Anna B looked a little exasperated. She said, “I knew Carl was here. I saw him the other day and he explained to me.”
“Explained…?”
I could not stop myself from looking at him. He was very different from the previous occasion when he had been immaculately dressed for the evening. He was now wearing a loose jacket which had smudges of earth on it; and so did his trousers. Moreover, he was carrying a rake.
“Carl works here…in the gardens,” said Anna B.
He smiled at me. “Yes,” he said. “That is so.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know…exactly,” went on Anna B.
“What do you mean?”
“It is a…er…joke,” Carl said. “A gamble…a bet I entered into. Ah, I mean a wager, I think. A friend of mine, he say I would not do manual labor for three months. He meant to take a job.”
“What about the embassy? Don’t you belong to an embassy?”
“Yes…yes. This is something I must do because I say I can. I say I will do it for two months. My friend say ‘You will not remain so long.’ I say I will, so I do.”
“A wager,” I said. “I have heard of people doing things like that.”
“Yes…that is what it is. I will win…I have made up my mind.”
“Does Madame Rochère know that you are here on a…wager?”
“Oh, no, no, no. She would send me off. She thinks I am a bona fide gardener’s boy.”
“It’s a bit of a joke,” said Anna B. “And I think you are very brave to do it, Carl.”
“Oh…but it does not require bravery…just work.” He looked ruefully at his hands. “It is work to which I am not accustomed.”
“You are doing very well,” said Anna B. “I am sure they are very pleased with you. How marvelous it will be when you have won your wager! You will be rightly proud of yourself. How much is it, Carl?”
“Twenty thousand francs.”
Anna B pursed her lips and looked impressed.
“Oh, but it is not the money,” he said.
“The honor of Switzerland, eh?” said Anna B jocularly.
“Something like that.”
“Do you live here?” I asked.
“Over there.” He waved his hand. “There are some little cottages…more like huts really. But I manage…for my wager. The gardeners all live there together with others employed here. It is adequate.”
“I see.”
“Well…I should not be speaking to young ladies from the school, of course.”
“We can’t be seen here among all these trees,” said Anna B. “At least, I hope not.”
We walked through the shrubbery and Carl pointed out his living quarters in the distance.
“There you see my dwelling,” he said. “And now I take my leave.”
With that he bowed and left us.
Anna B looked a little cross, and I gathered it was with me. I was about to mention this when she said, “I wouldn’t say anything about meeting Carl if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s a bit secret, isn’t it? I don’t know what old Rochère’s reaction would be—the old snob. She wouldn’t want people coming to work here to settle wagers, would she? She would expect a properly trained gardener.”
“Well, he is only here for a little while.”
“She does not know that. So don’t say anything, will you?”
“You didn’t say you’d seen him.”
“It was only the other day I did. Then I came upon him accidentally…like now.”
“I suppose we might never have seen him if you hadn’t come across him by chance.”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
“Do you think he was a bit put out because we have discovered him?”
“Perhaps. He wouldn’t want it generally known about the wager, would he?”
“He told you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mention it to Caroline or any of them. It would be all over the school if you did.”
“I won’t.”
“What are you supposed to be doing now?”
“Just taking a little walk before I go back. It’s conversazione at six. I don’t know what we are going to talk about.”
“Let’s wait and see, eh?”
She walked with me a little, and after that we went in.
It was a few days after my encounter with Carl and I had ceased to marvel at the coincidence of his choosing our school in which to work out his wager.
I said to Anna B, “He seems to be one of those people who turns up in odd places.”
She smiled to herself.
“Well,” I went on, “he was there at our house…outside the cubbyhole…and then to find him here. It’s odd.”
“He’s a diplomat, of course.”
“He gets long holidays at that, I suppose. How strange for a diplomat suddenly to become a gardener!”
“He explained. I suppose he has an exciting time.”
She was smiling. She looked different and had for some time. I thought it was because she was enjoying school. She and Lucia were always whispering together; there was a touch of superiority about them both, as though they knew something that the rest of us didn’t.
That night, when I had been fast asleep, I was abruptly awakened by someone calling. “Lucinda…Lucinda!” It was insistent, dragging me out of a pleasant dream.
Caroline was standing by my bed. She was wearing her dressing gown.
“Wake up,” she said. “I can hear something. Listen.”
I sat up in bed, trying to shake off my drowsiness.
“What…?” I mumbled.
“Footsteps,” whispered Caroline. “I heard them go along the corridor and down to the hall.”
“The ghost!” I cried.
“Get up. I’m going to look. Come with me.”
“It’s late…”
“Listen.”
I did, and then I heard it, too. It was definitely the sound of footsteps and they were going down the staircase in the direction of the hall. I felt my heart begin to beat faster. Now I was as curious as Caroline.
Yvonne was awakened. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s the ghost. We’ve both heard it,” whispered Caroline.
“Where?”
Caroline jerked her head toward the door. “In the corridor and now on the stairs….Listen.”
We stood very still.
Helga was now awake. We explained quickly.
“We’re going to look,” said Caroline.
Helga hastily got out of bed and put on her dressing gown while Caroline quietly opened the door, and we went out into the corridor.
We descended the staircase and were in the hall. We gasped, for ahead of us, standing by one of the windows, was…the ghost.
It was the slim figure of a young woman, her hair loose about her shoulders; she had her back to us so we could not see whether she wore a veil over her scarred face, but in those first moments we were sure she did.
And then it dawned on us that she was not wearing the robes of an earlier century, but she was in a dressing gown very like those we were wearing. As we stood there the figure turned, and, instead of the pockmarked beauty, we saw that our ghost was Marie Christine du Bray.
“Marie Christine!” whispered Caroline.
She laid a hand on my arm, and as she did so, Marie Christine walked slowly toward us, her hands slightly outstretched, as though she were feeling her way. She gave no sign that she saw us.
“She’s walking in her sleep,” Caroline whispered.
“What do we do?” asked Yvonne.
“Go and get Mademoiselle Artois,” said Caroline.
“What?” cried Helga.
“Hush. We mustn’t wake her. We don’t know what to do. We ought to get her back to bed.”
Caroline herself took on the task and hurried upstairs to the room where Mademoiselle Artois slept. It was at the end of the dormitory, where she had two rooms, a bedroom and a study.
Marie Christine by this time had walked down to the end of the hall and sat in an armchair. Caroline had told us to stay quietly and watch her, in case she went somewhere else.