Chapter V: The Cemetery

We went at a brisk pace; and soon approached the village cemetery, which is about a league from the castle. “Suppose we turn back and take the forest road,” said Caroline.

“Why?” asked Cecilia.

“Because I do not like cemeteries.”

“Why do you not like them,” replied Cecilia with an air of derision. “Are you afraid you will not get away?”

“No, but I think of the poor people who are buried there, and it makes me sad.”

The children ridiculed Caroline and rode directly past the wall. They were just about to keep on, when Caroline, who seemed disquieted, stopped her donkey, leaped off, and ran to the cemetery gate.

“What are you doing, Caroline, where are you going?” exclaimed the others.

Caroline did not answer, but hurriedly pushing open the gate, she entered the cemetery, looked all around her, and ran towards a freshly made grave.

Ernest, who had anxiously followed, had caught up with her, at the moment when bending over the grave, she lifted up a poor little boy, of about three years, whose moans had attracted her attention.

“What is the matter, my poor little one? Why are you crying?”

The child could not answer for his sobs.

“Why are you here alone?” said Caroline again, noticing the child’s beauty and miserable clothing.

“They left me here, I am hungry,” he answered sobbing.

“Who left you here?”

“The black men, I am hungry,” was the answer accompanied with another sob.

“Ernest,” said Caroline, “run, and get our lunch, quick; we must give this poor little fellow something to eat; he will tell us afterwards why he weeps, and why he is here.”

Ernest ran to get the basket of provisions, whilst Caroline endeavored to console the child. In a few minutes Ernest re-appeared, followed by the whole band, whom curiosity had attracted to the spot. They gave the child some cold chicken and some bread soaked in wine. As he ate, his tears ceased to flow, his countenance became smiling. When he had eaten heartily, Caroline again asked him why he was lying on this grave.

“Because they have put grandmother here. I want to wait till she comes back.”

“Where is your papa?”

“I can’t tell, I don’t know him.”

“And your mama?”

“I don’t know, black men carried her off as they did grandmother.”

“But who takes care of you?”

“No one.”

“Who feeds you?”

“Nobody, I suck nurse.”

“Where is your nurse?”

“Down there at the house.”

“What does she do?”

“She walks, and she eats grass.”

“Grass?”

Here all the children looked at one another with surprise.

“Is she silly?” said Cecilia in an undertone.

“He does not know what he is saying,” replied Francis, “he is too little.”

“Why,” continued Caroline, “does not your nurse take you home?”

“She can’t, she has no arms.”

The children’s surprise increased.

“How then can she carry you?”

“I get on her back.”

“Do you sleep with her?”

“Oh! no, I could not do that,” said the child smiling.

“Where then does she sleep? Hasn’t she a bed?”

The child began to laugh as he answered.

“Oh! no, she sleeps on straw.”

“What does he mean,” said Ernest, “let us ask him to take us to the house, we shall see his nurse, and she can explain matters.”

“I must confess, it is all a mystery to me,” said Francis.

“Will you go back to your home, my little one?” asked Caroline.

“Yes, but not all alone; I am afraid of the black men, grandma’s room was full of them.”

“We will all go with you, you must show us the way.”

Caroline remounted her donkey, and took the little boy upon her lap. He showed us the way, and in five minutes we all reached the cabin of mother Thibaut, who died the evening previous and was buried that morning. The child ran to the house and called out “Nurse! Nurse!” Immediately a goat bounded out of the open stable, and darting towards the child, testified its joy at his return by a thousand gambols and caresses. The child likewise fondled it, and then said “Suck Nurse.” The goat immediately lay down on the ground, the little boy stretched himself near her, and began to suck as if he had neither eaten nor drunk.

“There, the nurse is explained,” said Ernest, at last. “What shall we do with this child?”

“We have nothing to do with him, except leave him with his nurse,” said Francis.

The others cried out with indignation.

“It would be wrong,” answered Caroline, “to abandon this poor little one, he might soon die for want of care.”

“What do you wish to do with him,” said Francis, “are you going to take him home with you?”

“Certainly; I shall ask mama to keep him at the house whilst she makes inquiries as to who he is, and whether he has any relatives or not.”

“And our donkey party, are we to give that up and all return?”

“No, Ernest will be kind enough to accompany me, and the rest of you can continue your excursion, there will still be four, so you can well do without Ernest and me.”

“She is right,” said Francis, “let us mount and continue our ride.”

And they departed, leaving the kind Caroline with her cousin Ernest.

“How fortunate it is they tried to tease me by passing so near the cemetery!” said she, “but for that, I would not have heard this poor child, and he would have spent the entire night on the cold, damp ground.”

It was I whom Ernest mounted. With my usual intelligence, comprehending that we must reach the castle as promptly as possible, I set off at a gallop, my comrade followed, and we were there in half an hour. The family was startled at our unexpectedly early return. Caroline recounted her adventure with the child. Her mama was puzzled as to what arrangements could be made for him, when the porter’s wife offered to raise him with her son, who was about the same age. The offer was accepted. On sending to the village to make inquiries concerning his name and parentage, Caroline’s mama learned that his father had been dead a year, his mother six months; the child had been living with a wicked, miserly old grandmother, who had just died the day before, that following the coffin to the cemetery, he had been forgotten and left there; moreover, that he was not poor, the grandmother having been in comfortable circumstances. The porter’s wife raised him well, and he became a fine fellow. I know him, his name is John Thibaut, he is always kind to animals, which proves his good heart, and he is very fond of me, which proves his sense.

The good goat was also brought to the porter’s and found a home there.