# Jacquetta/Chapter XV

One beautiful evening on the Loire. At the entrance to the grounds of the Chateau de Plaissac a triumphal arch has been erected, covered with laurels, and green birch boughs, with paper flowers and streamers of coloured ribbons. Ranged outside are the children of the parish in their best dresses, with flowers in their hands and hats; their dark eyes twinkling and their little red tongues chattering. The curé is sometimes with them, then striding away to the house to see if all is well there. Yes—there all is well. The furniture has been brought down from the garret, the pictures, lustres, mirrors, curtains re-hung. The drive has been weeded, at last. The ladies are in the entrance-hall, burning with impatience.
‘Has he grown much, I wonder?’ asks the dowager.
‘Will he know us again, Josephine?’ asks mademoiselle.
‘She must be good—very good, or she could not have given to the world such a boy. It says so in the gospel. The curé read me the passage—“Grapes do not come of thorns, nor figs of thistles.”’
‘It is very true. And she is good.’
‘I don’t believe such a boy could have been had without her.’
‘Hark! I think I hear carriage wheels.’
‘Silence, Celestine. It is the step of Coquillicot.’
‘Ah! what a pity the victoria could not meet the diligence.’
‘What! that carriage, that pair, in that harness, driven by Jean! Impossible! The English coachman returns with them.’
Then as the yellow-bodied carriage became visible, approaching the triumphal arch, with the ambling Coquillicot going before, and Jean on the box without his gloves, leaning forward persuasively holding the reins in both hands, the cure waves his great shovel-hat, and shouts to the children—‘Allons! mes enfants. Heep!’
A faint response from the children. ‘Heep!’ Their eyes are on the carriage, their attention also.
‘Allons! encore! plus fort! Heep!’
A still gentler response.
Allons! mes enfants! Comme un coup de tonnerre llourah!’
‘Ah! Mme. la Baronne! Bon jour Mme. la Baronne!’ from all the little boys. ‘Ah! le bébé! le bébé!’ from all the little girls, and a thrust of little brown hands into the carriage with posies picked from every garden in the village. The Hourah! was unuttered, though it had been diligently rehearsed.
The carriage drew up at the door, and there, on the steps, uttering exclamations of joy, and salutation, and love, and admiration, were Mme. la Baronne—the dowager, Mdlle. de Pleurans, Miss Pengelly, and Mdlle. Gracieuse. No wonder they exclaimed. Jacquetta sat in the carriage holding up the petit policon, above her head.
‘How he is grown!’ ‘He is like a rose! like la Douairière!’ ‘Mon Dieu! he laughs!’ Let us see his tooth!’
But before the tooth is looked at, the sparkling, proud, delighted mother is hugged to the hearts of three old women, the mother-in-law, Aunt Celestine, and Aunt Betsy, while the little hunchback is dragging at her gown to get hold of her hand and cover it with kisses.
What is this?
Outside the window on the terrace are ranged the children in a semicircle, the boys on one side and the girls on the other, and the curé stands in the middle with his hat raised. Down it goes, and at once a strain is sung, familiar to Jacquetta, yes—surely familiar, but united to very funny words or to very funny rendering of words—
   ‘Coat shave de gracieusse Kveene,
    Longue leefe de glorieusse Kveene
    Goat shave de Kveene! ’
Where was Alphonse? Actually forgotten in the excitement of welcome accorded to the young mother and the glorious boy. Now he made himself conspicuous by rushing forth on the steps and saying: ‘M. le Curé, my children! Mme. la Baronne and I and the young Baron Joe—that is, Joseph Marie Celeste Victor—thank you with all our hearts for the honour you have accorded us, and we beg that you will wait and all partake of some cake and wine which Jean will bring to you when he has unharnessed Coquillicot.’
‘You have heard that, my children!’ exclaimed the curé, ‘and now then, all attention, eyes in front, on my hat, all ready? Once more, Heep! Heep! Hourah!’
This time the children responded, effectually, uproariously.
THE END