she was conscious of nothing save the cows; but suddenly a hand clutched hers, and a voice whispered,
“Moriole, I faint! I die! I can bear no more!”
Honor, turning in amazement, beheld Stephanie, white as chalk, her eyes starting from their sockets, her teeth absolutely chattering.
“But what is it?” she cried. “Stephanie, what ails thee? My Sister, Stephanie is ill!”
“My child!” Soeur Séraphine turned in anxiety. “You find yourself ill?”
“She’s afraid of the cows!” said Patricia bluntly.
“But no! of these gentle creatures? Can it be? Come, my child! Lay your hand on the beautiful head! Observe her gentleness! A lamb is less mild!”
She tried to draw Stephanie toward her: and in so doing drew back the saucer a little. La Dumaine pursued it, snuffing and blowing appreciatively: at this Stephanie uttered a wild shriek, and springing up, rushed to one side to escape the terrible animal, who, she cried out, would devour her.
Alas! Stephanie had recently had a present of a scarlet parasol, of which she was inordinately proud. So proud that she had brought it with her to the fête, regardless of the gibes of the other girls. In her sidewise rush, the parasol, still clutched in her hand, was presented full to the view of the Duchess of Montbazon, within two feet of her purple nose. The Duchess, in no mood to endure this, lowered her head with a furious bellow, and leaving her place in the ranks, advanced upon Stephanie, who fled with shrieks that rent the air. The other cows, startled, huddled together: at the rear, Le Roi, the splendid young bull, raised his great head, crowned with the milking-stool, and uttered a loud moo of inquiry.
It was a bad moment; but Atli and the Queen were equal to the emergency. A touch on the neck, a word in the ear; La Dumaine turned from her “bonbons” and with regal pace and head lifted high, started across the plot of greensward and up the track that led to the mountain pasture. After a moment’s confusion, the other cows, aided by voice and hand of the farm maidens, followed in their regular order. Gretli rescued the shrieking Stephanie and carried her bodily into the house. The shepherds, shouting with laughter, corralled the Duchess of Montbazon in a corner of the yard, and drove her, still bellowing rage and defiance, after the herd. She followed for some paces behind Le Roi, who, conscious of his duty to guard the rear, turned his head frequently to utter snorts of rebuke and remonstrance. Finally, jealousy and ambition triumphed over the sulks. Breaking into a clumsy gallop, La Duchesse plunged past the bull, past Dine and Chine, Claudine, Martine and the rest, and shouldered her way in behind La Dumaine and beside Célimène. The former pursued her serene way, taking no notice; the latter – well, cows cannot laugh, but Célimène’s carriage was very expressive as with a whisk of her tail and a “wallop” of her hind-quarters, she made place for the rebel beside her. So the herd swept out and away, Atli still walking beside his Queen: and after them, shouting and laughing, went the neighbor boys and girls, to finish their holiday with a feast of curds and whey, cheese and black bread in the mountain pasture.
CHAPTER V
BIMBO
The living room (kitchen, sitting room and dining room in one) of the Châlet was also in festal trim as Gretli ushered her guests in; good, faithful Gretli, who had planned all, gladly giving up her part in the mountain feast for the sake of entertaining her “honored patrons” and their pupils. The floor was white with scrubbing; the little windows gleamed like diamonds; the sunbeams darting through them made lively play among the brass and copper vessels ranged on the dresser, or hanging on the whitewashed walls.
The only dark thing in the room was the fireplace, and that had a good right to its warm sootiness. All about it hung hams and flitches of bacon, and strings of sausages, the pride of the thrifty Twins: there was bread, too, though some people might not have recognized it in the large flat round cakes with a hole in the middle, strung on ropeyarn and hanging in festoons from the rafters. Madame Madeleine glanced upward and nodded approval.
“A fine showing, my Gretli! Thou hast provision for many winters there.”
Gretli beamed with modest pride. “We do our possible!” she said. “Atli is indeed a marvel of strength and industry; and we have our Zitli!” she added, glancing at the lame boy, a lovely look in her face. “Without Zitli, where should we be? He turns the hams, he keeps the fire at the proper height, he stuffs the sausages; unaided he does it! As for the cheese – it is well known that he is called the little Prince of Cheesemakers. Let my gracious Ladies descend, if they will have the condescension, and inspect the cheese room!”
The cheese room was dark and cool – and dripping! No ice in mountain châlets, but through the middle of the room ran a little crystal stream whose water needed no ice.
“It comes down from the Alps!” Zitli explained. “My brother persuaded it, with a wooden conduit; my faith, the good Nix was willing enough; ever since then she sends her stream; in the dryest summer, it never fails. No other châlet has such a stream. It is because of the virtue of my brother and sister!” he added simply.
“Zitli!” Gretli spoke in gentle reproof. “These are not words to say before honorable guests, though I love thee for them, my little one. See, my ladies! here stand the pans, thus, on either side the stream; these are for the cream cheeses, the other for those of milk alone. Observe now the cheeses!”
She led the way proudly to the end of the room – it was really more like a cavern – where, on broad shelves, stood the great round cheeses, tier on tier, all neatly marked with date and weight.
“I didn’t suppose there was so much cheese in the world!” said Honor.
Gretli laughed merrily. “My faith, mademoiselle! Twice in the year we send forth this quantity, from this one châlet, by no means one of the largest of this Alp.”
“But assuredly one of the best!” said Madame Madeleine.
“Madame is kindness in person! We do our possible. Consider then, mademoiselle, that in fifty châlets on this single Alp, equal numbers or larger are made, are sent out twice in the year; and that there are countless Alps in our dear country; mademoiselle sees, without doubt, that there is no danger of the world being without cheese. Look! on this shelf, behold the little cheeses of cream, called Neufchatel from that good town where first they were produced. If Madame permits, we would like, Zitli and I, to present to each of the demoiselles one of these small objects.”
“Oh!” cried the girls in chorus. “Oh, Gretli! Oh, Madame, may we?”
Madame looked doubtful. “It is too much – ” she began.
“With respect!” cried Gretli. “They are made entirely of cream; is it not so, Zitli? Yesterday we made them, Zitli and I, expressly for our demoiselles. Quite frankly, the new-born infant might eat them without injury. They are even thought to be stomachic in their quality.”
“That was far from being my thought,” Madame explained graciously. “I feared we might rob you, my Gretli; but since you have made this charming present for my pupils – come, my children! you have permission to accept – not forgetting, I trust, the thanks that are due!”
A chorus of delight and thanks broke out, as the neat little rolls of silver-papered cheese, each stamped Châlet des Rochers, were dealt out. Maria Patterson and Vivette proposed to eat theirs on the spot; Loulou tried to stuff hers into her pocket.
Gretli offered a better suggestion. “This basket,” she said, “will hold all, and my young ladies will, I trust, enjoy at their supper the little fruits
