The Rocks of Valpré | Page 6

Chris, who had viewed the encounter from afar with much interest,
clapped her hands at their approach.
"And you weren't a bit afraid!" she laughed. "I couldn't think what you
would do. Cinders looked so fierce. But any one can see you
understand dogs--even English dogs."
"It is possible that at heart the English and the French resemble each
other more than we think, mademoiselle," observed the Frenchman.
"One can never tell."
He bent again over the injured foot with the sandal in his hand.
"It's very good of you to take all this trouble," said Chris abruptly.
He flashed her a quick smile. "But no, mademoiselle! It gives me
pleasure to be of service to you."
"I'm sure I don't know what I should have done without you," she
rejoined. "Ah, that is much better. I shall be able to walk now."
"You think it?" He looked at her doubtfully.
She nodded. "If you will take me as far as the sand, I shall do
splendidly then. You see, I can't let you come into Valpré with me
because--because--"
"Because, mademoiselle--?" Up went the black brows questioningly.

She flushed a little, but her clear eyes met his with absolute candour.
"We have a French governess," she explained, "who was brought up in
a convent, so she is very easily shocked. If she knew that I had spoken
to a stranger, and a man"--she raised her hands with a merry
gesture--"she would have a fit--several fits. I couldn't risk it. Poor
mademoiselle! She doesn't understand our English ways a bit. Why, she
wouldn't even let me paddle if she could help it. I shall have to keep
very quiet about this foot of mine, or it will be 'Jamais encore!' and
'Encore jamais!' for the rest of my natural life. And, after all,"
pathetically, "there can be no great harm in dipping one's feet in
sea-water, can there?"
But the Frenchman looked grave. "You will show your foot to the
doctor, will you not?" he said.
"Dear me, no!" said Chris.
"_Mais, mademoiselle_--"
She checked him with her quick, winning smile.
"Please don't talk French. I like English so much the best. Besides, it's
holiday-time."
"But, mademoiselle," he persisted, "if it should become serious!"
"Oh, it won't," she said lightly. "I shall be all right. Nothing ever
happens to me."
"Nothing?" he questioned, with an answering smile.
She was hobbling over the stones with his assistance. "Nothing
interesting, I assure you," she said.
"Except when mademoiselle goes to the cavern of the fairies to look for
the magic knight?" he suggested.
She threw him a merry glance. "To be sure! I will come and see you
again some day when the tide is low. Is there a dragon in the cave?"

"He is there only when the tide is high, mademoiselle, a beast
enormous with eyes of fire."
"And a princess?" asked the English girl, keenly interested.
"No, there is no princess."
"Only you and the dragon?"
"Generally only me, mademoiselle."
"Whatever do you do there?" she asked curiously.
His smile was bafflingly direct. "Me? I make magic, mademoiselle."
"What sort of magic?"
"What sort? That is a difficult question."
"May I come and see it?" asked Chris eagerly, scenting a mystery.
He hesitated.
"I'll come all by myself," she assured him.
"_Mais la gouvernante_--"
"As if I should bring her! No, no! I'll come alone--with Cinders."
"_Mais, mademoiselle_--"
"If you say that again I shall be cross," announced Chris.
"But--pardon me, mademoiselle--the governess, might she not object?"
"Absurd!" said Chris. "I am not a French girl, and I won't behave like
one."
He laughed at that, plainly because he could not help it. "Mademoiselle

pleases herself!" he observed.
"Of course I do," returned Chris vigorously. "I always have. I may
come then?"
"But certainly."
"When?"
"When you will, mademoiselle."
Chris considered. They had reached the firm sand, and she stood still.
"I can't come to-morrow because of my foot, and the day after the tide
will be too late. I shall have to wait nearly a fortnight. How dull!"
"In a fortnight, then!" said the Frenchman.
"In a fortnight, preux chevalier!" Her eyes laughed up at him. "But I
dare say we shall meet before then. I hope we shall."
"I hope it also, mademoiselle." He bowed courteously.
She held out her hand. "I shall come on the tenth of the month--it's my
birthday. I'll bring some cakes, and we'll have a party, and invite the
dragon." Her eyes danced. "We will have some fun, shall we?"
"I think that we shall not want the dragon," he smiled back.
"No? Perhaps not. Well, I'll bring Cinders instead."
"Ah, the good Cinders! He is different."
"And we will go exploring," she said eagerly. "I shan't be a bit afraid of
anything with you