Little Jeanne of France Read online

  Margot's father had come back from the war. But though he had returnedto his dear ones, he would never again be able to walk. He would be aninvalid for life. So Margot's mother had two helpless ones to care for.And one of those was Margot's father.

  Grandmother had taken care of little Margot from the day of her birth.Starry-eyed Baby Margot was Grandmother Villard's charge--and a joyouscharge to the old lady. But despite the happiness of her Margot, theheart of Madame Villard yearned for that other wee one--her son's littleorphaned daughter.

  She waited longingly for Paul's child to be brought to her. She waiteduntil she could wait no longer. Then she went out in search of littleJeanne.

  Madame Villard traveled to many villages in her search. She even askedthe government to help her.

  She tried so hard to speed the little one's arrival. But she could not.The child was never brought to her.

  And now, to-day, a month having elapsed, Madame Villard was againpreparing to motor through the country to search. She intended to stopat a little graveyard in the Argonne (aer-g[=o]n') and pray.

  A UNIQUE OLD WINDMILL IN PICTURESQUE FRANCE]

  And while Madame Villard waited thus for little Jeanne, Suzanne Moreauwas bringing the baby to Paris.

  On the tramp Suzanne had found the child a sweet and tender thing.Little Jeanne had hardly ever cried. She was satisfied and sleepy, orgurgling and gay.

  Her life had been a rough one and her feedings irregular and sometimesinsufficient. Still the baby had seemed happy, and Suzanne had smiled agreat deal more than she had ever before smiled in her life.

  Before the march was over, little Jeanne was the only child Suzanne hadever kissed.

  For a long time after reaching Paris, Suzanne Moreau's only thought wasto tend this baby for whom she had promised to care.

  She expected to take the baby to the home where it belonged. But herfirst thought was to give the child a few days' good care and foodbefore giving her up.

  It was a thought which Suzanne would never have admitted was selfish.But the truth was that little Jeanne's baby fingers had so tenderlywound themselves about the heart of Suzanne Moreau that already thethought of parting with her was unbearable. A few days passed. Then aweek, and then more days.

  "I should. I should," sighed Suzanne, as she watched the little girlsucking contentedly on her bottle.

  Then when the bottle was emptied, Baby Jeanne lifted her two pink hands.

  In her arms Suzanne rocked the baby back and forth and murmured, "No,no, my little one, ma cherie (mae sh[)e]r-[=e]', which means "my dear" inFrench), I cannot give you up. Not yet."

  This went on for some time. At last one night Suzanne determined to goto that address on the Avenue Champs Elysees. She went alone. She leftthe child in the care of a woman with whom she boarded.

  Before the tall stone building, Suzanne stood and marveled. It seemed apalace to the little village dressmaker. How could she keep this childfrom a home like that? To-morrow, yes, to-morrow, she would take Jeanneto her rightful home.

  As she turned to leave, a big motor car drew up at the curb, and a blackfigure stepped out. Madame Villard had returned from anotherunsuccessful search. She was returning to her daughter and to littleMargot, discouraged, disappointed, and heart-sick.

  Little did she know that the slight figure turning the corner wasSuzanne Moreau. Little did she dream that this woman turning thecorner was hurrying back to her own grandchild, who slept in a poorlittle Paris boarding house.

  THE MARIE ANTOINETTE COTTAGE NEAR VERSAILLES PALACE]

  Suzanne began to arrange the few little clothes she had bought forJeanne. She made a bundle. Then she took from her drawer the locketwhich the child had worn about her neck. She opened it.

  Paul's face seemed to be smiling at her. Often before she had openedthis locket, but never had the soldier face seemed so happy as now.Suzanne knew why. It was because she was going to take Jeanne to herplace--her rightful home.

  Her heart was fluttering and her hands were shaking as she put thelocket about the child's neck. Then she sat by the little cradle. Beforeshe knew it, the tears were falling down her cheeks.

  Why did she care this way? Suzanne asked herself. She had lived alonefor many years. For many years she had had nothing to love. Why couldshe not go on?

  Why must this tiny bit of life, sleeping so sweetly before her, make allthis difference and make her cry?

  Jeanne stirred. The little pink hands went up. It was a gesture Suzannehad come to love, to wait for, to thrill at. Slowly she raised Jeannefrom the cradle and held her.

  The baby's hands gently touched her cheeks. One little hand was pattinga wet, wet cheek.

  Then it stopped, and a soft head slowly sank upon Suzanne's breast.Jeanne was asleep.

  Suzanne sat staring ahead of her. The baby had made a decision forSuzanne.

  Cruelly and unfairly, in her mind Suzanne blamed little Jeanne for thedecision she made that night. But her torn heart could not have stoodthe blame. She knew and felt only one thing.

  To the sleeping child she cried, "I cannot, cannot give you up, mylittle Jeanne. Never, never!"

  The locket with the soldier's picture was put away under lock and key.And Madame Villard continued to wait for her grandchild.

  CHAPTER VI

  JEANNE

  Jeanne grew under the loving and tender care of Suzanne. Never once didSuzanne approach the stately apartment house on the Avenue ChampsElysees. Never once did she allow Jeanne to go in that direction.

  JEANNE]

  Several years passed. Jeanne was now a tall girl. But still Auntie Suehad a terrible feeling about that apartment house.

  Suzanne was still known as Auntie Sue. And between the poor littledressmaker and Jeanne, Auntie Sue's Shop had grown up in Paris.

  Paris, you know, is the place from which your mother's or auntie's orgrandmother's most fashionable clothes come. Nearly everyone who visitsParis buys a Parisian gown.

  The French are well dressed. The French dressmakers know well how to cutand fit and sew.

  Then, too, when little ones go to Paris with their mothers, they, too,are fitted with dresses and hats and coats made by the Parisiandressmakers.

  Auntie Sue fitted many, many children. She fitted children who lived inParis, also children who came from America and Spain and Italy andGermany and from other parts of the world.

  For Auntie Sue's Shop was well known. It was known because, for onething, Auntie Sue was clever and could make beautiful children'sclothes.

  THE WINDOW OF AUNTIE SUE'S SHOP IN PARIS]

  It was known for another reason, and perhaps a better one. That reasonwas Jeanne!

  Jeanne put on all of Auntie's little models. She showed them to thepeople who came to buy clothes for their children.

  Jeanne walked about the pretty little room, with its dainty show-casesand Parisian dolls and model coats and hats. She walked about the roomand wore the clothes that Auntie Sue had made.

  And when the children's mothers came to buy, they said, "Isn't that abeautiful little coat?" or, "Doesn't she look sweet in that littledress?"

  Jeanne always looked sweet and pretty in everything she wore. Jeannewalked very straight and held her head high and smiled at all thepeople. She seemed to belong in those clothes.

  So every mother thought that her child would look as well as Jeannelooked. Of course some of them did, but not all. Jeanne was knownthroughout Paris--throughout "child-and-mother-Paris"--as the "LittleModel."

  You may think that she became haughty and proud because so many peopleknew about her and came to watch her. But this was not the case at all.

  Jeanne never thought of things like that. She was too busy ever to thinkof such things. While she loved to help Auntie Sue, it was hard work,and often Auntie Sue worried.

  "Ma cherie," she would say to Jeanne as she stroked her silky browncurls, "you are happy; are you not? You do not mind the work--the hard,hard work? Ah, Jeanne, it is not pleasant sometimes, I know."r />
  And this was true. For when many, many mothers and children came, Jeannehad to walk back and forth, back and forth, through the room. She had toshow the silken dresses, the velvet coats, the little fluffy bonnetsand hats. And she always had to smile and answer people's questions tothe tune of that smile.

  Then when changing behind the screen in Auntie's tiny dressing room, shehad to be careful with the clothes--very careful. If lace should tear ora frock become soiled, Auntie would not be able to sell it. It was acareful little girl who changed behind that screen.

  SHE HAD TO BE CAREFUL WITH THE CLOTHES]

  But Jeanne would always answer Auntie as she smiled into her worriedeyes, "No, no, dear Auntie Sue. Never am I sad. Never do I mind thework. It is play, you know. All the other little children envy me!"

  This also was true. Many children did think what fun it would be to wearall those lovely clothes and step about that gay little shop.

  Some even went home and tried to imitate Jeanne. They thought it wasfun. They did not know it was hard, hard work.

  Jeanne answered Auntie Sue this way and really meant what she said.

  Still Jeanne often wished for the days to be much longer. Jeanne wantedto play.

  It was all right for those other children to play at being Jeanne. Butreally to be Jeanne was not play!

  When those other children wearied of their game of being Jeanne theystopped. Jeanne could never stop. And there was never any time leftfor her to play.

  Auntie Sue often noticed that Jeanne's eyes held a wistful look. AuntieSue mistook that wistfulness and thought Jeanne was longing to possessthe beautiful clothes she showed.

  She thought that Jeanne was sad because, each day, she would have totake off those lovely clothes and put on her own simple little dresses.

  It was only natural for Auntie to suppose this because Jeanne loved andcaressed each new garment that Auntie made. She seemed always so happyto put them on.

  But here is a secret: Jeanne never once thought about those clothesafter she took them off. She liked her little gingham dresses just aswell.

  In fact, Jeanne would not have cared one bit what she wore, if only shecould have played. Auntie Sue did not know that.

  CHAPTER VII

  MAJOR d'ARTROT

  One morning Major d'Artrot (daer-tr[=o]) received a letter from an oldfriend. It was a good friend: Madame Villard. Madame Villard wrote thatshe expected to spend a night at the Major's inn.

  A tiny tumbled farm was Major d'Artrot's Inn. Before the war it had beenhis fine and prosperous home. But the Major had been obliged to turn hishome into a hotel. For the war had made him a poor man.

  Fighting and scenes of horror had taken place on that peaceful farm. Ithad been occupied by the Germans. Later a terrible battle, one of thefamous battles of the Argonne, had been fought there.

  THE BLOODY TREE]

  In the Major's garden stands the "Bloody Tree." The name is enough totell what happened beneath its tall branches. A pole with wires stillstands outside the Major's house. It is a telegraph pole raised by theAmerican soldiers during the war. When the war was over, people came tosee the Major's farm. People were curious, interested. There was thecellar where some poor souls had lived for weeks, listening to thebooming of the battles in the woods near-by.

  AMERICAN TELEGRAPH WIRES IN THE MAJOR'S GARDEN]

  There were the German helmets captured during that last battle. Therewere many, many reasons why travelers were drawn to Major d'Artrot'sfarm. So Major d'Artrot turned his house into a hotel. One of hisdearest friends was Madame Villard. She had helped make life easier forthe Major and for his little brood.

  During the long years following the death of her son, the Major hadtried to help the stricken mother in her search for her lostgranddaughter.

  He had at last gathered for her the information that on that famousmarch an old peasant had been seen with a baby. Some one had seen him.But he had fallen on the weary march. They knew that.

  But they did not know about the baby. Nobody could tell Madame Villardwhat had happened to the baby.

  To-day the Major received Madame Villard's letter.

  "Poor Madame!" he sighed, as he finished reading. "She does not give uphope, even through all these years."

  And he thought of the little black figure which soon would step from thebig, glossy car. She would take what comfort this poor family couldprovide. She would make happy the Major's children with gifts and toys.Her simple room would be generously paid for.

  Then Madame would leave them, and to the near-by cemetery she would go.She would visit it, before starting the journey homeward to Paris and toher little Margot. Usually these visits of Madame Villard occurred aftera tour of the country. Those tours took her into very many villages ofFrance, and always for the same purpose--always for a possible sign, atiny clue of her lost grandchild.

  "Madame is here," called the Major's youngest. "The big bright car isoutside. See! Madame is coming in."

  A flock of eager youngsters gathered about the little lady. She kissedthem all and then sat down in the coolness of the Major's hallway.

  "I have traveled far," she told the Major, after they were settledcomfortably. The Major's children were outside in their arbor openingwonderful packages.

  The Major's children were not starved for play. True, Madame Villardwas the only one who gave them shop toys. But their playthings were thebrooks of the forest, the little farm animals, and sticks and stones.

  MAJOR d'ARTROT AND HIS FAMILY]

  Happy little d'Artrots! The Major did not worry because they were sopoor. They had plenty of time for play.

  "Through Verdun (v[)e]r-d[)u]n') and Reims (r[=e]mz) and the valley ofthe Meuse (m[=u]z) I have traveled, dear Major d'Artrot," said MadameVillard. "My travels have now become a habit. There is surely no morehope. But on and on I go."

  REIMS CATHEDRAL]

  Major d'Artrot took her hand. "You must not say that, dear Madame," heanswered. "There is always hope. And remember what joy you bring withyour visits to us. We are always so glad to see you."

  Madame thanked the Major and smiled.

  "You are kind," she said. "I am always happy here with you and withyour little dear ones. But this time my visit is to be short. I mustleave for Paris to-morrow."

  "So soon? That is a pity," the Major said.

  "No," smiled Madame Villard. "My little Margot's birthday is comingsoon. I have promised to return and see to a very important part of hercelebration."

  Madame Villard's eyes were now twinkling. "Can you guess what that veryimportant part might be for a young miss and her birthday?"

  "No, I am afraid I do not know," the Major said.

  "Well, dear Major, the young miss is to have a party frock whichGrandmother will give her. Now do you admit that is a most importantpart of any young lady's birthday celebration?"

  "Yes," laughed Major d'Artrot, "very important and serious!"

  Then Major d'Artrot pulled a little card out of his pocket and showed itto Madame.

  "And since Mademoiselle (m[.a]d-mw[.a]-z[)e]l') Margot is to have abeautiful frock," he said, "why do you not take her to this old friendof mine who makes some of the loveliest frocks in Paris?"

  Madame Villard read the card and then looked up at the Majorquestioningly.

  VERDUN]

  He continued, "Suzanne Moreau lived in the village adjoining my farmbefore that village was destroyed by the enemy. She was a demure littledressmaker, and we knew her, my wife and I, as a kindly and lonely soul.Now as you see by this card, she has established a fashionablechildren's shop in your Paris. She is still a kindly, modest littlewoman. Her whole life is centered in that small niece of hers, Jeanne,who is called the 'Little Model.' Have you, perhaps, heard of her?"

  THE MEUSE]

  Madame Villard nodded and looked again at the card.

  "Auntie Sue's Shop," she read.

  "Yes, indeed," she answered, "I have heard. But Margot and I have neverbeen to the shop. N
ow since I know that they are friends of yours, wewill surely go."

  "Ah, you are kind," said the Major. "Auntie Sue deserves what little onecan do to help. She is struggling alone and works very hard. I assureyou, dear Madame Villard, that she is a most deserving and honestperson."

  "I believe that," smiled Madame, patting the Major's hand. "For to be afriend of yours, one is obliged to be deserving, honest, and kind."

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE GUIGNOL

  Auntie Sue watched Jeanne as she skipped along to school. There couldnot possibly have been a happier skip. There could not possibly havebeen a happier little face than the one Auntie Sue had just kissed.

  But yet as Jeanne turned the corner, Auntie Sue felt something sadinside of her.

  Something said to her, "She is not really happy. Other children arehappy, but Jeanne is not a child. She is a puppet--a puppet."

  Suzanne rushed into the shop and tried to shut out those thoughts. AndJeanne skipped along to school.

  Strange to say, Jeanne was thinking of puppets, too. But she was notthinking of them in the same way as was Auntie Sue.

  She was thinking of the puppet show in the park. This puppet show iscalled a Guignol (g[=e]n'-y[=o]l) in France and the park where it isplayed is the Champs Elysees.

  On nearly every corner of this beautiful park is a Guignol. Where thereis no Guignol, there is a swing, or there are donkeys to ride or goatcarts. Children are amused in Paris.