Part 11 (1/2)

It seemed to her that if Alice wanted to run away, she had better do it as well as possible, for the girl was wilful enough to try to carry out any wild plan she might conceive. Barbara thought of many things, but they all seemed silly or impossible, and finally got no further than making up her mind to meet Alice again at the bath-house.

The events of the afternoon, moreover, put her countrywoman out of her head for the time being, for she found what she had been longing for ever since she came--a riding-master.

Mademoiselle Therese had long talked of taking her across the bay to Dinard, to visit some friends there, but hitherto no suitable occasion had been found. The delights of a boot and shoe sale, of which mademoiselle had received notice, reminded her of her intentions of showing Barbara ”that famous seaside resort,” and after an early lunch they set out for Dinard.

”Business first,” mademoiselle said on landing; ”we will hasten to the sale, and when I have made my purchases we will stroll into the park, and then visit my friend.”

”If you don't mind I will stay outside and watch the people,” Barbara proposed, on reaching the shop and seeing the crowds inside. ”I won't stray from just near the window, so you may leave me quite safely--and it looks so hot in there.”

Her companion demurred for a moment, but finally agreed, and Barbara with relief turned round to watch the people pa.s.sing to and fro.

Dinard seemed very gay and fas.h.i.+onable, she thought, and there was quite a number of English and Americans there. Surely in such a place one might find a riding-school. There was a row of _fiacres_ quite close to the pavement, and, seized by this new idea, she hurried up to one of the drivers and asked him if he knew of any horses to be hired in the town.

She had feared her French might not be equal to the explanation, and was very glad when he understood, and still more pleased to hear that there was an excellent _manege_,[1] which many people visited. After inquiring the name of the street, she returned to her shop window, longing for mademoiselle to come out. Her patience was nearly exhausted when that lady finally appeared, having bought nothing.

”I tried on a great many boots and some shoes,” she explained, ”and did not care for any. Indeed, I really did not need new ones; but I have seen samples of much of their stock.”

In the midst of the intense satisfaction of this performance, the girl brought her news of a riding-school, which evidently was not very welcome to her companion. She had, as a matter of fact, known of the existence of such a place, but did not approve of ”equestrian exercise for women ”; moreover, she had pictured so much exertion to herself in connection with the idea of riding lessons, that she had been very undesirous of Barbara's beginning them, and had, therefore, not encouraged the idea. But the secret of the school being out, she resolved to make the best of it, and agreed to go round at once and see the place.

They had little difficulty in finding it, and were ushered into an office, where a very immaculate Frenchman received them, and inquired how he could serve them. On hearing their errand he smiled still more pleasantly, and in a few minutes everything was settled. Barbara was to come over twice a week and have lessons, and, if she cared, might begin that afternoon. The only drawback was that she had no skirt, which, he a.s.sured her with a sweeping bow, he could easily remedy, for he had an almost new one on the premises, and would think it an honour to lend it to her.

He was politeness itself, and seemed not in the least damped by Mademoiselle Therese's evident gloom. He conducted her up to the gallery at one end of the school, and explained that she could watch every movement from that vantage-point.

”It will be almost as good as having a lesson yourself, madame,” he said politely, twirling his fierce gray mustachios.

At the other end of the school was a large looking-gla.s.s, which he told Barbara was to enable the pupils to observe their deportment; but she noticed that he always stood in the middle of the ring, where he watched his own actions with great pleasure.

The girl thought it a little dull at first, for she had been given an amiable old horse who knew the words of command so well that the reins were almost useless, and who ambled along in a slow and peaceful manner. But Monsieur Pirenne was entirely satisfied with his pupil, and he a.s.sured her, ”if she continued to make such stupendous progress in the next lesson, he would have the felicity of taking her out in the following one.”

At this Mademoiselle Therese shook her head pensively.

”Then I must take a carriage and follow you,” she said.

Barbara laughed.

”Oh, dear, mademoiselle, do think how impossible that would be,” she explained, seeing the lady looked somewhat offended. ”If we took to the fields how could you follow us in a carriage? No; just think how nice it will be to see so much of your friend while I am out.”

This view of the case somewhat reconciled Mademoiselle Therese to the idea, though her contentment vanished when she found that the wind had increased considerably during the afternoon, and that the mouth of the river was beginning to look a little disturbed.

They stood on the end of the quay, waiting the arrival of the steamboat, and mademoiselle shook her head gloomily.

”It is not that I am a bad sailor, you know,” she explained; ”but, when there is much movement, it affects my nerves and makes me feel faint.”

Barbara looked steadfastly out to sea. She did not want to hurt Mademoiselle Therese's feelings by openly showing her amus.e.m.e.nt.

”It is very unpleasant to have such delicate nerves,” her companion continued; ”but I was ever thus--from a child.”

”But at this time of year we shall not often have a stormy pa.s.sage,”

comforted Barbara.