“I remember it like yesterday, Pierre,” exclaimed Amélie, sparkling at the reminiscence; “I recollect how I wept and wrung my hands, tired out, hungry, and forlorn, with my dress in tatters, and one shoe left in a miry place! I recollect, moreover, that my protectors were in almost as bad a plight as myself, yet they chivalrously carried the little maiden by turns, or together made a queen's chair for me with their locked hands, until we all broke down together and sat crying at the foot of a tree, reminding one another of the babes in the wood, and recounting stories of bears which had devoured lost naughty children in the forest. I remember how we all knelt down at last and recited our prayers until suddenly we heard the bugle-call of Aeolus sounding close by us. The poor old man, wild with rapture at having found us, kissed and shook us so violently that we almost wished ourselves lost in the forest again.”
The recollection of this adventure was very pleasing to Pierre. He recalled every incident of it perfectly, and all three of them seemed for a while transported back into the fairy-land of their happy childhood.
The bugle-call of old Aeolus again sounded, and the three friends rose and proceeded towards the house.
The little brook—it had never looked so bright before to Amélie—sparkled with joy like her own eyes. The orioles and blackbirds warbled in the bushes, and the insects which love warmth and sunshine chirmed and chirruped among the ferns and branches as Amélie, Pierre, and Le Gardeur walked home along the green footpath under the avenue of elms that led to the château.
The Lady de Tilly received them with many pleasant words. Leading them into the breakfast-room, she congratulated Le Gardeur upon the satisfaction it afforded her to see her dear children, so she called them, once more seated round her board in health and happiness. Amélie colored slightly, and looked at her aunt as if questioning whether she included Philibert among her children.
The Lady de Tilly guessed her thought, but pretending not to, bade Felix proceed with the breakfast, and turned the conversation to topics more general. “The Iroquois,” she said, “had left the Chaudière and gone further eastward; the news had just been brought in by messengers to the Seigniory, and it was probable, nay, certain that they would not be heard of again. Therefore Le Gardeur and Pierre Philibert were under no necessity of leaving the Manor to search for the savages, but could arrange with Amélie for as much enjoyment as they could crowd into these summer days.”
“It is all arranged, aunt!” replied Amélie. “We have held a cour plenière this morning, and made a code of laws for our Kingdom of Cocagne during the next eight days. It needs only the consent of our suzeraine lady to be at once acted upon.”
“And your suzeraine lady gives her consent without further questioning, Amélie! although I confess you have an admirable way of carrying your point, Amélie,” said her aunt, laughing; “you resolve first what you will do, and ask my approbation after.”
“Yes, aunt, that is our way in the kingdom of pleasure! And we begin this morning: Le Gardeur and Pierre will ride to the village to meet our cousin Héloise, from Lotbinière.”
“But you will accompany us, Amélie!” exclaimed Le Gardeur. “I will not go else,—it was a bargain!”