she was from that miserable little girl who hadfallen by the wayside. And she was clean, too. During the days she hadspent with La Rouquerie she had been able to mend her waist and herskirt, and had washed her linen and shined her shoes. Her pastexperience was a lesson: she must never give up hope at the darkestmoment; she must always remember that there was a silver cloud, if shewould only persevere.

  She had a long walk after she got out of the train at Picquigny. Butshe walked along lightly past the meadows bordered with poplars andlimes, past the river where the villagers in their Sunday clothes werefishing, past the windmills which, despite the fact that the day wascalm, were slowly moving round, blown by the breeze from the sea whichcould be felt even there.

  She walked through the pretty village of St. Pipoy, with its red roofsand quaint church, and over the railway tracks which unites the townswherein Vulfran Paindavoine has his factories, and which joins the mainline to Boulogne.

  As Perrine passed the pretty church the people were coming out frommass. Listening to them as they talked in groups she heard again thesing-song manner of talking that her father had often imitated so as toamuse her.

  On the country road she saw a young girl walking slowly ahead of hercarrying a very heavy basket on her arm.

  "Is this the way to Maraucourt?" Perrine asked.

  "Yes, this road ... quite straight."

  "Quite straight," said Perrine laughing, "it isn't so very straight afterall."

  "If you are going to Maraucourt, I'm going there too, and we could gotogether," suggested the girl.

  "I will if you'll let me help you carry your basket," said Perrine with asmile.

  "I won't say no to that, for it's sure heavy!"

  The girl put her basket on the ground and breathed a sigh of relief.

  "You don't belong to Maraucourt, do you?" asked the girl.

  "No, do you?"

  "Sure I do."

  "Do you work in the factories?"

  "Should say so, everybody does here."

  "How much do they pay?"

  "Ten sous."

  "And is it hard work?"

  "Not very; but you have to have a sharp eye and not waste time. Do you wantto get in there?"

  "Yes, if they'd have me."

  "Should say they would have you; they take anybody. If they didn't how doyou think they'd get the seven thousand hands they've got. Just be theretomorrow morning at 6 o'clock at the gate. We must hurry now or I'll belate. Come on."

  She took the handle of the basket on one side and Perrine took it on theother side and they set out on the road, keeping in step down the middle.

  Here was an opportunity for Perrine to learn what held interest for her. Itwas too good for her not to seize it. But she was afraid to question thisgirl openly. She must put the questions she wanted answered in a way thatwould not arouse her suspicions.

  "Were you born at Maraucourt?" she began.

  "Sure, I'm a native and my mother was too, my father came from Picquigny."

  "Have you lost them?"

  "Yes, I live with my grandmother who keeps a grocer store and restaurant.She's Madame Francoise."

  "Ah! Madame Francoise."

  "What! do you know her?"

  "No, I just said, 'Ah, Madame Francoise.'"

  "She's known everywhere for her 'eats' and 'cause she was nurse to MonsieurEdmond Paindavoine. Whenever the men want to ask the boss, Monsieur VulfranPaindavoine, for anything, they get my grandmother to ask for them."

  "Does she always get what they want?"

  "Sometimes yes, sometimes no; Monsieur Vulfran ain't always obliging."

  "If your grandmother was nurse to Monsieur Edmond why doesn't she askhim?"

  "M. Edmond? he's the boss' son, and he went away from here before I wasborn, no one's seen him since. He had a quarrel with his father, and hisfather sent him to India to buy jute. The boss has made his fortune outof jute. He's rich, as rich as...."

  She could not think how rich M. Vulfran was so she said abruptly: "Nowshall we change arms?"

  "If you like. What is your name?"

  "Rosalie. What's yours?"

  Perrine did not want to give her real name, so she chanced on one.

  "Aurelie," she said.

  They rested for a while, then went on again at their regular step.

  "You say that the son had a quarrel with his father," said Perrine,"then went away?"

  "Yes, and the old gentleman got madder still with him 'cause he marrieda Hindu girl, and a marriage like that doesn't count. His father wantedhim to marry a young lady who came of a very fine family, the best inPicardy. It was because he wanted his son to marry this other girl thathe built the beautiful mansion he's got. It cost millions and millionsof francs. But M. Edmond wouldn't part with the wife he's got over thereto take up with the young lady here, so the quarrel got worse and worse,and now they don't even know if the son is dead or alive. They haven'thad news of him for years, so they say. Monsieur Vulfran doesn't speakto anyone about it, neither do the two nephews."

  "Oh, he has nephews?"

  "Yes, Monsieur Theodore Paindavoine, his brother's son, and MonsieurCasimir Bretoneux, his sister's son, who help him in the business. If M.Edmond doesn't come back the fortune and all the factories will go tohis two nephews."

  "Oh, really!"

  "Yes, and that'll be a sad thing, sad for the whole town. Them nephewsain't no good for the business ... and so many people have to get theirliving from it. Sure, it'll be a sad day when they get it, and they willif poor M. Edmond doesn't come back. On Sundays, when I serve the meals,I hear all sorts of things."

  "About his nephews?"

  "Yes, about them two and others also. But it's none of our business;let's talk of something else."

  "Yes, why not?"

  As Perrine did not want to appear too inquisitive, she walked onsilently, but Rosalie's tongue could not be still for very long.

  "Did you come along with your parents to Maraucourt?" she asked.

  "I have no parents."


  "No father, no mother!"

  "No."

  "You're like me, but I've got a grandmother who's very good, and she'dbe still better if it wasn't for my uncles and aunts; she has to pleasethem. If it wasn't for them I should not have to work in the factories;I should stay at home and help in the store, but grandmother can't do asshe wants always. So you're all alone?"

  "Yes, all alone."

  "Was it your own idea to leave Paris and come to Maraucourt?"

  "I was told that I might find work at Maraucourt, so instead of goingfurther on to some relations, I stopped here. If you don't know yourrelations, and they don't know you, you're not sure if you're going to geta welcome."

  "That's true. If there are kind ones, there are some mighty unkind onesin this world."

  "Yes, that is so," Perrine said, nodding her pretty head.

  "Well, don't worry; you'll find work in the factories. Ten sous a day isnot much, but it's something, and you can get as much as twenty-two sous.I'm going to ask you a question; you can answer or not, as you like. Haveyou got any money?"

  "A little."

  "Well, if you'd like to lodge at my grandmother's, that'll cost youtwenty-eight sous a week, pay in advance."

  "I can pay twenty-eight sous."

  "Now, I don't promise you a fine room all to yourself at that price;there'll be six in the same room, but you'll have a bed, some sheets anda coverlet. Everybody ain't got that."

  "I'd like it and thank you very much."

  "My grandmother don't only take in lodgers who can only pay twenty-eightsous. We've got some very fine rooms in our house. Our boarders areemployed at the factories. There's Monsieur Fabry, the engineer of thebuilding; Monsieur Mombleux, the head clerk, and Mr. Bendit, who hascharge of the foreign correspondence. If you ever speak to him alwayscall him Mr. Benndite. He's an Englishman, and he gets mad if youpronounce his name 'Bendit.' He thinks that one wants to insult him,just as though one was calling him 'Thief'!"

  "I won't forget; besides, I know English."

  "You know English! You!"

  "My mother was English."

  "So, so! Well, that'll be fine for Mr. Bendit, but he'd be more pleased ifyou knew every language. His great stunt on Sunday is to read prayers thatare printed in twenty-five languages. When he's gone through them once, hegoes over them again and again. Every Sunday he does the same thing. Allthe same, he's a very fine man."