Treasures of the Snow (18 page)

“Yes,” answered Lucien, and changed the subject. He did not want to answer awkward questions. He was going to keep Annette’s secret for her.

His thoughts kept going back to her as he sat in the front room whittling away on some wood held over a newspaper. His mother was ironing in the kitchen so he was alone.

“I asked Jesus to come in.” That was what Annette had said. And then Grandmother had read some verses out of the Bible. Perhaps he could find them. He would like to read them again.

He went to the shelf and lifted down the dusty old family Bible. His mother did not often read it, and he only knew what he had learned about it at school. He thought Grandmother’s verses had been somewhere near the end. He looked through and found the gospels with the stories he had heard in school about Jesus the healer—how He had made blind men see, and lepers clean, and dead men live; yes, and there was even a story about how He had made someone walk!

Well, if Jesus was really alive today and had changed Annette’s heart, surely He could make Dani walk, too.

Lucien had never really said his prayers since he was a tiny boy and had sometimes said them to his mother. But now he slipped over to the cowshed and ran up into the loft and knelt down on the same spot where all those months before he had hidden and wept so bitterly.

He did not understand yet what it meant to open the door to Jesus, but he believed now that God was near and would listen when he prayed. Now he prayed with all his heart that God would heal Dani and make him walk properly again, as He healed people in the Bible.

He stayed there quite a long time and then slithered down and milked the cows. When he opened the door to cross with the buckets, he was nearly thrown back by the snow driven almost horizontally by the wind. His mother was at the window looking out rather worriedly into the dusk.

“There’s a real blizzard on,” she said. “You’d better take the storm lantern and go to meet your sister. It’s got dark early.”

But at that moment the door was flung open and Marie, with snow frozen on her hair and clinging to her coat, stood breathless and laughing in the doorway.

“It was a real fight with the wind getting up that slope,” she panted as she shook out her wet clothes and changed her boots. “I’m nearly worn out! Lucien, why didn’t you come and meet me with the lantern? Mother, I hope supper’s ready, because I’m starving.”

They sat down at the table, Marie still chattering gaily, with her cheeks as red as apples.

“What a day I’ve had,” she exclaimed. “People have been coming and going all day at the hotel— not that they’ll get much winter sport this weather, poor things! I’ve been run off my feet, but I got a good tip this evening. Look, Mother.”

She pulled out a coin and handed it to her mother. Madame Morel took it with pleased surprise. She, like her neighbors, had difficulty in making the little farm pay, and Marie was a good girl about bringing home her wages.

“Who gave you all that?” she inquired.

“Oh, such a nice man,” cried Marie, “and I believe he’s very famous, too. The owner’s wife was telling me about him at dinner. He’s a very clever doctor and he can cure almost anyone with broken bones. He’s got a hospital down by the lake, and people go there from all over Switzerland and he cures them.”

Lucien nearly choked in his excitement. He leaned across the table. “Marie,” he burst out. “could he cure little Dani Burnier?”

Marie stared at him in astonishment. She did not know that Lucien still worried about Dani Burnier.

“I don’t know,” she answered quite kindly. “They’d have to take him down to the lake if they wanted Monsieur Givet to see him. But they’d never have the money. Those clever men charge huge fees, Lucien, as much as all the Burnier cows put together, I should think.”

Down to the lake? To Lucien, who had never left the valley, it seemed like the other end of the world.

He tried again. “But, Marie, couldn’t they take him to the hotel in the morning?”

“He’s leaving on the early train. All his luggage was brought down tonight.”

“Couldn’t they take him tonight?”

Marie felt quite sorry for him, but said, “Of course they couldn’t, Lucien. Fancy taking a little child out in this blizzard! Anyhow, the last train went hours ago, and the road over the Pass would be blocked on a night like this. It’s quite impossible. Besides, I tell you, they haven’t the money. Stop worrying yourself about Dani Burnier, Lucien. You didn’t mean to harm him, really, and he’s quite happy hopping about on that crutch and getting thoroughly spoiled by that grandmother of his!”

Lucien said no more, and his sister went on to talk about the other visitors, but Lucien didn’t hear a word. He had quite made up his mind what he was going to do, but there were three mighty difficulties in his way.

The doctor’s fees were very high, and Lucien had no money.

His thoughts flew to the old man up the mountain. He had plenty of money if he could be persuaded to give it.

The Pass was probably blocked.

Well, he could try. If he failed, he would know at least that he had done his best.

Would the doctor come? Would he leave the train that would carry him to his important hospital by the lake, and take a local train with a boy he didn’t know, and climb the mountain in a blizzard to see a peasant child?

It was all most unlikely, but there was just a chance that he would. Marie had called him a nice man.

“I’ve finished my supper, Mother,” said Lucien. “I’m going upstairs.”

O
nce in his room Lucien moved with great speed. There wasn’t a minute to be lost.

He put on his cloak, his woolly hat that came down over his ears, and his strongest boots. Then he wrote a note to his mother telling her he would not be back till morning.

He tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen and filled his pockets with bread and cheese and a box of matches. Then he silently lifted the latch of the back door and crept to the barn. The storm lantern hung on the wall, and Lucien lit it. The steady light comforted him. He wondered whether to take his skis, but decided it was too dark. He opened the far door of the barn and stepped out into the windy snow meadows, and the blizzard nearly knocked him over. He was safely away. His great adventure had begun.

If the wind was like this in the field, he wondered what it would be like on the Pass. Surely he would be blown over and buried in the drifts! Well, he would see when he got there. In the meantime he must think hard about reaching the old man.

It was a relief to reach the wood. Here at least he was sheltered and the snow on the path was not so deep, even though the trees made spooky noises. He could move more quickly without falling over.

Up he went through the tossing trees until he could see the orange glow of light in the old man’s window. He struggled to the door and knocked.

“Who’s there?” said the old man very cautiously from within.

“Me, Lucien.”

The door was flung open at once, and the old man helped him inside.

“Lucien, my boy,” he cried, peering at him in astonishment, “whatever brings you here in this weather, and at this time of night? What has happened?”

Lucien sank down on the bench for a moment to get his breath back. He did not like asking the old man for his money, but he really needed it badly.

“You once said,” began Lucien, looking up into the old man’s face, “that you had a lot of money to give to someone if they really needed it. I’ve found someone who really needs it. If you will give me your money, I think that little Dani Burnier’s leg might be made better.”

“How could that be?” asked the old man, looking very closely at the boy.

“There’s a doctor at the hotel where my sister works,” explained Lucien, “who can cure lame people and heal broken bones. I’m going now to ask him to come and see Dani. But my sister said he would want a lot of money.”

“You’re going now?” repeated the old man. “In this weather? You must be mad, boy! You could never cross the Pass in this weather.”

“I think I could,” replied Lucien, “on my skis. The blizzard started only a few hours ago, and the fresh snow won’t be deep yet, if I hurry. But it’s no good going unless I have the money!”

The old man did not answer for a minute. He seemed to be thinking very hard.

“I would give it if I was sure of the man,” he said doubtfully. “But I don’t want to waste or lose it. How do I know that he is an honest man? What is his name, Lucien?”

“His name is Monsieur Givet. My sister says he’s a famous man.”

“Monsieur Givet.”

The old man repeated the words softly in a strange voice, as though he thought he must have made a mistake about them. He seemed to have turned rather pale. But without another word he turned away, took a key from one of his own carved boxes, and opened a little cupboard in the wall behind his bed. He took out an old sock stuffed with bills.

“Take it all,” he said, “and give it to Monsieur Givet. Tell him it is all his if he will cure the child. Tell him … Tell him, Lucien, that it is the payment of a debt.”

His voice shook a little, and Lucien glanced at him in surprise, but he was too glad to wonder much. He had never seen so much money before in his life. He put the whole bundle inside his shirt, buttoned his coat and cloak over it, and made for the door.

“Thank you very much,” he said hastily at the door. “I’ll come and tell you what happens.”

The old man came to the door to watch him go and held his lantern high to light the path. Lucien had gone only a few steps when the old man called to him loudly above the wind. “Lucien!”

Lucien ran back. “Yes, Monsieur?”

“You won’t forget the message, will you?”

“No,” replied Lucien carefully. “I’m to say it’s the payment of a debt. I won’t forget. Good-bye, Monsieur.”

He was making off again into the night when the old man called again. “Lucien.”

The boy ran back, feeling impatient now. He wanted to get going. “Yes, Monsieur?”

“You won’t tell him anything about me, will you? Don’t tell him my name, will you, Lucien?”

“I don’t know your name,” Lucien reminded him.

“And don’t tell him where I live!”

“No, Monsieur,” Lucien answered him, too impatient to wonder why. “I’ll just say it’s the payment of a debt. Good-bye, Monsieur.”

He sped off as fast as he could through the deep, soft snow, afraid that the old man might call him again. At the edge of the wood he turned and waved his lantern. Through the whirling snow he could still see the dim figure of the old man, black against the light of his open door.

He must be very quick. The snow was still falling. Very soon the Pass would be impossible to cross, if it was not so already.

He thought it probably would be impossible to cross on foot, so he decided to stop in at the wood-shed on his way down and get his skis.

He had just lifted his skis down when the far door of the cowshed was flung open and his mother and Marie came in, waving a lantern. Lucien propped his skis against the wall and fell flat on his face on the dirty floor behind the largest cow.

“He’s not here,” said his mother in a sharp, worried voice, flashing her lantern around the shed. “I believe you’re right, Marie. He’s got some mad idea about going to that doctor. He’ll be stumbling along that mountain road by now, and the stupid boy hasn’t even taken his skis. I wonder if we could persuade Monsieur Burnier to go after him and fetch him back. He can’t have got far on foot.”

“I think we’d better,” agreed Marie. Her voice sounded worried, too. “Monsieur Burnier will easily catch up with him on skis and stop him before he gets anywhere really dangerous. Let’s go now and ask him.”

They went off hastily, and Lucien, pressed against the cow’s body, jumped to his feet. There wasn’t a moment to lose.

It would take them two or three minutes to get on their coats and boots. In this weather it would take them fifteen minutes to reach the Burnier chalet. Another ten minutes while they told their story and Monsieur Burnier collected his lantern and boots and skis. Lucien worked out he had roughly half an hour’s start. It should be enough, but then he was only a light child, and Monsieur Burnier was a heavy, skillful man who could ski much faster than Lucien.

Very, very carefully he crept out from the cowshed, relit the lantern, and fastened on his skis. Carefully he started off, keeping his head down because the blizzard was blinding.

Down over the meadows, he once again reached the friendly shelter of the forest path where he could look in front of him. Out across the low fields he sped, and here the wind was less furious and he could look straight ahead.

He made his way through the deserted village, looking around worriedly in case anyone should see him and want to know what he was doing. But everyone was indoors on such a night. He crossed the silent market square with its frozen fountain, past the dairy, over the bridge, and then he paused for breath. He glanced back fearfully in case Monsieur Burnier should be following, but there was no one in sight.

Now he had reached the lowest part of the valley and must start the climb up over the Pass that ran between two mountains. He suddenly felt terribly lonely, and for a moment he almost wished Monsieur Burnier would catch up. But he pushed the thought away and began his climb.