"_Chere_, we'll tell you! Yvonne and me, avter all those many 'appy year' with you, we think we want--ah, _cherie_, you'll pardon that?--we want ad the laz' to live independent! So we go ad the archbishop. And he say, 'How _I'm_ going to make you that? You think to be independent by biccoming Sizter' of Charitie--of Mercy--of St. Joseph?'

"'Ah, no,' we say, 'we have not the geniuz to be those; not even to be Li'l'-Sizter'-of-the-Poor. All we want--and we coul'n' make ourselv'

the courage to ask you that, only we've save' you so large egspenses not asking you that already sinze twenty-thirty year' aggo--we want you to put us in orphan asylum.' We was af-raid at firz' he's goin' to be mad; but he smile very kine and say: 'Yes, yes; you want, like the good Lord say, to biccome like li'l' children, eh?'

"'Ah, yes!' we tell him, 'tha'z what we be glad to do. They got nothing in the worl' we can do, Yvonne and me, so easy like that! And same time we be no egspense, like those li'l' _orpheline_'; we can wash dish', make bed', men' ap.r.o.n'; and in that way we be independent!'

Well, he scratch his head; yet same time he smile', while he say, 'Go, li'l' children, to yo' home. I'll see if Mere Veronique can figs that, and if yes, I'll san' for you.' And, _cherie_, juz' the way he said that, we are _sure_ he's goin' to san'."

With her tears running freely Aline softly laughed. She rose, took a hand of each aunt, laid the two together, bent low, and kissed them, saying: "He will not, for he shall not. Nothing shall ever part us but heaven."

XLIV

One evening M. Castanado sat reading to his wife from a fresh number of the weekly _Courier des Etats-Unis_.

It was not long after the incident last mentioned. Chester had become accustomed to his new lift in fortune, but as yet no further word as to the ma.n.u.script had reached him; he had only just written a second letter of inquiry after it. Also that summons to the two aunts, from the archbishop, of which the pair were so sure, was still unheard; no need had arisen for Aline to take any counter-step. We _could_ name the exact date, for it was the day of the week on which the _Courier_ always came, and the week was the last in which a Ca.n.a.l Street movie-show beautifully presented the matchless Bernhardt as a widowed shopkeeper--like Mme. Alexandre, but with a son, not daughter, in love.

The door-bell rang. Castanado went down to the street. There, letting in a visitor, he spoke with such animation that madame, listening from her special seat, guessed, and before the two were half up-stairs knew, who it was. It was Melanie Alexandre.

No one answered her mother's bell, she said, kissing madame lingeringly, twice on the forehead and once on either vast cheek. She was short and square, with such serene kindness of face and voice as to be the last you would ever pick out to fall into a mistake of pa.s.sion, however exalted. Of course, that serenity may have come since the mistake. Both Castanados seemed to take note of it as if it had come since, and she to be willing they should note it.

"No," they said, "Mme. Alexandre had gone with Dubroca and his wife to that movie of Sarah."

"And also with M. Beloiseau?" asked Melanie, with a lurking smile, as she sat down so fondly close to madame as to leave both her small hands in one of her friend's.

"Ah, now," madame exclaimed, "there is nothing in that! You ought to be rijoice' if there was."

The new look warmed in Melanie's eyes. "I'll be very glad if that time ever comes," she said.

"Then you billieve in the second love?"

"Ah, in a case like that! Indeed, yes. In their first love they both were happy; the second would be in praise of the first."

"And to separate them there is only the street," Castanado suggested, "and Royal Street, street of their birth and chilehood, and so narrow, it have the effect to join, not separate. But!"--he made a wary motion--"kip quite, eize they will not go into the net, those old bird', hah!"

There was a smiling silence, and then--"Well," madame said, "they are all to stop here as they riturn. Waiting here, you'll see them all."

"Yes, and beside', I have some good news for you; news anyhow to me."

The pair smiled brightly: "You 'ave another letter from Dubroca!"

"Yes. He's again wounded and in hospital."

"Oh-h, terrible! tha'z to you good news?"

"Yes. Look, monsieur; he has, at the front, the chance to be hit so many times. If he's. .h.i.t and only wounded his chances to be hit again are made one less, eh? And while he's in hospital they are again two or three less. Shall we not be glad for that? And moreover, how he got his wound, that is better. He got that taking, by himself, nine Boches! And still the best news is what he writes about his friend Castanado."

"Ah, Melanie! And you hold that back till now? And you know we are without news of him sinze a month! He's promote'? He's decorate'?"

"He's found a treasure. I think maybe you'll get his letter to-morrow.

Me, I got mine soon; pa.s.sing the post-office I went in and asked."

"But how, he found a treasure? and what sort?"

"He just happened to dig it up, in a cellar, in Rheims. He's betrothed.'

"Melanie! What are you saying?"

"What he says. And that's all he says. I hope you'll hear all about that to-morrow."

"Oh, any'ow tha'z the bes' of news!" Castanado said, kissing his wife's hand and each temple. "Doubtlezz he's find some lovely orphan of that hideouz war; we can trus' his good sense, our son. But, Melanie, he muz' have been sick, away from the front, to make that courtship."

"I do not know. Everything happens terribly fast these days. I hope you'll hear all about that to-morrow."

Castanado playfully lifted a finger: "Melanie, how is that, you pa.s.s that poss-office, when it is up-town, while you--?" The question hung unfinished--maybe because Melanie turned so red, maybe because the door-bell rang again.

Enlivened by the high art they had been enjoying and by the fresh night air, a full half-dozen came in: M. and Mme. De l'Isle, whom the others had chanced upon as they left the theatre; Dubroca and his wife; Mme.

Alexandre; and finally Beloiseau. "Melanie!" was the cry of each of these as he or she turned from saluting madame; this was one of madame's largest joys; to get early report from larger or smaller fractions of the coterie, on the good things they had seen or heard, from which her muchness otherwise debarred her. The De l'Isles, however, were not such a matter of course as the others, and Mme. De l'Isle, as she greeted Mme. Castanado, said, in an atmosphere that trembled with its load of mingled French and English:

"We got something to show you!"

In the same atmosphere--"And how got you away from yo' patient?" Mme.

Alexandre asked her daughter as they embraced a second time.

"I tore myself," said Melanie, while Castanado, to all the rest, was saying:

"And such great news as Mel'----"

But a sharp glance from Melanie checked him. "Such great news as we have receive'! Our son is bethroath'!--to a good, dizcreet, beautiful French girl; which he _foun_', in a cellar at Rheims!" When a drum-fire of questions fell on him he grew reticent and answered quietly: "We have only that by firz' letter. Full particular' pretty soon, perchanze to-morrow."

"Then to-morrow we'll come hear ab-out it," Beloiseau said, "and tell ab-out the movie. Mme. De l'Isle she's also got fine news, what she cann' tell biffo' biccause"--he waved to Mme. De l'Isle to say why, but her husband spoke for her.

"Biccause," he said, "'tis all in a pigture, war pigture, on a New York Sunday paper, and of co'se we coul'n' stop under street lamp for that; and with yo' permission"--to Mme. Castanado--"we'll show that firz' of all to Scipion."

Beloiseau put on gla.s.ses and looked. "'General Joffre--'" he began to read.

"No, no! not that! This one, where you know the _general_ only by the back of his head."

"Ah--ah, yes; 'Two _aviateur_' riceiving from General Joffre'--my G.o.d!

De l'Isle--my G.o.d! madame,"--Scipion pounded his breast with the paper--"they are yo' son and mine!"

The company rushed to his elbows. "My faith! Castanado, there are their name'! and 'For destrugtion of their eighteenth enemy aeroplane, under circ.u.mstance' calling for exceptional coolnezz and intrepid-ity!'"

There was great and general rejoicing and some quite pardonable boasting, under cover of which Melanie and her mother slipped out by the inside way, without mention of the young Dubroca, his prisoners, sickness, or letter, except to his father and mother, who told of him more openly when the Alexandres were safely gone. That brought fresh gladness and praise, a fair share of which was for Melanie.

So presently the remaining company vanished, leaving Mme. Castanado free to embrace her kneeling husband and boast again the power of prayer.