CHAPTER XIX

ALAIN'S TUTOR

IT was three months later.

Life in the little French village to Adrienne was entirely delightful. She was a good housewife, and though since her aunt's time the household had been augmented by more maids and one extra outdoor man, she still found plenty to employ her time. She rode with her husband very often, helped him in his farming, superintended the Château gardens, and looked well after the needs of the peasants in the village. She never neglected Agatha, and would always come away from a visit and talk with her, the stronger in her faith and love in her Lord and Master. She had a certain amount of social obligations, for the neighbourhood had a great liking and respect for her husband, and they were friendly with all. But neither of them cared for Bridge-playing, and there were only quiet dinner parties, or garden parties in the summer by way of entertainment.

Monsieur Dragominsk had quite made himself at home, and he and Alain seemed always happy together.

Alain was strangely reticent about his lessons. Sometimes Adrienne tried to discover what tutor and pupil talked about when they were out, walking or riding together.

Alain would say:

"Oh, we talk. He tells me about Russia, and lots of stories."

And Adrienne had to leave it at that.

Monsieur Dragominsk was very sociably inclined. He soon knew all the peasants and farmers round and would spend his evenings at the village inn discussing world-wide topics of interest. He had the power of impressing and interesting all who listened to him. The only one who did not seem to fall under his sway was Agatha. They only had one interview, and that was a short one. Monsieur Dragominsk would never go near her again.

"A patient little invalid," he would say, "but full of hysterical fancies and nerves. She looks upon herself as a saint, and tries to live up to the pose. But there's an artificiality about her to my mind."

He said this in the village inn. The speech was much resented, but no one seemed able to be angry with the young man, he was so full of smiles and warning persuasion.

When Adrienne questioned Agatha about his visit, she was silent for quite five minutes. The happy light died out of her face. Then she looked at Adrienne with grave steady eyes.

"I wish sometimes I did not see so far into people's souls, Madame."

"But you always seem to find a lot of good in them, Agatha, don't you, even in our village scapegraces?"

Agatha did not smile.

"Madame, time will show. He is a stranger in thought, as well as nationality."

"What does he think?" said Adrienne. "I wish I knew, he always agrees instantly with what the Count and I say, but sometimes there is a look in his eyes that belies his words."

Agatha was silent. She would say no more. Adrienne had never heard her say an unkind word of anyone. She always seemed to find good traits in all. So that her silent attitude towards the young Russian brought back Adrienne's first feelings of disquietude.

But when she went back to the Château, and met him again, his pleasant manners and smiling face reassured her. Children were good judges, she told herself, of a person's sincerity and truth, and Alain seemed happy and content when with him.

Monsieur Dragominsk spent his off time in Orleans. He had a motor-cycle, and would often spend his evenings there, returning very late at night. Adrienne tried hard to be friendly towards him, but he seemed to her never entirely at ease in her company.

One evening she asked him to dine with them, and after dinner, as they sat in the hall over the big fire, they began talking a little about Russia.

"It is extraordinary to me," Guy was saying, "how quickly and deeply and widely this Bolshevism has taken root. Up till quite lately this part of France has been particularly free of all Bolshevism and revolutionary talk. But now it is creeping over the provinces as well as in the towns. I suppose you, Monsieur Dragominsk, have nothing to fear from Lenin's tools, but of course you are aware that there is a great deal of Bolshevist propaganda in Orleans?"

"I believe there is," said the tutor with a serious face; "but I take good care to steer clear of them. They can do nothing to me. They have killed all my relatives and taken our lands and possessions. They want no more from me."

"I suppose," said Guy slowly, "that the peasants get contaminated with it when they go into the towns. We have been a very contented village here for many years; but lately discontent seems rife. I have had to discharge four farm-hands this week. And I came across some pernicious leaflets in the forge the other day. I taxed your landlord with the distribution of them. He is a great talker. Tailors generally are. He was handing them round as I came up, so I asked if I might have some, and he could not refuse me."

"I have noticed," said Adrienne, "that some of our people are getting sullen and unfriendly. I wonder why?"

"They seem all under your control," said Monsieur Dragominsk; "wonderfully so. These French country villages are as ours used to be, very old-fashioned and feudal."

"Excuse me," said Guy quickly, "we are republican in theory, only sometimes it is difficult to carry it out in practice. And our peasants cannot be compared with yours as regards intelligence. They are shrewd and wide awake and never can be driven by force—only won by persuasion."

"Oh, I know our peasants are little better than the beasts of the earth," responded the tutor; "but they seem to be waking up now with a vengeance. And the next generation will produce a new race of men in Russia."

When Monsieur Dragominsk had taken leave of them, Guy said to Adrienne:

"I don't want to think too much of it, but there's a lot going on in the village that I don't understand. Pierre says that the men gather together with shut doors in the inn. I suppose what is going on in Orleans is affecting them. Two factories there are on strike, and the gendarmes had to come out last night, I hear. I have never had trouble with the farm-hands before, and they have been utterly unmanageable these past few weeks."

Adrienne looked troubled.

The next day she went to see Agatha. She heard from her that the Curé had gone away for his yearly holiday.

"I wish he were here, Madame; he is generally about the village and knows all that is going on. There is something evil in our village. It wants to be discovered and rooted out. I am not one to meddle in politics, but these Bolshevists are against our Lord, and I wonder the Christian world does not rise up and exterminate them."

"Why, Agatha, I have never heard you speak so scathingly before."

Agatha's sweet face looked sad and stern.

"I lie here and think, Madame. I know the good God permits evil for His purposes, but it is His will that we should fight it. I have many friends in the village and they come and talk to me. Lately some of them have left off coming. And those that still come have black thoughts in their hearts. I can read them, and I tell them what I see through their eyes. They look ashamed, and some slink away, and some argue. But the tares are springing up amongst the wheat and they are choking it. I weep at night over what is going on."

"We must try and stop it," said Adrienne firmly.

She went home and talked to her husband.

Guy listened, but said little.

Adrienne playfully shook him by the shoulders.

"Say something, do something! I am beginning to feel again as I did when Monsieur Bouverie was in the village. As if we are surrounded by treachery! Several men to-day passed me with no recognition; they turned their heads the other way and made no response to my greeting. You are so silent, Guy. I am your wife. Let me into your thoughts."

Guy put his arm round his wife, and drew her to him.

"I never forget, thank God, that you are my wife. Trust me, dearest. I shall ferret out this poison and get rid of it. But I want to track it to its source. And I have to move warily."

"Oh, you're very much of a man," laughed Adrienne, tilting her head back on his shoulder; "you have an overwhelming confidence in your own discretion, and a very poor opinion of your wife's. But I will not be depressed. We have weathered through a bad time here, and we'll weather through again. And I know that you are strong in your decisions, and that though you move slowly, you move surely."

The next day Guy took his little son out for a ride.

Monsieur Dragominsk had business in Orleans. Guy was often content to ride along the lanes in silence, letting his boy do most of the talking, but he did not do this now. He talked to him about the life that was before him, of the English school he wished to send him to. And then it was that Alain surprised him:

"Don't you think, Daddy, that as I'm going to be a French Count it would be better for me to go to French school? England is not so nice as France, is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's got a king."

"I suppose that is not right?"

"No, it isn't, is it? America and France are bigger and better countries than England, and they're Republics."

"You're learning a lot, my boy. Now can you tell why kings and queens are a mistake?"

"Because nobody ought to be on top of us, and make us bow down to them."

"Then you certainly must never be a Count. That is quite wrong!"

"I suppose it is," Alain said reluctantly; "and in Russia you know, the Counts used to beat their servants to death. It is only now the poor people that are happy."

"I sometimes think," said Guy slowly, "that it's a mistake us having such a big house, when the peasants have such small ones."

"Yes," chimed in Alain eagerly, "and in Russia the poor people live in castles and the nobles in huts. It's been a turn-about; it's right that everyone should have a turn."

"Upon my word you're learning fast. Tell me more."

Alain lifted his handsome little head proudly. He was pleased to think his father admired his cleverness. "Daddy," he said suddenly, "how soon will I be big enough to leave off saying my prayers with Mother?"

"How big do you think you ought to be?"

"Well, I'm growing fast, and I want to do like men do."

"Don't men believe in God?"

"Not now, do they? We can't believe in what we can't see. It's only pretending all the time. I don't like to say so to Mother, but you understand, don't you?"

"I'm afraid I understand only too well, my boy. And is the Bible not to be believed?"

"It's only a history book about the Jews, isn't it? Nobody thinks anything of it now."

Guy's face was as calm and still, as if no surge of passion was rushing through his veins.

"Go on, Alain, talk away I like to hear you. Later on I'll talk too. Tell me more about Russia. Is it a happy country now?"

"It's getting happier every day, isn't it, Daddy? And one day it's going to get all the other countries into it, and make them happy too."

"How is it going to do that?"

"I think it's by teaching all the people the right kind of things. I don't quite know how—Oh, Daddy, do look at that kingfisher?"

Alain had had enough of serious talk, he could not be inveigled into it again.

Guy brought him home, and sent him up to his bonne; then he went into the library, and, sitting down in his chair before the fire, gave himself up to deep thought.

But he said nothing of his thoughts to Adrienne that night. Only he absented himself after dinner, and spent his evening down at the inn, where he was considerably enlightened on more points than one.

The next morning, when Monsieur Dragominsk arrived up to teach Alain, Guy met him in the hall and asked him to come into the library. Adrienne had been told that Alain was to have a holiday, and at his request she and he went into the woods together for a morning ramble.

When they came home, Guy met her in the hall. There was that in his set face that made her see at once that something was amiss.

"Well," he said as he drew her into the library, "I have had somewhat of a scene here; but I've cleared him out and given him only four hours' grace. He's like a raving maniac at present, but I think he'll calm down. I often wonder how it is that I've grown up without an ounce of French excitability in my brains. I think if I had been a Frenchman, we should have come to blows. As it was, I yearned to give him a good thrashing. But he knows he'll have it if he outstays his time."

"Of course you're alluding to Monsieur Dragominsk. I knew you would find him out. I have never trusted him. What have you discovered?"

"That for once the Soviet has made a mistake in its tool. He is a bungler and a fool."

"You mean that he is a fraud? No Count at all?"

"He's the son of a schoolmaster. I've been collecting facts about him for a few weeks past. He's over in France in employed pay of the Soviet for propaganda. I could have forgiven him if he had not torn down a child's faith and trust."

"Oh, Guy!—Alain! How horrible! How can we have been so blind and stupid? But he must have sealed the child's lips. He has been so unusually silent to me lately."

And then Guy told her of his conversation with his boy.

"I took him for a ride on purpose to pump him. I led him on, and he fell into the trap and divulged the teaching he has been getting. I blame myself. You were right, sweetheart; I was too hasty in my choice. Thank God he is out of this house, and I'll see to it that he leaves the village to-morrow."

"Is he very angry at being discovered?"

"He threatened and boasted a good deal. Said such places as this ought not to exist, and that they were out for exterminating them. He made no attempt to deny his real position, boasted of his success in the village, and said that he and his sort were going to sweep through the world making bonfires of the so-called upper classes—and such-like trash! But imagine him thinking he would live on with us as a tutor whilst he was turning the village upside-down and flooding it with his red propaganda! I fancy there's a screw loose; he got almost maniacal before he left. A very little more will land him in a lunatic asylum."

Adrienne shuddered.

"And we have trusted Alain to him. How awful!"

"It seems to be my rôle in life to unmask villains," said Guy with a dry smile. "I don't like the job, but I mean to do this thoroughly."

"I hope he won't be revengeful before he goes. He might kidnap Alain. Every child to them is a future asset for their achievement, I know."

"Keep him with you as much as possible, but Dragominsk is out for more than Alain."

"And it is he who has been stirring up the peasants. I think we ought to have discovered him before; but when I talked to him, he pretended to be entirely against the Soviet. What a traitor he is! Is he sleeping at the Gaugy's to-night?"

"I can't tell you. I only know that I shall have the police out from Orleans to-morrow if he doesn't go. I think he'll clear out."

Adrienne was uneasy all the next day. She learnt that Dragominsk had gone back to Orleans; but as she walked through the village there were sullen averted faces, and she was glad to get back to the Château. Guy took the bull by the horns, and in the parlour of the inn held forth to about seven or eight men on the subject of property and ownership. Alain was very puzzled at his tutors' sudden disappearance.

His father spoke frankly to him about it.

"I have sent him away, my boy, because he was not a good man, and as I want you to grow up a Christian gentleman, I want your tutor to set you a good example. You must try to forget a lot of what he taught you. And remember, we are all put into this world to serve and please God, and keep His commandments."

Alain was silent.

When he was saying his prayers that evening, he looked up into Adrienne's face earnestly:

"Is God a real person, Mother? Does He really see me and want me to love Him?"

"Yes, Alain, He loves you. He sent you into the world, and He will take you out of it. There are a lot of people who won't serve God or love Him, and they pretend to themselves that there is no God. The Bible calls those people fools, and they are."

Alain seemed impressed. When she had said good night to him, Adrienne came down into the hall where her husband was seated reading.

She went over to him, and, sitting on a low stool, rested her head against his knee.

"Do you think God will forgive and overrule our mistake?" she asked.

"Why, of course! It would be a bad look-out for us if He did not. Don't worry over Alain. He is small and impressionable, and I'm sure your teaching and training will soon remove the nonsense which Dragominsk has been filling his head with."

Then he stooped and kissed the little curls against her forehead. He was very undemonstrative as a rule, but he had his moments of emotion.

"My little wife," he murmured, "what should I do without you? We'll weather through this. Our peasants are like a flock of sheep. When the Curé comes back, he'll bring them to their senses. Don't go into the village for the next few days. Let them quiet down."

Then he added with his whimsical smile:

"And I have learnt my lesson; never to act again without the counsel and permission of my wife."