The children sat down in a row on the stiff chairs against the wall, and the lady lighted a long, slim red taper at the wood flame, and then she drew the curtains and lit the little candles, and when they were all lighted the little French boy suddenly shouted, 'Bravo, ma tante! Oh, que c'est gentil,' and the English children shouted 'Hooray!'
Then there was a struggle in the breast of Robert, and out fluttered the Phoenix--spread his gold wings, flew to the top of the Christmas-tree, and perched there.
'Ah! catch it, then,' cried the lady; 'it will itself burn--your genteel parrakeet!'
'It won't,' said Robert, 'thank you.'
And the little French boy clapped his clean and tidy hands; but the lady was so anxious that the Phoenix fluttered down and walked up and down on the shiny walnut-wood table.
'Is it that it talks?' asked the lady.
And the Phoenix replied in excellent French.It said, 'Parfaitement, madame!'
'Oh, the pretty parrakeet,' said the lady.'Can it say still of other things?'
And the Phoenix replied, this time in English, 'Why are you sad so near Christmas-time?'
The children looked at it with one gasp of horror and surprise, for the youngest of them knew that it is far from manners to notice that strangers have been crying, and much worse to ask them the reason of their tears.And, of course, the lady began to cry again, very much indeed, after calling the Phoenix a bird without a heart; and she could not find her handkerchief, so Anthea offered hers, which was still very damp and no use at all.She also hugged the lady, and this seemed to be of more use than the handkerchief, so that presently the lady stopped crying, and found her own handkerchief and dried her eyes, and called Anthea a cherished angel.
'I am sorry we came just when you were so sad,' said Anthea, 'but we really only wanted to ask you whose that castle is on the hill.'
'Oh, my little angel,' said the poor lady, sniffing, 'to-day and for hundreds of years the castle is to us, to our family.To-morrow it must that I sell it to some strangers--and my little Henri, who ignores all, he will not have never the lands paternal.But what will you? His father, my brother--Mr the Marquis--has spent much of money, and it the must, despite the sentiments of familial respect, that I admit that my sainted father he also--'
'How would you feel if you found a lot of money--hundreds and thousands of gold pieces?' asked Cyril.
The lady smiled sadly.
'Ah! one has already recounted to you the legend?' she said.'It is true that one says that it is long time; oh! but long time, one of our ancestors has hid a treasure--of gold, and of gold, and of gold--enough to enrich my little Henri for the life.But all that, my children, it is but the accounts of fays--'
'She means fairy stories,' whispered the Phoenix to Robert.'Tell her what you have found.'
So Robert told, while Anthea and Jane hugged the lady for fear she should faint for joy, like people in books, and they hugged her with the earnest, joyous hugs of unselfish delight.
'It's no use explaining how we got in,' said Robert, when he had told of the finding of the treasure, 'because you would find it a little difficult to understand, and much more difficult to believe.
But we can show you where the gold is and help you to fetch it away.'
The lady looked doubtfully at Robert as she absently returned the hugs of the girls.
'No, he's not making it up,' said Anthea; 'it's true, TRUE, TRUE!--and we are so glad.'
'You would not be capable to torment an old woman?' she said; 'and it is not possible that it be a dream.'
