A Tatter of Scarlet: Adventurous Episodes of the Commune in the Midi 1871Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
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A Tatter of Scarlet: Adventurous Episodes of the Commune in the Midi 1871
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Adventure stories; Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction; Scots -- France -- Fiction
I could see that I was making some way. Linn and her husband looked at
each other, and if they did not smile, at least there was a more hopeful
look on their faces. Linn was touched by the thought of the
companionship of the Deventer girls, for in this matter Autun had been
gravely lacking.
Nor did the bribe of Arabic-speaking students to talk with appear to be
wholly lost upon Keller Bey, even though he spoke still somewhat
restively.
"I have little acquaintance with book Arabic beyond the Koran, but it is
a noble language in which to vent one's thoughts."
I reassured him that both the ex-Vicar Apostolic and my father found it
so. They would sit smoking and talking Arabic all a long evening over
their parchments.
"All this must I come and see for myself," said Keller Bey; "such a
plant as Alida is not to be pulled up by the roots till we know where we
shall find better ground and more fertile in which to reset her. But
tell me, is not this Aramon of yours an unsafe town? The mob had
possession of it for some days lately, attacking the works and the
manager's house--can we safely take Alida to such a place?"
Then in mighty haste I showed him the difference between the unceasing
activity of Aramon-of-the-Workshops and the scholastic calm of Aramon le
Vieux. I extended the width of the dividing river to a three-quarters of
a mile, a size to which it only reaches in times of flood when the tall
ladder of the painted scale by the bridge-end is wholly covered, and
still the flood creeps up inch by inch till the people of Vallabregues
and Saint Jacques are crying for succour from the roofs of their
drowned-out houses, and the pigs and poultry go out to sea feet up on a
six-knot current.
Keller and Linn sat and listened--Linn with a lost air of someone whose
scheme of life has suddenly become impossible. I think Linn had expected
the quiet days, the morning promenades with Alida, the cheerful suppers
of the house in the square in Autun to go on always. Alida would always
be as content with them as she had been when a little girl. Had she not
come back from school to the warm love and unbounded spoiling which
awaited her there?
As they sat and pondered, Alida entered, her roll of music in her hand.
"What," she cried, "you are all sitting as gloomy as crows in a
cemetery. Where is Hugh? I want you both to come out and walk by the
river. The early violets are out, and yesterday Madame the Sous-Prefet
found a daffodil."
"Alida," said I, "at Aramon all the flowers are out, and the broom runs
along the river banks like a mile-wide flame of fire. Everywhere is
yellow in spring, ranunculus, buttercups, celandine, and the yellow
wallflowers sprouting among all the old walls of Gobelet. When will you
come and see them?"
Alida went prettily to Linn and kissed her. Then she put her arms about
Keller without saying anything. The game was won. No more remained but
to make the arrangements.
"As soon as these two dear people will let me!" she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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