The Secret of Toni

by Molly Elliot Seawell

“I know I am dirty,” he said, “but I don’t mind—I am no gentleman.”

Paul’s holidays were to end in September, and the Verneys, out of good-will to Captain Ravenel, and after much serious cogitation, invited Captain and Madame Ravenel to drink tea with them one afternoon in their garden. It was a small thing, apparently, this drinking tea with the advocate and his wife, who were neither rich nor important people in Bienville, but it meant the rehabilitation of the Ravenels. In these years of seclusion, both of them had grown timid, and Sophie rather shrank from appearing once more in that world in which she had shone so beautifully; but Ravenel, through the point of view of a man of sense, desired Sophie to go, and his will was law with her.

So, on the afternoon before Paul left, the Ravenels went over, and in the little arbor in the Verneys’ garden had tea together. Paul made one of the party, and also Toni, unseen by anybody except Paul. There was a hole in the hedge, which was close to the summer-house, and outside that hole Toni crouched. At one or two points in the banquet, which consisted of cakes and fruit as well as tea, Paul made excuses to pass the hedge, and every time he handed through the hole a cake or some fruit to Toni, and, what was the strangest thing in the world, Toni ate the cakes himself and put the fruit into a paper bag which he had brought for the purpose. The third and last time, when Paul surreptitiously handed a couple of figs through the hole, Toni held up the bag and whispered, “For Denise.” Paul nearly dropped with astonishment.

But this was not the only surprise of the afternoon. The summer-house was near the open iron gate of the garden, and as the grown people were sitting, quietly chatting and drinking their tea, Colonel Duquesne passed by, and, stopping in front of the gate, tried to light his cigar, but used up the last match in his match-box without being able to do it. Then Monsieur Verney, who was the soul of good-will and hospitality, taking from the table some of the matches Madame Verney used for her tea-kettle, walked to the gate and offered them to Colonel Duquesne. There was a breeze stirring, enough to make it difficult to light a cigar out of doors, and Monsieur Verney invited Colonel Duquesne to come into the summer-house. The colonel, looking in and seeing Madame Verney smiling and bowing, and the Ravenels sitting there, accepted Monsieur Verney’s invitation and went in. Walking up, he spoke gallantly to Madame Verney, and to Captain and Madame Ravenel, quite as if he knew nothing about that past which had wrecked their lives. He did more: when Madame Verney pressed him to accept a cup of tea, he sat down at the tea-table, and made himself most agreeable, addressing Captain Ravenel without effusion, but quite as an old comrade in arms.

Such a thing neither of the Ravenels had ever hoped or looked for, and the Verneys, who were the best-hearted people in the world, were delighted at the success of their invitation.

Colonel Duquesne sat for half an hour and, at last lighting his cigar, he departed. As he went down the street, he shook his gray head and said to himself:

“If I had a wife or a daughter, what a wigging I should get when I go home!”

“Had their last interview in the little cranny on the bridge.”

The next day, Paul was to go back to school, and early in the morning he and Toni had their last interview in the little cranny on the bridge. It was a beautiful, bright September morning, but both boys were rather low in spirits. No boy that ever lived, not even so excellent a one as Paul Verney, goes back to school with a light heart. But Paul made the best of it. Toni was depressed at the thought of being reduced again to the society of Hermann as the only person who could understand and reply to his talk; for although Jacques and the horses were equally as intelligent as Hermann, they were not so responsive.