"Where is he?" asked Juliette, in a pleasant girlish voice. "Still at the gate? And say then, my father," this in low tones meant not to be overheard, "who is this monsieur?"
"He is the little boy," exclaimed the Pasteur, chuckling at his joke, "but you see he has grown in the train."
"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed Madame, "I wonder if his bed will be long enough?"
"It is very amusing," remarked Juliette.
Then they both descended from the verandah, to greet him with foreign cordiality which, as they spoke rapidly in French, was somewhat lost on G.o.dfrey. Recognizing their kind intentions, however, he took off his hat and bowed to each in turn, remarking as he did so:
"_Bonjour, oui. Oui, bonjour_," the only words in the Gallic tongue that occurred to him at the moment.
"I speek Engleesh," said Juliette, with solemn grandeur.
"I"m jolly glad to hear it," replied G.o.dfrey, "and I _parle Francais_, or soon shall, I hope."
Such was G.o.dfrey"s introduction to his new home at Kleindorf, where very soon he was happy enough. Notwithstanding his strange appearance and his awkwardness, Monsieur Boiset proved himself to be what is called "a dear old gentleman"; moreover, really learned, and this in sundry different directions. Thus, he was an excellent astronomer, and the possessor of a first-rate telescope, mounted in a little observatory, on a rocky peak of ground which rose up a hundred feet or more in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, that itself stood high. This instrument, which its owner had acquired secondhand at some sale, of course was not of the largest size. Still, it was powerful enough for all ordinary observations, and to show many hundreds of the heavenly bodies that are invisible to the naked eye, even in the clear air of Switzerland.
To G.o.dfrey, who had, it will be remembered, a strong liking for astronomy, it was a source of constant delight. What is more, it provided a link of common interest that soon ripened into friendship between himself and his odd old tutor, who had been obliged hitherto to pursue his astral researches in solitude, since to Madame and to Juliette these did not appeal. Night by night, especially after the winter snows began to fall, they would sit by the stove in the little observatory, gazing at the stars, making calculations, in which, notwithstanding his dislike of mathematics, G.o.dfrey soon became expert, and setting down the results of what they learned.
In was in course of these studies that the whole wonder of the universe came home to him for the first time. He looked upon the marvel of the heavens, the mighty procession of the planets, the rising and setting of the vast suns that burn beyond them in the depths of s.p.a.ce, weighing their bulk and measuring their differences, and trembled with mingled joy and awe. Were these the heritage of man? Would he ever visit them in some unknown state and age? Or must they remain eternally far and alien? This is what he longed to learn, and to him astronomy was a gateway to knowledge, if only he could discover how to pa.s.s the gate.
G.o.dfrey had not the true scientific spirit, or a yearning for information, even about the stars, for its own sake. He wanted to ascertain how these affected _him_ and the human race of which he was a member. In short, he sought an answer to the old question: Are we merely the sp.a.w.n of our little earth, destined to perish, as the earth itself must do one day, or, through whatever changes we must pa.s.s, are we as immortal as the universe and the Might that made it, whatever that may be? That was his problem, the same which perplexes every high and thinking soul, and at this impressionable period of his life it scarcely ever left him. There he would sit with brooding eyes and bent brow seeking the answer, but as yet finding none.
Once Juliette discovered him thus, having come to the observatory to tell him that his dinner had been waiting for half an hour, and for a while watched him unnoted with the little shaded lamp shining on his face. Instantly, in her quick fashion, she christened him, _Hibou_, and _Hibou_ or Owl, became his nickname in that establishment. Indeed, with his dark eyes and strongly marked features, wrapped in a contemplative calm such as the study of the stars engenders, in that gloom he did look something like an owl, however different may have been his appearance on other occasions.
"What are you thinking of, Monsieur G.o.dfrey?" she asked.
He came back to earth with a start.
"The stars and Man," he answered, colouring.
"_Mon Dieu!_" she exclaimed, "I think man is enough to study without the stars, which we shall never visit."
"How do you know that, Mademoiselle?"
"I know it because we are here and they are there, far, far away. Also we die and they go on for ever."
"What is s.p.a.ce, and what are death and time?" queried G.o.dfrey, with solemnity.
"_Mon Dieu!_" said Juliette again. "Come to dinner, the chicken it grows cold," but to herself she added, "He is an odd bird, this English _hibou_, but attractive--when he is not so grave."
Meanwhile G.o.dfrey continued to ponder his mighty problem. When he had mastered enough French in which Madame and Juliette proved efficient instructors, he propounded it to the old Pasteur, who clapped his hand upon a Bible, and said:
"_There_ is the answer, young friend."
"I know," replied G.o.dfrey, "but it does not quite satisfy; I feel that I must find that answer for myself."
Monsieur Boiset removed his blue spectacles and looked at him.
"Such searches are dangerous," he said. "Believe me, G.o.dfrey, it is better to accept."
"Then why do you find fault with the Roman Catholics, Monsieur?"
The question was like a match applied to a haystack. At once the Pasteur took fire:
"Because they accept error, not truth," he began. "What foundation have they for much of their belief? It is not here," and again he slapped the Bible.
Then followed a long tirade, for the one thing this good and tolerant old man could not endure was the Roman Catholic branch of the Christian Faith.
G.o.dfrey listened with patience, till at last the Pasteur, having burnt himself out, asked him if he were not convinced.
"I do not know," he replied. "These quarrels of the Churches and of the different faiths puzzle and tire me. I, too, Monsieur, believe in G.o.d and a future life, but I do not think it matters much by what road one travels to them, I mean so long as it is a road."
The Pasteur looked at him alarmed, and exclaimed:
"Surely you will not be a fish caught in the net which already I have observed that cunning and plausible cure trying to throw about you! Oh!
what then should I answer to your father?"
"Do not be frightened, Monsieur. I shall never become a Roman Catholic.
But all the same I think the Roman Catholics very good people, and that their faith is as well as another, at any rate for those who believe it."
Then he made an excuse to slip away, leaving the Pasteur puzzled.
"He is wrong," he said to himself, "most wrong, but all the same, let it be admitted that the boy has a big mind, and intelligent--yes, intelligent."
It is certain that those who search with sufficient earnestness end in finding something, though the discovered path may run in the wrong direction, or prove impa.s.sable, or wind through caverns, or along the edge of precipices, down which sooner or later the traveller falls, or lead at length to some _cul-de-sac_. The axiom was not varied in G.o.dfrey"s case, and the path he found was named--Miss Ogilvy.
On the first Sunday after his arrival at Kleindorf a fine carriage and pair drew up at the shrubbery gate, just as the family were returning from the morning service in the little church where the Pasteur ministered. Madame sighed when she saw it, for she would have loved dearly to possess such an equipage, as indeed, she had done at one period in her career, before an obscure series of circ.u.mstances led to her strange union with Monsieur Boiset.
"What beautiful horses," exclaimed Juliette, her hazel eyes sparkling.
"Oh! that tenth Commandment, who can keep it? And why should some people have fine horses and others not even a pony? _Ma mere_, why were you not able to keep that carriage of which you have spoken to me so often?"
Madame bit her lip, and with a whispered "hold your tongue," plunged into conversation about Miss Ogilvy. Then G.o.dfrey entered the carriage and was whirled away in style, looking like the prince in a fairy book, as Juliette remarked, while the Pasteur tried to explain to her how much happier she was without the temptation of such earthly vanities.
Miss Ogilvy"s house was a beautiful dwelling of its sort, standing in gardens of its own that ran down to the lake, and commanding fine views of all the glorious scenery which surrounds Lucerne. The rooms were large and lofty, with parquet floors, and in some of them were really good pictures that their owner had inherited, also collections of beautiful old French furniture. In short, it was a stately and refined abode, such as is sometimes to be found abroad in the possession of Americans or English people of wealth, who for their health"s sake or other reasons, make their homes upon the Continent.
On hearing the carriage arrive, Miss Ogilvy, who was dressed in a simple, but charming grey gown and, as G.o.dfrey noticed at once, wore round her neck the old Gnostic talisman which he had given her, came from a saloon to meet him in the large, square hall.
"I _am_ glad to see you, G.o.dfrey," she said in her soft, cultivated voice.
"So am I, Miss Ogilvy," he answered, with heartiness, "I mean to see you. But," he added, studying her, "you do not look very well."
She smiled rather pathetically, and said in a quick voice:
"No, I took a cold on that journey. You see I am rather an invalid, which is why I live here--while I do live--what they call _poitrinaire_."
G.o.dfrey shook his head, the word was beyond him.