Текст книги "Time for Silence"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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As I came into the hall I saw Madame Rochère with Mademoiselle Artois, Miss Carruthers and some of the servants. There was a shocked silence as I wheeled in the perambulator.

I looked straight at Madame Rochère and said, ‘The Plantains’ cottage is destroyed. Monsieur and Madame Plantain have both been killed. The baby was in his perambulator in the garden. He is unharmed. So I brought him here. I shall look after him.”

It was the first time I had spoken to Madame Rochère with authority. I was determined. I had made a solemn promise to a dead woman, and I intended to keep it.

Madame Rochère looked shocked—as indeed they all did—and I was amazed that she showed surprise neither at my announcement nor at the sight of the baby.

“Help is coming,” she said. “Those poor people. So soon…We will arrange something for the child.”

“I am looking after him,” I said. “He knows me. He will miss Madame Plantain. He must be with me.”

She took no notice and walked past me, so I lifted Edouard up and took him to my dormitory.

I was glad I had it to myself. The others had gone, Caroline with them. She had taken the train to the French border with the other English girls on the previous day.

Miss Carruthers came in.

“Do you know how to care for a child?” she asked. “I think it would be best to hand him over to Madame Printemps. She will know what to do.”

Madame Printemps worked in the kitchens, a plump, middle-aged woman who had had eight children.

“He knows me,” I said. “He will be frightened by strangers. I have promised to look after him.”

I realized that taking that solemn oath had had an effect on me. I spoke with a resolution that made some impression on those who heard it. Previously I should have been told not to be foolish, and to hand over the baby to Madame Printemps without delay.

But perhaps they were all suffering from the shock of the bombardment by air. Perhaps they were thinking, It was the Plantains today, who will it be tomorrow?

However, no attempt was made to take Edouard from me. I put him to bed and lay down beside him.

“Edouard,” I said, “you are going to be my baby from now on. There is nothing to fear. My mother will help me look after you. She knows a great deal about babies. She will understand when I tell her I have made a solemn promise to Madame Plantain so that she could die happy.”

Then I lay very still, weeping for Marguerite Plantain who had cared so much for this child. Edouard stared at me gravely and put out a finger to touch a tear. I took his hand and kissed it, and I said, “Edouard, we shall be together. You will be safe with me.”

While I lay there Annabelinda came in. She stared at us.

“I’ve heard,” she said. “I think you must be mad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bringing in a baby like that.”

“He had no one to look after him,” I said. “The Plantains are both dead…killed by that cruel bomb. I have promised Madame Plantain to take him to England.”

“Take him to England! It won’t be allowed.”

“It will be.”

“What about Madame Rochère? Do you think she will let you do such a thing?”

“She will have to, because I have made up my mind. It’s not for her to say.”

“What about this Major Merrivale?”

“If he takes me, he will take the baby.”

“I can’t understand you, Lucinda. You seem to have lost your senses. Do you realize what an awkward position we are in?”

“I do indeed,” I heard myself say. “Perhaps I understand a lot more than you realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am taking the baby with me. I am going to look after him. Someone has to. His parents didn’t want to bother with him.”

“I know it’s sad,” she said. “But he’s Belgian. Someone here can look after him. He belongs here. We have enough to do. We’ve got to get home before it gets worse.”

“He does not belong here,” I said slowly and deliberately, and I was amazed at the strength of my anger toward her, sitting there smugly, caring only for herself. I could not stop myself. I forgot my promise to Jean Pascal. I forgot everything but my concern for the child and my anger against Annabelinda. “He does belong here, with us,” I went on. “With us…with you. You want him left behind, because to you he is an encumbrance…just as he was when he was born. Edouard is your son, Annabelinda, the child who was put out with the Plantains so as to be rid of him, so that you might not have an impediment in your life.”

She had turned pale, and then the color rushed into her face. “What…what are you saying?” she whispered.

I could not understand myself. I was overwrought. I had been more deeply shocked by my experience than I realized. I could not control myself. It was too late to try now, and I was not sure in that moment that I wanted to.

I went on. “I have grown fond of Edouard. I used to go to the cottage to see him. He knows me. I found out about…everything…by chance. I know that you were not ill and that you had to go away because you were going to have a child…Carl’s child. Your grandfather and the Princesse arranged it. They paid the Plantains to take Edouard so that no one would know of your…indiscretion…and you could make some grand marriage when the time came and live happily ever after, just as though Edouard did not exist. But he does exist. And you can’t move people around just because they may be a nuisance to you. Edouard is your son. He will be alone in the world. I daresay your grandfather would find someone else to take him in and would pay them well for doing so. Oh yes, he would do all that. But Edouard is a person now. He has lost the one he loved…who was a mother to him. He only has me now and I am going to look after him.”

She was staring at me incredulously. “You—you can’t rush into this…” she stammered. “People just can’t pick up children.”

“I can and I’m going to. He is going to England with me.”

“And what…when we get there?”

I felt a twinge of pity for her. She was frightened, and I had rarely seen Annabelinda in that state. I relented a little. I had broken a promise and I was ashamed of myself in a way, and yet, I asked myself, why should I be silent now? Why should she not know who Edouard was? Why should she not shoulder her responsibilities? This helpless child, lying on the bed, looking from one to the other of us, was hers.

Yet I felt he was mine. She would never give him the love and care he needed.

Then I relented. She was having that effect on me which she always had. She was wayward Annabelinda and whatever she did could not alter my affection for her.

I was calmer now. The storm was passing. I must try to do all I could to mend the damage I had done by breaking my promise.

“Listen, Annabelinda,” I said. “I know what happened, because I found out. I know your grandfather and the Princesse took you away. You went to a clinic in Bergerac; the child was born there. Madame Rochère was in the secret. She wanted no scandals at the school, and she was a strong ally of your grandfather. She knew that Madame Plantain had just lost a child, and it seemed an opportunity too good to miss. There must have been some misgiving about putting Edouard so near the school. However, it all seemed remote enough, and you would be there only for another two years. It appeared to be a satisfactory solution. I suppose it would have been. I discovered so much because I had been visiting the Plantains. Anyway, I was in on the secret. That wouldn’t have mattered. I would have said nothing. Then the war came and changed everything. So I have planned what I shall do. I shall take Edouard home with me. My mother will help me.”

“You will tell her…”

“I shall just say that his foster-parents were killed. I had visited them and was fond of him and could not leave him behind. I know it will be all right. He will be like a brother to me and to Charles. I know I can rely on my parents.”

“Don’t tell them, Lucinda. Promise you won’t tell.”

“I won’t promise. But I will only tell them if it is necessary to do so.”

“But…no one must know. It would be awful!”

“I shall tell no one. I know I burst out with it…but that was to you.”

“I didn’t know he was my baby.”

“I was aware of that. The arrangement with the Plantains was between them and your grandfather’s solicitors.”

“Oh, Lucinda, it’s terrible! And I thought it was all over. What terrible bad luck.”

I could not help smiling at her. Her secret was disclosed because there was a war. I thought of Jacques Plantain lying dead in the remains of his home, and Madame Plantain’s last thoughts for the welfare of the child she loved. And this, to Annabelinda, was her bad luck.

Well, she was Annabelinda. She would see every event as it affected her. Perhaps we all did. Perhaps I should not think too badly of Annabelinda.

I said to her, “What is done is done. We just have to go on from here. Edouard will have a good home with my parents. You know my mother. She will welcome him. I will make her understand that I had to bring him.”

“And so no one need know,” said Annabelinda. “He will be just a child who lost his parents in an air raid in Belgium. And you brought him home with you because you could not leave a child.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Lucinda. If it ever came out…”

“It need not,” I assured her.

“You have always been my best friend. We are fond of each other, in spite of…”

“Yes, Annabelinda, that’s true. I want to help you. You behaved very foolishly over that young man.”

“I know.”

“But it is over now. We have to forget. We shall take the baby home with us. I am sure everything will go smoothly. My parents will raise no objections. I only have to let them see how important Edouard is to me. It will all seem quite plausible because it is wartime. It is going to be all right, Annabelinda.”

She threw herself into my arms and hugged me. The baby crowed with pleasure, as though he found the scene very amusing.

I went to him and picked him up. “Look, Annabelinda,” I said. “Isn’t he a little darling?”

They regarded each other speculatively.

“Sit down,” I said. She did and I put him on her lap. He studied her with curiosity. Then he began to whimper suddenly; he turned away from her and held out his arms to me.

Exodus

IT WAS MID-MORNING OF the next day when Major Merrivale arrived at La Pinière.

From the moment I saw him my spirits rose; and that was the effect he had on everyone. There was about him a certain rare quality that changed the atmosphere merely by his presence. He had an air of extreme confidence; his manner implied that all was well with his world and he was going to make it so for others.

In the first place he was tall—a little over six feet. He had brown eyes that sparkled with merriment. His features were not set in a classical mold, but they were well formed and he had a kindly expression. But it was his apparent conviction that all was well with him, and would be with all those around him, that was just what we needed at that time.

Madame Rochère was clearly extremely relieved, for she had become very worried about our continued stay at La Pinière, as she did not know from one hour to the next how close the Germans were to the school. And that our rescuer should be a man of overwhelming charm who inspired such confidence was a blessing indeed.

He drove up in an army car—a large vehicle—and came striding into the hall.

“I’m Merrivale,” he announced. “I believe you are expecting me.”

We all went very quickly to the hall, for we had been on the alert for his arrival for some time.

“Yes, yes, we have been waiting for you,” Madame Rochère said. “The girls are ready to leave whenever you wish. I expect you would like a little refreshment before you leave. It shall be prepared at once. I will have the girls brought here.”

There was no need. Having heard the arrival, we were already there.

“I’m Lucinda Greenham and this is Annabelinda Denver,” I said.

He took my hand and smiled at me. I felt a deep pleasure. There was something so completely confident about him that one felt there was now nothing to fear. We should soon be home.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said. “There was congestion all along the route. People are realizing that the enemy is on the way.”

Annabelinda was smiling at him and he took her hand as he had mine.

“I’m glad I’m here at last. We’ll have you out of this place very soon. When can you leave?”

“Madame Printemps will serve a light luncheon,” said Madame Rochère. “Then you can get away. Most of the servants have gone. They are afraid the Germans will come here. They are trying to get over the border.”

He nodded. “That’s the general idea,” he said.

Miss Carruthers came into the hall.

“Oh, Miss Carruthers, this is Major Merrivale,” I said.

“Ah, yes,” she replied. “How do you do? You have come to take the girls home. I wondered if…” she began, and hesitated. “Well, I have to get home, too. I didn’t feel I could leave while these two were here…and, of course, I wasn’t sure how to get to the coast myself.”

“You mean you want to come along with us,” said the major, with a smile. “But of course. There’s plenty of room.”

Miss Carruthers’s face expressed her joy and relief. I could see that he had the same effect on her as he had on the rest of us.

“Now,” put in Madame Rochère. “You girls have everything ready. Déjeuner will be served now…and then you can leave. Come along into the dining room and we can start.”

We followed her there. I walked beside the major and said, “I must tell you, there is a baby.”

He turned and looked at me. He had a way of raising his eyebrows that was very attractive and somehow made one feel that it would be easy to make him understand.

“A baby?” he said.

“The cottages near the school were destroyed by a Zeppelin. The people there—a husband and wife—were killed. They left a baby. I knew them. I used to visit them. I brought the baby here.”

“And you want to take the child along with you?”

“I must. I made a solemn promise. It was when she was dying.”

“I see. And you promised the mother to take care of the child. Do you know how to look after it?”

“Oh, yes….And you don’t mind…?”

He laughed. “I don’t think I should be very good at looking after it. But you ladies will see to that, I am sure.”

I laughed with him. I thought he was wonderful. I turned away to hide my emotion and he took my arm and pressed it.

Not only was he capable and lighthearted, he had understood at once.

After the meal—which made me think of the Feast of the Passover—our pieces of baggage were put in the army vehicle, and in a short time we were driving to the border.

We were very soon in heavy traffic. It seemed as though the entire population of Belgium was eager to get out of the country. It was a pathetic sight to see that lost, bewildered look on the faces of so many. There were vehicles of all sorts, people on bicycles, some with wheelbarrows, some on foot—all with one purpose: to get away before the invading army caught up with them.

Major Merrivale was in complete command. He sat at the driver’s wheel and Annabelinda had contrived it so that she was in the front beside him. Miss Carruthers and I, with Edouard, sat in the back.

The major kept up a conversation most of the time. He told us that the British army was already coming into France.

“It won’t be long before we are driving the Germans back,” he said. “In the meantime, we have to prepare. We were all caught a little on the hop, as the saying goes, while the Germans had been planning this for years. The Kaiser was determined on it. He has been trying to get at us for years…ever since he sent that telegram of congratulations to Kruger at the time of the South African war—and that’s going back a bit. We shall have to teach him a lesson. Are you comfortable at the back?”

“Oh, yes, thanks,” we both said.

“And Monsieur Edouard?”

“He’s happy. He’s finding it all very amusing.”

“Wise child. That’s the right attitude.”

“It can’t be very amusing for these people who are leaving their homes,” I said.

“It will only be temporarily,” he replied. “Soon they will all be going back.”

“When do you think the Germans will reach Mons, Major?” asked Miss Carruthers.

“That’s hard to say, but if they keep up their present speed, I’d say in a week or so.”

“Is it as bad as that?”

“Oh, it was a foul thing to do…to plunge into a country which has nothing whatever to do with this…just because it is easy to get to the enemy that way. Poor little Belgium…completely without the means to resist. Never mind, we’ll soon make those Germans wish they hadn’t started this.”

“You are very confident,” I said.

“I’ve always been like this. Often I’m wrong, but at least I’ve had the pleasure of believing everything will come right…even if it does go the other way. So you see, it’s not such a foolish attitude to take.”

“I think it is the right attitude,” said Annabelinda, smiling at him.

He returned the smile. I thought, He is finding her attractive…and for the simple reason that she is.

“It is a matter of opinion,” put in Miss Carruthers. “It’s like everything in life. There is a good side and a bad side. But the major is right when he says it is good to be optimistic, as long as one is prepared to face the truth when one is proved to be wrong.”

“Ah,” said the major, “we have a philosopher here. A Sibyl.”

“Actually,” said Miss Carruthers, “my name is Sybil.”

The major gave his infectious laugh and we all joined in, Miss Carruthers as heartily as any.

I thought then, Here we are, in this hazardous situation, in circumstances which are tragic to so many, and yet there are times when we can laugh and, yes, really be happy.

And we were on our way. I had Edouard with me and there had been no opposition to his coming. Miss Carruthers was different from what she had ever been before. Annabelinda had put that upsetting scene between us right out of her mind.

And this was all due to Major Merrivale.

It was evening before we crossed the frontier.

Major Merrivale told us that his name was Marcus and, as he did not see any reason why we should stand on ceremony, he suggested we should drop the “Major” and address him by his Christian name.

“This,” he said, “is a very special occasion, is it not? We are going to remember this for a long time. Don’t you agree?”

We all did wholeheartedly.

“Now I think that young man at the back will be wondering why he is kept from his slumbers.”

“Actually,” I replied, “he is deep in them now, so I am sure he is wondering no such thing.”

“All the same, he ought to be made comfortable for the night. I think we all deserve that, and now that the desire for speed is not so intense, I am going to find an inn where we can stay.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Annabelinda.

We all agreed that it would be.

“There’s a little place near Saint-Amand. We might make for that,” he said.

“You seem to know the country well,” said Annabelinda.

“I studied the map and I discussed it with a fellow officer who did know something. There is an inn called Le Cerf. The Stag. Sounds homely, doesn’t it? The sort of place you’d find in the New Forest, say. So we’ll look for that. There will probably be a board outside depicting the creature. If we can’t find that, we’ll soon find something else.”

There was not so much traffic on the roads now, and I was glad. It was so depressing to see those poor people driven from their homes. I hoped they were all safely over the border by now…and that they would soon be on the way back to their homes.

We found Le Cerf. It was a fair-sized inn with tables in the gardens surrounding it. There was a somewhat loquacious host who greeted us effusively, largely, I think, because of Marcus Merrivale’s presence. He was a member of the British army and therefore an ally.

There were three rooms available: One was allotted to the major and one to Miss Carruthers; and Annabelinda and I shared the third with Edouard. We went to them to wash, and agreed to meet in the lounge when we were ready.

There were two beds in our room, and first I looked after Edouard. Some soup and a creamy pudding were sent up to him. I fed him and prepared him for bed, and soon he was fast asleep.

Annabelinda in the meantime was washing. She sat before the mirror, studying her face, while I went on dealing with Edouard.

“This is quite an adventure,” she said contentedly.

“We can certainly call it that.”

“We shall soon be home now. I wonder if we shall see Major Merrivale after he has taken us there.”

“Perhaps he will call. He will know my Uncle Gerald well, I expect.”

“Of course. It was your Uncle Gerald who gave him the task of bringing us back. It’s rather romantic, isn’t it?” She laughed.

“Not too loudly, please, Annabelinda. Edouard’s just going off to sleep.”

“Perhaps I should go down. You could come when you are ready.”

“All right. I may be some little time. I want to make sure he’s fast asleep. I wouldn’t want him waking up in a strange place and finding himself alone.”

She went with alacrity.

She was clearly enjoying the adventure, largely because of Major Merrivale’s presence. And I shared her euphoria. We should soon be home. I longed to see my parents. My mother would know exactly what was best for Edouard and she would understand my feelings about him immediately. How lucky I was in my parents!

Then I began to wonder if Major Merrivale would call on us. I felt sure he would.

I was elated that night. I kept telling myself that it was because we were on our way home and, in Major Merrivale’s care, must soon be there.

There was a gentle tap on the door. I called, “Come in,” and Miss Carruthers entered. It was strange to think of her as Sybil.

“I thought I’d come along and see how you were managing with the baby.”

I pointed to Edouard. “He has just had some soup and pudding and he’s asleep now. I think he is reasonably pleased with life.”

Miss Carruthers went over to look at him. “Poor little mite,” she said.

“I intend that he shall be a lucky and happy little mite.”

“You’re a good girl, Lucinda,” she said. I was surprised. I had not expected such a compliment from her. But everything was different today. It had something to do with Major Merrivale. He was having an effect on us all.

“What a charming man the major is,” she went on. “He makes no trouble of anything. He just inspires one with confidence.”

I agreed, and as we went down to the lounge, I said, “I shall come up again soon just to make sure Edouard is all right. I don’t know how this has affected him. I’m glad he isn’t any older. Then I feel he would have been most upset.”

“Oh, he is too young to know what is happening. I think he is very fond of you, and while you are around he will feel safe.”

“He will surely miss Madame Plantain.”

“Yes. He’ll miss his mother. My dear Lucinda, you have taken on a great deal, you know.”

“My mother will help me. She is wonderful and she will know exactly what to do.”

“I hope I shall meet her.”

“But of course you must. Have you far to go to your home?”

She was silent for a few moments. “Well,” she said at length, “I stay with my cousin during holidays. I was going there for two months when school broke up. We don’t know what will be happening now, do we?”

“Do you think we shall all be going back next term?”

She looked somber and shook her head emphatically. “I have a feeling that it is not going to be over as quickly as that. And what damage the Germans will do as they pass through the country, one can never know. They have already killed the Plantains and destroyed their home. That sort of thing is happening all over Belgium. I’m afraid, Lucinda, that everything is rather uncertain. Come…they will be waiting for us.”

In the lounge Annabelinda was talking animatedly to Major Merrivale, and they were both laughing.

“You’ve been ages,” said Annabelinda. “We’re starving.”

“Lucinda has to care for the baby,” retorted Miss Carruthers rather reprovingly.

“Dear Lucinda! She’s so efficient, Marcus.”

“I’m sure she is.”

The host came and said that dinner was about to be served, and we went into the dining room. Two people were already sitting there. They were both young…not much more than twenty, I imagined.

The young man looked up as we entered and said, “Good evening.” The girl said nothing.

Then the host’s wife came in with hot soup, which was followed by cold beef with potatoes baked in their jackets.

Marcus Merrivale kept up a steady stream of conversation in which we all joined, and just as we were finishing the beef, the girl stood up abruptly and hurried from the room. The young man went out after her.

“What was all that about?” said Annabelinda. “That girl seemed upset.”

“I think a great number of people are upset tonight,” I remarked.

After a short while the young man returned to the dining room. He seemed upset and he looked across to our table almost apologetically.

“Can we do anything to help?” asked the major.

There was a brief silence while apple pie was brought.

“Would you like to join us?” went on Marcus. “You look rather lonely sitting there.”

“Thank you,” replied the young man. He seemed grateful. We made a place for him at our table and he brought his plate over and sat down.

There was something disarming about him. He looked so young, and he was clearly worried. As he seated himself at the table, I noticed there was something unusual about one of his hands. He had lost half his little finger.

I was ashamed when he caught me looking at it.

“It was my own fault,” he said. “I was playing with fireworks.”

“How terrible!” I cried.

“Yes….One careless moment and one has a reminder for the rest of one’s life.”

“It is not very noticeable.”

He smiled at me ruefully. “One is conscious of it.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I suppose one really is more conscious of one’s disabilities than other people are.” He smiled and went on. “We have had a terrible shock, my sister and I. We have lost our home and our parents. I can’t believe it now. That day, we were all there together…just as we had always been, and then suddenly…our home is gone…our parents killed. I can’t believe it even now.”

“It’s happening all over Belgium, I’m afraid,” said Marcus.

“I know. But because others are suffering in the same way, that does not make it any easier.”

“Where are you going now?” asked Marcus.

“I am going to join the French army, but I am worried about Andrée. You see…there isn’t anyone now…”

“Where do you come from?” asked Marcus.

“Just outside Charleroi. We have lived there all our lives, and now…Well, I had thought about joining the army some little while ago…and now, of course, it seems the only thing. But there is Andrée.”

“Where were you going?” Marcus asked.

“I wanted Andrée to go to England. We’ve got an aunt there. Andrée visited her only last year. She lives in a place called Somerset. Our aunt married an Englishman. But…er…Andrée does not want to go there. She wants to stay with me. But if I am going into the army…Poor Andrée, she can’t grasp what has happened to us. The sound of the guns was terrible. They were only a few miles away. Everyone was getting out. My parents didn’t want to leave the farm. They’d been there all their married life. How can you get up and leave everything you’ve ever known? And then it was too late. It all went up in a sort of cloud…the fields…the house itself. And my parents were in the house. Andrée and I were in the fields some way off. That is why we are here now.”

“It is a sad story,” said Miss Carruthers. “It wouldn’t have seemed possible a few weeks ago, and now it is happening all round us.”

“It is a difficult decision to make,” went on the young man. “I don’t want to leave Andrée, but I’ll feel happier if she is in England. I feel I must get into the army somehow. I have always wanted to, and now I feel I have to fight this vicious enemy.”

“Your great anxiety is for your sister,” said Marcus.

The young man nodded. He had not touched his apple pie.

“I should try to eat, if I were you,” said Marcus gently. But the young man shook his head and pushed the plate away.

As soon as the meal was over, I went up to see Edouard. He was sleeping peacefully. I felt depressed by the conversation with the young man, who was just another of those who were enduring terrible suffering at this time.

When I rejoined the party, he was still there. He obviously found comfort in the society of sympathetic listeners.

He was still talking about his sister, Andrée, and stressing how relieved he would be if she were safe in England.

At length Marcus reminded us that we had to make an early start in the morning and what we needed was a good night’s sleep. So we said good-bye to the young man, whom we had by this time discovered was Georges Latour, wished him the best of luck and went to our rooms.

I was pleased to see that Edouard was still sleeping peacefully. I slept in the bed with him, and Annabelinda took the other; and in spite of the excitement of the day, I was soon fast asleep.

When I awoke, I wondered where I was until I looked around the room and saw Edouard beside me and Annabelinda asleep in the other bed.

I yawned and got up, wondering what this day would bring.

In the dining room there was coffee and crusty bread, hot from the oven. Georges Latour was at the table.

“Andrée is not up yet,” he said.

“Is she feeling better?” I said.

“A little, I think. Things never seem quite so bad in the morning, do they?”

“I suppose not.”

I fed Edouard, who regarded Georges Latour solemnly. He said, “Whose is the baby?”

I told him about the Zeppelin raid and the deaths of Jacques and Marguerite Plantain, and how I had found Edouard in his perambulator in the garden.

“I knew him, you see. I used to visit them. It wasn’t as though he were a stranger to me. I could not leave him.”

“What a tragedy this war is for so many!” said Georges.

And I was sorry to have reminded him of his own tragedy. We sat in gloomy silence for a few minutes, and then Marcus came. The atmosphere changed. Even Georges Latour seemed to brighten a little.

“Ah, up in good time, I see,” said Marcus. “And young Edouard? How is he finding life this morning?”

“Much as usual,” I replied. “He seems to be rather indifferent to his surroundings.”

“As long as he has someone to see to his comforts, what does he care where he is?” said Marcus. “You really are very good at looking after him.”