Marie Josephine enjoyed her dance with Bertran. She wore the soft white silk brocade gown that had been made for her thirteenth birthday, and, like Hortense, she had fastened her curls with a comb, a large gilt one of her mother’s which she had borrowed. When they finished, Marie Josephine made Bertran a deep curtsy. She waited until the others were talking and then slipped out of the room. She drew the thick red silk shawl closely about her as she stepped out on to the terrace.
The moon was almost full, and its light seemed to bring out each leaf and twig of the great oak at the foot of the terrace steps with startling distinctness. As she stood there in the radiance of the moon, she thought she saw something move under the tree. Some one shrank back into the shadow and moved quickly into the deep underbrush. Marie Josephine waited. She knew that, if it really were any one, after he had gone through the shrubbery, she would see him cross the clearing that led to the forest. In a few moments she saw a woman pass rapidly through the clearing, making for the wood and going in the direction of the gates. The moonlight had fallen full upon her and there was something vaguely familiar about her figure. Marie Josephine stood looking after her. Why was that figure so familiar? Who could it be? Why had she been hiding there in the shadow as though she were spying?
Marie Josephine’s mind was so full of another thought that she did not dwell long on the apparition of the woman, whoever she might be, for more than a minute. Then she ran down the terrace steps and disappeared in the direction of Mother Barbette’s cottage. As she had guessed, Mother Barbette herself was not in the cottage. She had gone to one of the hovels to nurse a boy who had hurt his leg. Marie Josephine called softly:
“Jean!”
Jean was sitting on the stone doorstep, but she had not seen him in the shadow of the moon and tree branches. He jumped up and came running to her.
“I’ve only come for a minute, Jean. Let’s sit on the doorstep. Isn’t the moonlight wonderful? We’ve had so much fun in the moonlight every summer, haven’t we? We’ve been comrades, Jean, great friends!” Marie Josephine put out the back of her hand as she spoke, and Pince Nez, the crow, lighted on it with a croak.
“Pince Nez will be two years old in June. Do you remember when Dian rescued him and brought him to the sheepfold? I can just see him now, lying on the shelf with his funny beak open.” Marie Josephine stroked the crow gently, and Pince Nez winked impudently.
Jean was sitting in the shadow, and as Marie Josephine went on speaking, his eyes grew rounder and rounder!
“We must always remember what friends we have been and be happy about it. You will grow to be a fine man, Jean. I am sure of that. You must always help Grigge. Dian would wish you to.” Marie Josephine paused and sat silently looking off at the black outline of the wood.
Suddenly Jean jumped up and stood in front of her.