And so he sailed to Guadaloupa, sold his cargo, made his inquiries, learned next to nothing, and then sailed home again to think it over and to decide what to do next. He returned to find Alaine lost, Pierre still absent, and no light anywhere to guide him. But true to his usual method of proceeding, he resolved to take time to think about what to do next, not counting Alaine lost to him till it were proved so, and not believing Pierre dead till he found out that there was no possibility of his being alive. Then he decided that the next thing to do was to make another trip and find Pierre, about whose movements he had further satisfied himself, and had evidence that he had shipped for Guadaloupa and had landed there. Before he should go Lendert determined that he would first see Michelle and Papa Louis to discover if they had anything to add to their first news of Alaine’s disappearance. Next he would see his mother, and then he would make his second trip, having a little more now to put into his next cargo. Having arranged this business, he set out for New Rochelle.
It was with some moderate excitement that Trynje Van der Deen ran up to the goede vrow De Vries one morning in May. Two Frenchmen were below asking shelter. Were they to be admitted? Might they not be spies? The lad, to be sure, had a pretty face and the man looked pleasant, and both were dressed rather oddly. Trynje was suspicious, and would the mistress of the house say what was to be done?
In all her breadth of petticoats the lady descended to the yard where stood the two wayfarers. The elder could speak no Dutch and knew but little English; the other could speak a little of both, and assured the goede vrow that they but wanted shelter and directions for reaching New York. “We are Huguenots,” was announced, “and have escaped many perils and have gone through many adventures.”
Madam De Vries looked the little figure over, and saw that the tanned, roughened hands were slender and the brown eyes wistful and full of intelligence.
“We are not beggars; we are but unfortunates who escape from our enemies,” said the lad, in broken English.
“Take them to Maria,” said Madam, turning to Trynje; “she can see that they are lodged and fed. When they are satisfied and are rested, fetch the boy to me.”
Trynje obeyed and cast many curious looks at the graceful lad, who ate heartily enough, but seemed ill at ease under the girl’s scrutiny. Yet he followed her willingly when summoned to return to the house.
Trynje ushered her charge into Madam’s presence, and stood waiting to hear what was to be said next. “You need not stay, Trynje,” said Madam. “Go and look after the looms for me like a good child.” Trynje smiled and obeyed. She rather liked this intimacy which the treatment of her as a daughter of the house implied.
Madam sat silent for a few moments after Trynje left, her eyes observing closely the figure before her. “I want a boy about the place,” she said in French. “Will you stay and work for me? My son is away, gone on some mysterious errand, and I am much alone. Were it not for my little friend who gives me her frequent presence, I should be left with only my servants. Can you read and write?”
“In French, yes. A little, also, in both Dutch and English.”