Little Peter: A Christmas Morality for Children of any Age Page 7

  CHAPTER VII.

  WHICH DESCRIBES A PLEASANT DINNER-PARTY, AND AN UNPLEASANT WALK.

  For when little Peter and his mother and brothers came out of thechurch at Nullepart, the sun had been hidden some time behind thickclouds. Fierce gusts of wind rushed down the street, blowing off hats,and blowing about petticoats, and making window-shutters rattle, anddoors slam.

  'Make haste, children, make haste,' cried Susan Lepage. 'We must getour dinner at the Red Horse and start homewards as quickly as we can.'

  'Oh! I have been hearing something so terrible,' said Eliza, to hermistress, as she came down the church steps. 'Not that I am surprisedat it--no, no, no. I have always suspected it. I am sure his appearancethis morning was enough to confirm one's worst suspicions.'

  Eliza pursed up her lips and shook her head with an air of extremewisdom.

  'They do say that Paqualin is a wizard,' she went on. 'Take care,Peter; if you look one way and walk another, you will unquestionablytumble down. And you needn't stare at me so. I wasn't talking toyou.--Joseph Berri, the watchmaker's brother, has just been telling meall about it. There is no doubt he overlooked one of Miller Georgeon'sdraught oxen three years ago, so that it would not eat, and grew dailythinner and thinner, and had, at last, to be killed.--Go on, Peter;your ears will grow as long as a donkey's if you are always listeninglike that.--And they do say he can call up evil spirits, and storms,and thunder and lightning, and whirlwinds, when he wants them for hisown vicious purposes.'

  'Nonsense, Eliza, nonsense,' said Susan Lepage. 'You are far toowilling to listen to idle, ill-natured tales.'

  Eliza sighed profoundly and turned up her eyes.

  'Ah!' she murmured, 'some day, ma'am, you will see who was in theright, and give credit where it is due. For my part, if it does snowto-day, I shall know what to think.'

  'Make haste, children,' said Susan Lepage again. 'The time draws on,and we have no time to waste.'

  But it was not so easy to make haste. The large dining-room of the RedHorse, with its tall, white-curtained windows, was crowded. From up thevalley and down the valley in their long, narrow, country carts--forall the world like tea-trays set on four wheels--with cracking whipsand jangling bells, or on foot, from lonely hamlets in the forest, orsolitary herdsmen's huts on the steep grass slopes beneath the greylimestone cliffs and crags, all the inhabitants of the district hadgathered to attend the church, and see the show, and spend a merrySunday. And among all these good people were many friends of SusanLepage, who detained her with greetings and questions. Then, too, theplaces at the tables were already taken, and it was some time beforethe boys and their mother could get seats. Even so little Peter had tosqueeze himself into a very small space between Madame Georgeon,--thestout, comely wife of Monsieur Georgeon, the miller at Oudonc--andhis mother. But little Peter thought it all delightful, though he wasrather pinched as to elbow-room. He liked the rattle of the knives andforks, and the many voices, and the talk and laughter; and watched withgreat curiosity the active serving-maids, balancing in their hands--andindeed all up their arms, too, so it seemed--an incredible number ofplates and dishes. Even the floor sprinkled with sawdust, and the notaltogether spotless table-cloth, were interesting. For it was all new,you see, to little Peter; and even things not very nice in themselvesare charming when they are new.

  Then, too, Peter was very hungry; and though Madame Georgeon's fullskirts overflowed his small legs, and her handsome shawl, throwngracefully back from her shoulders--the room was warm, what with thegreat, china stove in the corner and all the company--and though hershawl, I say, enveloped him entirely now and then in a cloud of manycoloured cashmere, the miller's wife was very kind, and coaxed andpetted him, and piled up his plate with all manner of dainty things.

  'Eh, _par exemple_,' she said, smiling and nodding at him as she sippedher glass of red wine--'it is not every day we go into society, is it,to meet old friends and make new ones? You, Susan Lepage, from a childwere of a serious turn of mind. That is an excellent thing, too, nodoubt. It secures the future. But the present should not be despisedeither. The members of my family--the saints be praised--have everpossessed a little grain of gaiety in their composition. For my part Ithink it is only economical to make the most of this world while youare permitted to be in it. And I regard it as an actual impiety toneglect any opportunity of innocent entertainment. Eat, my child, eatthen--a spoonful or so more of this admirable pastry. See, on my platehere. I was provident when the dish came round, and secured a doubleportion.'

  Then, turning, she smiled at Susan Lepage again:--

  'Do not alarm yourself. It will not injure him. He will walk it off.Exercise is a fine thing to prevent food lying heavy on the stomach.'

  'Perhaps moderation is a finer one still,' answered the other gently.'But are you not ready, my sons? We must not linger, though you in yourkindness would tempt us to do so, good Madame Georgeon. We do not drivehome by the high road as you do, but go on foot through the forest, andthe days are short.--Antony, we should surely be moving.'

  But Antony was in no haste to be going, for he, too, was making themost of this opportunity of innocent enjoyment. He sat beside MarieGeorgeon, the miller's pretty daughter, who certainly took afterher mother's family in respect of gaiety. And, clean glasses beingsomewhat scarce at the Red Horse from the unusual number of guests, ithappened that she and Antony shared one; and her brown eyes were asfull of mischief as a May morning is full of sunshine as she glancedup at him over the rim of it, and laughed and talked, and fingeredthe gold and garnet necklace that fitted so neatly about her throat.And what with her pretty looks and merry words, the young fellow'shead was completely turned--and if you do not quite understand whatthat means, you need only wait a little, for you are bound to find outclearly enough some day. And, as the inevitable consequence of hishead being turned, he hardly heard his mother when she spoke to him,and made no haste in the world to finish his dinner, and loitered anddawdled about upon one excuse and another as long as possible; and, Iam sorry to say, spoke quite snappishly to his brother Paul, when thelatter pointed out to him that the clock had struck three already, andthat it was high time to be going. You see, it is just as well not tounderstand--by experience, anyhow--what it is to have your head turned,since it leads to these deplorable errors both of manners and conduct.

  So it fell out that when at last our friends left the jovial companyat the Red Horse, and came out from the steaming dining-room into thestreet, the snow-fairies had already been some half-hour at work, andthe roadway and house-roofs were all lightly powdered with snow. Tolittle Peter, warm with his dinner, this seemed the crowning pieceof fun of a glorious day. He could hardly get along for turning tolook at the marks his nailed boots made in the snow. But Susan Lepagethought very differently. She glanced up at the dull, clouded sky, andremembered the sad words of John Paqualin, the charcoal-burner, thateveryone had treated so lightly some few hours ago.

  'Will it last, do you think?' she asked of Antony.

  Antony, however, was still thinking of pretty Marie Georgeon, with whomhe had shared the kernel of a double almond at parting, both wishingas they eat it. He was wishing his wish still, and it was such anagreeable one that he felt quite superior to all inconvenient incidentsin the way of snowstorms and such like.--He cocked his cap more on oneside than ever, and assumed quite a patronising air, even towards hismother, which, to say the least, was very silly of him.

  'It may last or it may not,' he answered. 'But really, it doesn't verymuch matter.'

  'I wish that your father was with us,' added Susan.

  'Why?' cried Antony. 'He couldn't stop it snowing any more than I can.And pray remember, mother, that this isn't by any means the first timeI have walked home from Nullepart in bad weather. I believe I couldfind my way back blindfold or at midnight for that matter.'

  'I am not at all troubled about you, my son,' replied his motherquietly, 'but about our poor little Peter here, with his little shortlegs.'

  'Oh
, Peter will do well enough,' said the lad impatiently.

  Some find it difficult to make room in their hearts for more than oneperson at a time, you know; and Antony's heart was still pretty welloccupied by Marie Georgeon. He walked along briskly humming the tune of_Partant pour la Syrie_, which is a song about a young soldier who waspious as well as brave; and a lucky fellow into the bargain, for whenhe came back from the war he married his master the count's daughter,and lived happily ever after.

  'Never mind, mother,' said Paul; 'if the snow is deep, or Peter istired, I can carry him pick-a-back. He's not very heavy, you know.'

  'I shan't be tired. I like the snow,' cried little Peter, and heclapped his hands and pranced about, till Eliza--who was still rathercross because her cousin had neglected to invite her to dinner--caughthold of him and made him walk soberly.

  'If you laugh so now there will be tears before night,' she said.'Laugh at breakfast, cry at dinner, laugh at dinner, cry atsupper-time. Ah, dear me! this cold wind; I wish I had thought to putsome wool in my ears--I shall be martyred with the toothache.'

  So they passed down the main street. It was almost deserted now, forthe storm had driven people to take shelter in the wine shops, or,which was far wiser, in their own houses. Even the pigs had gone totheir styes, and the fowls to their roosts; and the goats, with theirlittle tinkling bells, were safe housed, too, in their sheds, munchingthe dry, brown hay that in the summer-time had waved as green grassfull of a rainbow of flowers. They passed by the smaller houses andout-buildings, and the great saw-mills where the pine logs from themountains are cut up, that stand along the bank of the swift river; andcrossed the bridge with the dark water rushing underneath; and beganclimbing the road that zig-zags up the long hill between the great,bare walnut-trees and stubble fields, and wild rocky pastures, to theedge of the pine forest--four tall straight figures, and one shortroundabout one, showing black against the ever-deepening snow.

  For, alas! the snow was falling thicker and thicker--here in theopen it was already up to the second lace-hole of little Peter'sboots--scurrying and racing in wild confusion before the icy breath ofthe North Wind; twisting, and twirling, and dancing; clinging to grassblade, and bush, and branch, and tree stem; hiding the road so that youcould no longer see the margin of it; covering the wheel tracks andmarks of the horse hoofs; filling up hollows under the grey rocks andboulders, and blurring the jagged outline of the pine-trees where theyrise against the sky. Hundreds of thousands of white, hurrying flakes,soft, silent multitudes, filling the air as far as eye could see. Therewas no fun now in turning round to look at the marks of his nailedboots, for Peter found the snow hid them again almost as soon as theywere made; and it was hard work, too, struggling up the steep hill andbattling with the wind.

  Still the little fellow trudged along without making any complaint.For, you see, he had often heard his father praise the virtues of theAncient Romans, their courage and endurance; and so Peter had got thenotion into his head that it is rather a grand thing not to mind whatis uncomfortable and disagreeable, and that it is rather a shamefuland unworthy thing to grumble and make a fuss, and cry when yourchilblains itch, or you happen to bump your head against the table, orwhen your legs ache, as his legs began to ache now, with the length andsteepness of the hill. More than once his mother stopped and calledhim to her, and told him he was a good, brave, little man, and pulledthe collar of his overcoat up about his red, little ears. And Peter,though he would not have said so for three dozen baking apples, or halfa washing-basket full of sugar pigs, did find it very comfortable tostand still in the shelter of her petticoats for a minute or two andget his breath. The town below was hidden in the driving snow, and thedark wall of the pine-trees loomed nearer and nearer.

  At last the forest path was reached, and here it was better walking.The snow was lighter, and there was shelter from the force of the wind.But they had taken so much time in climbing the hill that the dusk wascoming on, and there was still a long way to go.

  Antony no longer whistled. He walked on steadily ahead of the others,turning round now and then with a fine air of superiority and command.Antony, indeed, was as yet not at all displeased with the adventure.He believed that this was an occasion on which he showed to greatadvantage. His mother followed him in silence. Little Peter came next.He had taken his brother Paul's hand now, and trotted along as fast ashis sturdy little legs would carry him, for to tell the honest truth hewas getting a trifle frightened. The birds had all hidden themselvesaway in the thick brushwood, and no longer welcomed him with theirmerry round eyes. The well-known path looked mysterious, almost awful,in the half-light, with the tall ranks of the pine-trees on eitherside of it swaying in the blast. Sometimes the snow would slip in greatmasses from the high branches and fall close to little Peter's feet, asif the black dwarf was throwing snowballs at him. Poor Peter began tofeel very shivery and creepy, and did not the least care to look roundlest _something_, he did not exactly know what--and that made it allthe worse, perhaps--should be coming tripping, tripping, tripping overthe white ground behind him.

  But the only person who really came behind little Peter was Eliza;and though I do not want to be rude to Eliza, who was a very worthyyoung woman in her way, I cannot pretend to say that she was doinganything so graceful as tripping over the snow. Not a bit of it. Elizawas extremely disgruntled by the events of the day, and was as full ofcomplaints and lamentations as a hedgehog's back is full of spines.The wet snow had made her fine, white cap limp and drabbled; so thatinstead of standing up like the vizor of an ancient helmet, the big,lace frill of it tumbled in the most melancholy manner about her face.She had turned the skirt of her dress up over her head; and what withholding it, and her books tied up in her handkerchief, and what withthe tightness of her boots, which were a pair of brand new ones andhalf a size too small for her into the bargain, Eliza came very muchnearer floundering than tripping over the snow.

  The forest opens out in places into wide spaces of waste moorland.Across these by daylight or in fine weather it is easy enough to findthe right road; but on such an evening as I am telling you about it isby no means easy. On the edge of the moorland, Susan Lepage called toAntony to stop.

  'Go slowly,' she said, 'and pray be careful. If we once mistake thepath we may find ourselves in a sad plight. I wish your father was withus! Go on in front,' she added, turning to Paul, 'and I will followyou.'

  Now his mother's words rather nettled Antony.

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  'You haven't any real confidence in me,' he said sulkily; 'or youwouldn't be repeating all the while that you wish my father was here.'

  You see, Antony had been a good deal flattered and excited by hispretty companion at the Red Horse at Nullepart. And it often happens,unfortunately, that pleasure when it is past makes us quarrelsome.He kicked the snow about with his foot, and his handsome, young facelooked quite rebellious and naughty.

  'No, no, my son,' Susan Lepage answered gently. 'I have everyconfidence in your good intentions. But the way must needs be difficultto find. I merely caution you to be careful.'

  'Of course I shall be careful,' said the lad angrily, as he steppedfrom the shelter of the pine trees into the dim, white waste beyond.

  For a time all went well; but, all of a sudden, the ground beganto grow rough and uneven under foot. Peter stumbled and fell, andscrambled up again half smothered in snow, his poor, little mouth andeyes full of it, and his hands scratched with the harsh heath roots andstones beneath.

  'Antony, Antony, we are wandering!' cried his mother, as she wipedthe snow out of Peter's eyes and off his clothes, and kissed him. Thelittle boy clung to her, for he felt very desolate and cheerless. Hedid not think it in the least amusing now to be out in the storm. Helonged for the warm, cosy kitchen and for the society of Cincinnatus;but he choked down his tears as his mother kissed him, and tried to bevery brave and not to mind his tumble.

  Antony turned back, he was a few steps ahead.

  'We can only h
ave missed the path by a yard or two,' he said hurriedly.'You just stand still and I'll find it.'

  And he did find it. But, alas! he could not keep to it, for the lightfaded and darkness came on quicker and quicker, and still the snowfell in hundreds of thousands of soft white flakes. Eliza groaned andlamented, and our poor, little Peter's snow-clogged boots began tochill his feet through, and his hands grew as cold as frogs' paws, andhe got more and more hungry and tired. But he did not grumble about it,for he knew his mother and brothers were cold and weary too; so hestruggled on manfully through the ankle-deep snow. And, at last, he gottoo tired even to feel hungry, and began to cry quite gently to himself.

  'Please, mother,' he said, 'I can't go any further.'

  Susan Lepage took him up in her arms and held him close against herbosom. She did not speak; but, if it had been light enough to see, Ithink Peter would have found that she was crying too. For the groundwas all rough and uneven under foot again; and though Antony went firstto the right hand and then to the left he could not make out the roadat all.

  'I've come all wrong, mother,' he said, and his voice trembled. 'Idon't know where we are or which way we are walking. We are lost.'

  There was a silence before his mother answered him.

  'You have done your best,' she said. 'The event is in the hands ofGod.'