Eliot’s clothes, under Eliot’s cap, we were looking into the face of a dark unknown man. I do not know why it was so frightening, but, for the long moment he looked, we froze as
rabbits do and the river seemed to be running in my ears. When his head went down again we retreated backwards through the bulrushes so fast that we were covered in bulrush dust. Then we ran. We
reached Joss’s box and I sank down on it while Hester fell on the grass. My neck and the backs of my knees were clammy and cold; her chin was shaking.
We sat there a long while without speaking and the sun did not make us any warmer.
At last, “Do you think it could be us . . . after the ices?” asked Hester.
“No.”
“It was another m . . .”
“Yes.”
“Then . . . ?” The question seemed to go on and on.
It was some time later that Hester said, “Hullo! Monsieur Joubert’s things have gone.” There was no umbrella, no easle or stool, and Joss’s box, alone on the river bank,
looked small and lonely.
The light grew deeper, swallows were beginning to skim the river as they did when the insects flew down; five o’clock struck from the Hôtel de Ville and we got up to go in. As we
reached the blue door it opened and Mademoiselle Zizi came out.
She was in white and carried a deep mauve sunshade, the colour of heliotrope. She was freshly powdered and made up and her scent came to us in waves. “Are you going out?” we asked
stupidly.
“Only to the cove, to meet Eliot.”
We looked at one another, opened our lips, and shut them.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” said Hester after she had gone.
“Why didn’t you?”
We did not go in but stayed in the orchard. We talked to Willmouse, admired Miss Dawn’s new hat, and played with the dogs. We did not say it to one another but we were waiting to see, and
after what seemed a long while the blue door opened again. Mademoiselle Zizi came through, and behind her was Eliot.
CHAPTER 13
A S SOON as we came into the house we knew that Madame Corbet had sent Mademoiselle Zizi to meet Eliot because she wanted her out of the way.
Madame Corbet was efficient; when anything had to be arranged at Les Oeillets, a dinner, two or three chars-à-bancs of tourists for luncheon or an early breakfast, it was made ready
quietly and swiftly. “But not if Mademoiselle Zizi is there,” said Hester. Mademoiselle Zizi gave contradictory orders to Mauricette, upset Monsieur Armand by suggesting last-minute
changes in the food, took Paul away from his work, and quarrelled with Madame Corbet. It was wiser to send Mademoiselle Zizi away and now the house was being quickly transformed; we could see it
was for a much bigger occasion than any since we had come.
“Is it a banquet ?” asked Willmouse.
The tables in the dining-room had been moved to make one large T, the whole covered with white cloths and laid with silver and glass. “Ninety-four places,” whispered Hester when she
had finished counting. The flowers were not being done as usual by Mauricette; Madame from l’Eglantine and her two Mademoiselles in green overalls were arranging them—carnations,
asparagus ferns and white flowers like small lilies on one stem; they had a strong, sweet smell. “Mauricette says they are tuber roses,” I said.
“I have heard of them,” said Willmouse gravely.
In the bar a platform had been made; we knew it was only of boxes, but, laid with a carpet and palms, it looked impressive. There were more flowers in the hall and bar, and a carpet had been put
down from the front door to the foot of the stairs, “Because the Sous-Préfet and Monsieur le Maire are coming,” said Vicky, who had joined us from the kitchen.
We had seen the Mayor of Southstone at the Armistice parade; he had worn a red-caped cloak, a cocked hat and a great chain. “But I did not know one had mayors to dinner,” I said in
awe.
“It is a banquet,” said Willmouse certainly.
“It’s the Brass Instruments
rabbits do and the river seemed to be running in my ears. When his head went down again we retreated backwards through the bulrushes so fast that we were covered in bulrush dust. Then we ran. We
reached Joss’s box and I sank down on it while Hester fell on the grass. My neck and the backs of my knees were clammy and cold; her chin was shaking.
We sat there a long while without speaking and the sun did not make us any warmer.
At last, “Do you think it could be us . . . after the ices?” asked Hester.
“No.”
“It was another m . . .”
“Yes.”
“Then . . . ?” The question seemed to go on and on.
It was some time later that Hester said, “Hullo! Monsieur Joubert’s things have gone.” There was no umbrella, no easle or stool, and Joss’s box, alone on the river bank,
looked small and lonely.
The light grew deeper, swallows were beginning to skim the river as they did when the insects flew down; five o’clock struck from the Hôtel de Ville and we got up to go in. As we
reached the blue door it opened and Mademoiselle Zizi came out.
She was in white and carried a deep mauve sunshade, the colour of heliotrope. She was freshly powdered and made up and her scent came to us in waves. “Are you going out?” we asked
stupidly.
“Only to the cove, to meet Eliot.”
We looked at one another, opened our lips, and shut them.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” said Hester after she had gone.
“Why didn’t you?”
We did not go in but stayed in the orchard. We talked to Willmouse, admired Miss Dawn’s new hat, and played with the dogs. We did not say it to one another but we were waiting to see, and
after what seemed a long while the blue door opened again. Mademoiselle Zizi came through, and behind her was Eliot.
CHAPTER 13
A S SOON as we came into the house we knew that Madame Corbet had sent Mademoiselle Zizi to meet Eliot because she wanted her out of the way.
Madame Corbet was efficient; when anything had to be arranged at Les Oeillets, a dinner, two or three chars-à-bancs of tourists for luncheon or an early breakfast, it was made ready
quietly and swiftly. “But not if Mademoiselle Zizi is there,” said Hester. Mademoiselle Zizi gave contradictory orders to Mauricette, upset Monsieur Armand by suggesting last-minute
changes in the food, took Paul away from his work, and quarrelled with Madame Corbet. It was wiser to send Mademoiselle Zizi away and now the house was being quickly transformed; we could see it
was for a much bigger occasion than any since we had come.
“Is it a banquet ?” asked Willmouse.
The tables in the dining-room had been moved to make one large T, the whole covered with white cloths and laid with silver and glass. “Ninety-four places,” whispered Hester when she
had finished counting. The flowers were not being done as usual by Mauricette; Madame from l’Eglantine and her two Mademoiselles in green overalls were arranging them—carnations,
asparagus ferns and white flowers like small lilies on one stem; they had a strong, sweet smell. “Mauricette says they are tuber roses,” I said.
“I have heard of them,” said Willmouse gravely.
In the bar a platform had been made; we knew it was only of boxes, but, laid with a carpet and palms, it looked impressive. There were more flowers in the hall and bar, and a carpet had been put
down from the front door to the foot of the stairs, “Because the Sous-Préfet and Monsieur le Maire are coming,” said Vicky, who had joined us from the kitchen.
We had seen the Mayor of Southstone at the Armistice parade; he had worn a red-caped cloak, a cocked hat and a great chain. “But I did not know one had mayors to dinner,” I said in
awe.
“It is a banquet,” said Willmouse certainly.
“It’s the Brass Instruments
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