The Curly-Haired Hen Part 3

American as he was, he was astounded and was soon convinced that there had been no exaggeration. This was indeed the curly-haired hen.

"Well, Madame, how much is it to be?--$1,000, $2,000, $4,000?

Can't you make up your mind?"

"No, sir, please don't insist. I do not want to part with dear Yollande," and Mother Etienne, distressed and trembling, covered her hen with caresses.

In vain the American urged. His eyes shone with the desire to include this marvel in his collection. He could do nothing, and was finally obliged to retreat.

"Night brings counsel, Madame. I will return tomorrow to visit you, and I hope you will then decide in my favour. Until tomorrow, then, Madame."

The gentleman bowed politely and got into his carriage. The equipage left the courtyard, turned onto the high road, and was lost in the distance in a cloud of golden dust.

CHAPTER VI

THE SEPARATION

Mother Etienne was much distressed. The unexpected appearance of this personage, the offer of this huge sum of money, were enough to excite a woman more worldly-wise than she. Germaine strove to persuade her mistress to accept the offer.

"But, my dear mistress, think of it--$4,000. It is a fortune.

Don't let it escape you. It is a chance which will never come again. Think how well Yollande will be cared for. He does not mean to eat her at that price. Think of a stew costing $4,000. No indeed, the gentleman will try to keep her well as long as possible. It will be to his interest not to hurt her. Be sure of it, she will be as well cared for as she is here, if not better."

Thus they talked all evening.

Mother Etienne, feverishly affectionate, looked at the hen lying as usual asleep in the chimney corner. She could not make up her mind to sell her sweet Cinderella. Her affection for Yollande had increased with the constant care she had needed during so many long months. Besides, the silky tresses curling like corkscrews, which Germaine had kept so smooth, had been a source of amus.e.m.e.nt, not only to the farm but to the whole neighbourhood.

That night Mother Etienne was much agitated in spite of the hot drink Germaine had given her. She was haunted by a horrible nightmare. She seemed to be lying on a bed of banknotes, whilst the Cochin-China, sitting heavily on her chest, reproached her bitterly for having handed her over to a stranger in exchange for a little filthy lucre. Mother Etienne, bathed in perspiration, seemed to suffocate under her sheets.

At last dawn came, the good woman rose, her heart still terribly oppressed. Germaine calmed her as best she could with rea.s.suring words and also with a foaming bowl of hot coffee.

All morning Mother Etienne endured torments.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when suddenly the sound of a heavy carriage drawn by four horses was heard in the courtyard.

Labric barked with all his might, Coco whinnied loudly, the three cows all mooed at the same time, and the entire poultry-yard in an uproar added its piercing and varied tones to the general tumult.

The pigs especially made a great noise.

It was the American's four-in-hand.

He was driving himself, and on his left sat a young and pretty woman, exquisitely dressed in white.

The newcomers were at once shown into the huge kitchen, which served also as a reception room. On the hearth burned a small bundle of scented herbs which filled the whole room with fragrance. Yollande was sitting in her usual place.

"Well, Madame, have you at last decided to let me have the curly-haired hen?"

Mother Etienne neither moved nor answered.

"See here, Madame, I offer you $4,000, $6,000, $8,000," and so saying he took from a red morocco pocketbook in banknotes the sums he mentioned, and spread them out on the table before the astonished eyes of Mother Etienne and Germaine.

Mother Etienne still shook her head in refusal.

Germaine, driven wild by this sight, began to exclaim: "Yes, sir,--yes, Madame. Yes, sir,--yes, Madame," and threw herself into the arms first of the American, and then of Mother Etienne, who still remained obdurate.

Miss Booum, taking Mother Etienne's hand, said coaxingly: "You can safely trust her to me. I will take care of her myself, Madame.

With us she will become famous throughout the world. All the newspapers will speak of her. From your poultry-yard she will come into contact with the greatest courts of the world. She will be petted by Grand d.u.c.h.esses, and receive hands. Besides all this she will be in good company and will have plenty to amuse her."

This pleading succeeded in dragging from Mother Etienne the longed-for "Yes," which, though stifled by emotion, was seized upon by the American.

The good woman had said "Yes," she had conquered the selfishness of a mother for two reasons. She did not want to prevent Yollande from getting on in the world, and also she wished to let Germaine share this fortune, for it was owing to her that the hen had become so valuable, and she did not think it right to deprive her of the benefit.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Miss Booum brings Mother Etienne to the circus tent.]

"That's all settled, then. Here's the contract," said the American, "you have only to sign it." And a receipt duly prepared was handed to Mother Etienne, who in a trembling hand appended her signature and a flourish. I don't know that she did not even embellish it with a huge blot of ink.

Then Miss Booum stooped and gently took under her arm Yollande, who oddly enough made no resistance.

"Oh please, please let me kiss her again," and, tears in her eyes, Mother Etienne tenderly embraced the Cochin-China.

"You will take great care of Yollande, won't you? You will send me news of her? Where is she to sleep to-night?"

"Oh, as to that, Madame, would you like to see the place prepared for her? Come with us. There is room in the carriage and I promise to have you brought back again at once. The camp is not far from here, the road is good, the horses fast, and in half an hour at most you will be perfectly rea.s.sured and can return with your mind at rest."

Mother Etienne, without further thought, still guided by her tender maternal heart, needed no urging, but followed by the two Americans, walked with a brisk, firm step towards the carriage.

Suddenly changing her mind, she said:

"Will you just let me change my dress? I can't very well go out like this."

She went to her room, an idea having entered her head, and soon returned very neatly dressed with a little basket in her hand.

The steps were adjusted and the three people took their places on top, whilst Yollande, wrapped in soft woollen covers, was carefully placed inside, in a basket provided for that very purpose.

When Germaine saw her mistress start off she would have liked to go with her, but the farm needed her attention. Besides, Miss Booum's promise of seats for the next performance quite consoled her.

The carriage made a curve in the yard, went through the gate, and soon disappeared, bearing the two new travellers. As Miss Booum had said, it did not take more than half an hour to reach the camp, the cobs went so quickly.

On the way Mother Etienne met many acquaintances to whom she waved a simple but cordial greeting. In most cases the carriage was already out of sight before they recovered sufficiently from their astonishment to wave back.

It was a nine days' wonder.

CHAPTER VII