“Ah, my little mademoiselle! Ah, but it is good to see thee again. We have missed thee—ah, for example! my faith, it seemed to us all a year that thou hast been away. Thou art all pale, little cherished one! Tiens! thou regardest me with great eyes, as if I were a wolf! How, then! Thou art not glad to see Margoton?”
“I—I was startled!” faltered Honor. “I—didn’t know—dear Margoton, forgive me! but—have you come—”
She could not say it. She could smile through her tears on the kind giantess, could press her hand in genuine affection, but she could not speak.
Margoton replied with a shower of nods. But yes, assuredly, she was come for mademoiselle, to take her home; what else?
“Has the time seemed long to thee also, my little cabbage? Ah! Mademoiselle Stephanie, for example, has been a fountain of tears, desiring thee. A fête awaits thee là-bas—but—chut! that is not to tell. Gretli has been good to thee, yes? She is not all bad, our Gretli!”
The sisters beamed on each other affectionately.
“One does one’s possible!” said Gretli.
“She has been an angel,” cried Honor. “A perfect angel, Margoton! I never can tell—”
“Tiens!” said Gretli cheerfully. “The holy angels are probably less solid than I, Mademoiselle. For example! it would take a strong pair of wings to sustain me, is it not so? You are to tell my honored Ladies, sister, that M’lle Honor has been good as—bread, I do not say! galette could not be better. And the ankle—naturally it is not yet of like strength with the other, that comes slowly; but it marches, it marches. A little week or so more, and Mademoiselle will be running and leaping like—but like that evil-disposed Séraphine, whom behold yonder, annoying poor Nanni as of custom!”
Good Gretli! she had seen the tears in Honor’s eyes, had marked the tremor in her voice; she talked on easily, giving the child time to recover from the surprise. To leave the mountains, thought Gretli, even after a short week; naturally that rent the heart. Margoton had lived so long down there, she had forgotten—though never ceasing to love the mountains—how desolating it was to leave them. Ah, yes! and the little one had a mountain heart, that was to say a heart of gold.