"Shall we see him again?"
"Of course. But you must not say so."
She inherited from her father, with his curiosity and high spirit, a definite confidence in the future.
The child was not wrong about her mother's summer plans. The Derize family generally left Paris from July until November, spending the summer and part of the autumn at Saint Martin, a village built on the side of the mountain of Chamrousse among the lime and chestnut trees, above the castle of Saint-Ferriol. They lived in the old family mansion which Albert had inherited. It was a large châlet with its beams set in stone; with verandahs all round it, and green shutters to its windows. An avenue of plane-trees led from the house to the church. Mme. Derize, senior, had a room there, so vacation time was the best of the year for her. Out of doors all day long, the children acquired complexions like the country folk; and their cheeks grew rosy like winter apples. Albert worked undisturbed on his "History of the Peasant" and listened to the soothing voices of Nature which sang themselves into his book. But sometimes when nightfall began to come earlier, Elizabeth found that this simple life was growing monotonous; from the heart of the valley came echoes of festivity, the animation of a happy little village; above all she feared the solitude which forces one to seek distraction and happiness within.
The Molay-Norrois rented a villa at Uriage, where they met a gathering of their acquaintances. When the heat made Grenoble unbearable, they easily persuaded their daughter to follow them.
"Why should you shut yourself up in that great lonely barn? What if your husband should take it into his head to return? Come with us—you will be much more at ease."
She had listened to them. In her husband's absence she was beginning to experience again emotions long since forgotten—fear and uneasiness. And the mere thought of the house at St. Martin with its long corridors, its suites of rooms and the monotonous silence of the country, depressed her.
Uriage, three or four miles from Grenoble, and 1500 feet above the sea, easy of access, and quite near the lowland, has at the same time a beautiful view and the invigorating air of the mountain. It is reached through a somewhat narrow and wooded ravine, at the end of which runs a peaceful streamlet—Le Sonnant. After a turn in the road there is a little hill crowned by the castle of Saint Ferriol with its ancient battlements (of which terraces have been made), its towers and its gables. Having encircled it, one finally comes into the valley of Vaulnaveys, where the bathing station is built. This valley of Vaulnaveys, very limited in extent, bounded by the Cross of Chamrousse and the mountain Les Quatre Seigneurs, has been compared to a vessel of which the bow might be the castle of Saint-Ferriol and the stern that of Vizille, doubly historic since it was rebuilt by Lesdiguières and occupied in 1789 by the Assembly of the States of Dauphiné. It resembles a little oasis of fresh verdure between the slopes of woods and prairies. Owing to the supply of water the grass there is as bright as in an English countryside. Here and there it has been mown to make a tennis court, walks, and even a race course.
The Villa Mélèzes which the Molay-Norrois rented for the season stands against the Chamrousse along the sloping road which leads from Uriage to the castle of Saint Ferriol, so that it commands a view of the valley. Pine trees at the back and rose trees in front seem in opposition the one to the other, as happens frequently in this little corner of the world; comparable, as it were, to those faces whose natural sweetness is at first concealed under a serious expression.
On an afternoon in July, Mme. Passerat's motor brought the guests of Mélèzes to their door. She occupied a neighboring villa, where she received the old Counsellor Prémereux (jestingly called her duenna), and the Vimelles; while the Bonnard-Bassons had taken a house a little below. These ladies made all sorts of plans, and Mme. Bonnard-Basson had already discovered on the list of visitors the names of several aristocrats whom she was eager to meet. Marie Louise declared at once that it was much prettier here than at Saint Martin; but little Philippe somewhat startled by the speed of the journey reserved his opinion. Elizabeth saw, above all, her opportunity for avoiding loneliness.