Five Little Peppers Abroad Part 47

"Well, you'll stare worse than ever now," said Adela, in an important way. "There isn't anything in all this world that isn't in Paris," she brought up, not very elegantly.

"I don't like Paris." Tom let the words out before he thought.

"That's just because you are a boy," sniffed Adela. "Oh, Polly, you ought to see the shops! When Mademoiselle has taken us into some, I declare I could stay all day in one. Such dreams of clothes and bonnets! You never saw such bonnets, Polly Pepper, in all your life!"

She lifted her hands, unable to find words enough.

"And the parks and gardens, I suppose, are perfectly lovely," cried Polly, feeling as if she must get away from the bonnets and clothes.

"Yes, and the Bois de Boulogne to drive in, that's elegant. Only Mademoiselle won't take us there very often. I wish I was rich, and I'd have a span of long-tailed, grey horses, and drive up and down there every day."

Polly laughed. "Well, I should like the tram-ways and the stages," said Polly.

"Oh, those don't go into the Bois de Boulogne," cried Adela, in a tone of horror. "Why, Polly Pepper, what are you thinking of?" she exclaimed.

This nettled Tom. "Of something besides clothes and bonnets," he broke out. Then he was sorry he had spoken.

"Well, there's the Louvre," said Polly, after an uncomfortable little pause.

"Yes," said Adela, "that's best of all, and it doesn't cost anything; so Mademoiselle takes us there very often."

"I should think it would be," cried Polly, beaming at her, and answering the first part of Adela's sentence. "Oh, Adela, I do so long to see it."

"And you can't go there too often, Polly," said Jasper.

"It's the only decent thing in Paris," said Tom, "that I like, I mean; that, and to sail up and down on the Seine."

"We'll go there the first day, Polly," said Jasper, "the Louvre, I mean. Well, here we are in Paris!" And then it was all confusion, for the guards were throwing open the doors to the compartments, and streams of people were meeting on the platform, in what seemed to be inextricable confusion amid a babel of sounds. And it wasn't until Polly was driving up in the big cab with her part of Mr. King's "family," as he called it, through the broad avenues and boulevards, interspersed with occasional squares and gardens, and the beautiful bridges here and there across the Seine, gleaming in the suns.h.i.+ne, that she could realise that they were actually in Paris.

And the next day they did go to the Louvre. And Adela, who was to stay a day or two at the hotel with them before going back into her school, was very important, indeed. And she piloted them about, the parson and Mrs. Henderson joining their group; the others, with the exception of the little Widow Gray, who stayed at home to look over Adela's clothes, and take any last st.i.tches, going off by themselves.

"I do want to see the Venus de Milo," said Polly, quite gone with impatience. "Oh, Adela, these paintings will wait."

"Well, that old statue will wait, too," cried Adela, pulling her off into another gallery. "Now, Polly, Mademoiselle says, in point of art, the pictures in here are quite important."

"Are they?" said poor Polly, listlessly.

"Yes, they are," said Adela, twitching her sleeve, "and Mademoiselle brings us in this room every single time we come to the Louvre."

"It's the early French school, you know," she brought up glibly.

"Well, it's too early for us to take it in," said Tom. "Come, I'm for the Venus de Milo. It's this way;" and Adela was forced to follow, which she did in a discontented fas.h.i.+on.

"Oh!" cried Polly, catching her breath, and standing quite still as she caught sight of the wonderful marble, instinct with life, at the end of the long corridor below stairs. "Why, she's smiling at us," as the afternoon suns.h.i.+ne streamed across the lovely face, to lose itself in the folds of the crimson curtain in the background.

The parson folded his arms and drew in long breaths of delight. "It's worth fifty journeys over the ocean to once see that, Sarah," he said.

"Do come back and look at the pictures," begged Adela, pulling Polly's arm again after a minute or two.

"Oh, don't!" exclaimed Polly, under her breath. "Oh, she's _so_ beautiful, Adela!"

"Well, it's much better to see the pictures," said Adela. "And then we can come here again to-morrow."

"Oh, I haven't seen this half enough," began Polly, "and I've wanted to for so long." Then she glanced at Adela's face. "Well, all right," she said, and turned off, to come directly into the path of Grandpapa, with Phronsie clinging to his hand, and the rest of his part of the "family"

standing in silent admiration.

"We thought we'd come here first," said old Mr. King. "I don't mean to see anything else to-day. The Venus de Milo is quite enough for me.

To-morrow, now, we'll drop in again, and look at some of the pictures."

"There is beauty enough in that statue," said a lady, who just pa.s.sed them, to the gentleman with her, "to satisfy any one; but living beauty after all is most appealing. Just look at that child's face, Edward."

They were guilty of standing in a niche at a little remove, and studying Phronsie with keen, critical eyes.

"It's a wonderful type of beauty," said Edward; "yellow hair and brown eyes,--and such features."

"I don't care about the features," said the lady, "it's the expression; the child hasn't a thought of herself, and that's wonderful to begin with."

"That's about it," replied Edward, "and I suppose that's largely where the beauty lies, Evelyn."

"Let us walk slowly down the corridor again," said Evelyn, "and then come up; otherwise we shall attract attention to be standing here and gazing at them."

"And I'd like to see that little beauty again," remarked Edward, "I'll confess, Evelyn."

So Evelyn and Edward continued to gaze at intervals at the living beauty, and Mr. King and his party were absorbed in the marble beauty; and Adela was running over in her mind how she meant to have Polly Pepper all to herself at the visit to the Louvre the next afternoon, when she would show her the pictures she specially liked.

But they didn't any of them go to the Louvre that next day, as it happened. It was so beautifully bright and suns.h.i.+ny, that Grandpapa said it would be wicked to pa.s.s the day indoors; so they had all the morning in a walk, and a sail on the Seine,--and that pleased Tom,--and all the afternoon, or nearly all, sitting up in state in carriages, driving up and down the Bois de Boulogne. And _that_ pleased Adela.

And when they tired of driving, old Mr. King gave orders for the drivers to rest their horses. And then they all got out of the carriages, and walked about among the beautiful trees, and on the winding, sheltered paths.

"It's perfectly lovely off there," said Polly, "and almost like the country," with a longing glance off into the green, cool shade beyond.

So they strolled off there, separating into little groups; Polly and Jasper in front, and wis.h.i.+ng for nothing so much as a race.

"I should think we might try it," said Jasper; "there is no one near to see. Come on, Polly, do."

"I suppose we ought not to," said Polly, with a sigh, as Adela overtook them.

"Ought not to what?" she asked eagerly.

"Jasper and I were wanting to run a race," said Polly.

"Why, Polly Pepper! You are in Paris!" exclaimed Adela, quite shocked.

"I know it," said Polly, "and I wish we weren't. O dear! this seems just like the country, and--"

Just then a child screamed. "That's Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly, her cheek turning quite white. And she sped back over the path.

"Oh, no, Polly," Jasper tried to rea.s.sure her, as he ran after her.

They were having their race, after all, but in a different way from what they had planned.