Barbara in Brittany | Page 7

very glad to leave the neighbourhood, for they saw the red
nightcap peeping out at the end of the archway, and it seemed as if
there were more friends of the same kind in the rear.
"It is most absurd for the man to think we should have been staying
here. I think he must be mad."
"Yes," returned Barbara, not knowing what else to say, and they
continued to rumble over more cobble stones and down dark roads, till
they finally stopped in a dimly-lighted street, which, however, was
broad and clean, with fairly large houses on either side.
Barbara got out with some misgivings, wondering what their fate
would be this time. She had to ring several times as before; but as there
was no dark archway, and the cab was close by, she had not the same
fear. When the door opened, she could distinguish nothing at first, but
presently espied a little woman, in a white nightcap, holding a candle.
"Dear me!" she thought, "candles and nightcaps seem to be the fashion
here;" but aloud, merely asked politely for Madame Belvoir, hoping
that she was not speaking to the lady in question. Before the portière
(for it was she) could answer, a bright light shone out at the far end of
the passage, and a girl came hurrying down, saying, "Madame Belvoir?
Mais oui, entrez, entrez. C'est Mademoiselle Britton, n'est-ce pas?"
Mademoiselle Britton was not a little relieved, and so, I am sure, was
her poor aunt, who came hurrying out of the cab, and was so glad to get
rid of it that she paid the ten francs the man demanded without a
murmur.
The French girl explained in broken English that her mother greatly
regretted being absent, having been called away suddenly to an uncle
who was ill, but that she and her sister would do their utmost to make

Miss Britton comfortable.
By that time they had reached the end of the passage and were led into
a comfortable room, where another girl was waiting. Tea was ready for
them too, and Barbara thought she had never appreciated it more. She
tried to explain the reason of their late arrival, and told some of their
adventures; but, although both the French girls listened politely and
smiled and nodded, Barbara thought that neither of them understood
much of what she said. However, she did not mind that, and presently
they led the way upstairs to a room that was a haven of delight to the
wanderers. The windows opened on to a garden whence the scent of
lilac floated, and the whole room--down to the hearth-brush, which
charmed Barbara--was decorated in blue.
With the memory of that other Rue St. Sulpice still fresh in their minds,
their present quarters indeed seemed delightful; and Barbara declared
she could have fallen upon the necks of both girls and kissed them.
"A quite unnecessary and most impertinent proceeding," Aunt Anne
replied curtly. "They will much prefer pounds, shillings, and pence to
embraces," and Barbara thought that after all she was probably right.
CHAPTER III.
A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE.
It was very nice to waken the next morning and find the sunshine
streaming in at the windows.
Barbara was ready to be charmed with everything, from the pretty little
maid in the mob cap, who carried in the breakfast, to the crisp rolls and
coffee. Both of the travellers were quite rested, and eager to begin
sight-seeing, and Miss Britton left the choice of place to her niece. The
latter diligently scanned the guide-book as she took her breakfast, and
kept calling out fresh suggestions every few moments; but, finally, they
determined on the Louvre as most worthy of their first visit.
I do not know whether it was the experience of the night before, but

Aunt Anne seemed to have a fixed idea that Paris was full of thieves,
and before starting out she made the most careful preparations for
encountering pickpockets. She sewed some of her money into a little
bag inside her dress, put some more into a pocket in her underskirt, and
said that Barbara might pay for things in general, as it would teach her
the use of French money. She herself kept only a few centimes in a
shabby purse in her dress pocket, "to disappoint any thief who took it."
As soon as the fiacre stopped in the court of the Louvre, they were
besieged by several disreputable and seedy-looking men wanting to act
as guides through the galleries. Partly to get rid of the rest, partly
because they thought it might be easier, they engaged the
tidiest-looking one who seemed to know most English, and, feeling
rather pleased with themselves, entered the first gallery. Of course,
Barbara wished to begin by seeing those