From her description of the young man, the girls were led to think that he must be a sort of fairy prince in disguise,--and not very much disguised, either.
So in the afternoon the three girls and Ma'amselle went for a drive in one of the great touring cars, of which Ma'amselle had several.
Patty begged to be allowed to sit in front with the chauffeur, and rather astonished that impassive factotum by asking to be allowed to drive.
He was very much disinclined to grant her request, lest it should displease the old Ma'amselle, of whom all her servants stood greatly in awe; but when Patty appealed to her hostess, and received a not very willing permission, the chauffeur allowed her to change seats with him, and really drive the car.
He was greatly surprised at Patty's skill, and became more than ever convinced that Americans were a strange race.
Their route lay past the railway station and along the beautiful terrace which skirts the forest of St. Germain on one side, and commands such a marvellous view of the valley and the Seine.
Returning home, the girls were left to their own devices until dinner- time, when they were adjured to array themselves appropriately to do homage with the wonderful Henri.
"Henri must be something out of the ordinary," declared Elise, when the girls were alone.
"Probably not," said Patty; "only Ma'amselle thinks him so."
"At any rate I'm anxious to see him," declared Elise, "for I don't know any real live French boy except that Pauvret who was on the steamer, and he was too lackadaisical for any use."
"Well, I don't apprehend M'sieu Henri will be much better," said Patty; "I don't care much about Frenchmen, anyway. What are you going to wear, girls?"
"I shall wear my red chifon," said Rosamond; "it's most becoming to me; I'm a perfect dream in it, and I shall quite cut out you other girls with our foreign prince."
"Pooh!" said Elise; "he won't look at you when he sees me in my white tulle. I'm the Frenchiest thing in that you ever saw!"
"Oh girls," cried Patty, "I'm going to wear my light blue crepe de chine. And then we'll be red, white and blue! Won't that be a graceful compliment to the French colours, as well as to our own dear flag!"
"Long may it wave!" cried Rosamond, and then following Patty's lead, the girls sang the "Star Spangled Banner" with true American heartiness and patriotism. This they followed up with the "Marseillaise," in which they were interrupted by the appearance of one of the maids in a great state of excitement.
In breathless haste, which made her French difficult for them to understand, she explained that Ma'amselle had had a telegram of dreadful import, and would the young ladies attend upon her at once.
The maid ushered the wondering girls to Ma'amselle's apartments and found her in her dressing-room, in the hands of her maid, who was assisting her in a hasty toilette.
The tears were rolling down the old lady's cheeks, and she seemed to be in a state of trembling agitation.
"Ah, mes enfants" she cried, "but it is news of the most dreadful! Mon Henri, my well-beloved nephew,--his arm,--it is broken! Ah the sadness for the poor boy. Me, I fly to him at once,--but at once! You, but you will excuse me, you will forgive, because of the dear boy! I go to Paris, but I return, bringing my boy with me."
It was rather a mixed-up explanation, but the girls finally gathered that Henri had had the misfortune to break his arm, and had sent for his aunt to come to Paris and spend the New Year Day with him instead of taking his intended trip to St. Germain.
Henri had not known that his aunt had the young ladies visiting her, and so had no idea that he was disarranging her plans to such an extent.
"He can come!" she exclaimed; "bah, it is not his legs; it is but his arm. Of a certainty, one does not walk on one's arm! But the dear boy! I shall go to him and explain all. Then we will return, and there shall be feasting and happiness. A broken arm is not so much,--it will mend,--but to him I must fly!"
Patty endeavoured to find out definitely the old lady's plan, but she could only gather that there was no time to be lost, that Ma'amselle must catch the seven o'clock train.
To be sure of this, she must leave the house at half-past six.
And so she started, in her swift touring car, accompanied by her maid and a groom, in addition to her capable and trusty chauffeur.
Away they went, and the girls returned to the drawing-room to consider the situation.
"It was all over so quickly," said Patty, "that I hardly know whether I'm on my head or my heels. What a whirlwind Ma'amselle is!"
"Yes, she flew around like a hen with its head off, or whatever French hens do," said Rosamond; "if she whisks that broken-armed boy home as fast as she whisked herself off they'll be here in a minute."
"She can't," said the practical Elise. "If she takes that seven o'clock train, she won't get to Paris until nearly eight, and then, I don't know where the interesting invalid lives, but anyway, to kidnap him and get back here again is a matter of several hours. I don't expect to see them before midnight."
"What shall we do?" said Patty; "shall we have our dinner?"
"I don't believe we'll have any say in the matter," volunteered Elise. "I think that waxwork butler, and the 'feetmen,' as Rosamond calls them, will arrange our lives for us, and we'll be simply under orders."
"What an exciting experience," exclaimed Patty; "to think of us three American girls, alone except for the servants, in a gorgeous old French Chateau! I feel as if I must do something to live up to my privileges."
"Suppose anything should happen that Ma'amselle never came back," suggested Rosamond; "we could take possession of the place and live here forever."
"I don't think much of that plan," declared Patty; "New York is good enough for me, as a permanent residence. But I do want to do somethink in keeping with the atmosphere of this place. If there's a dungeon keep on the premises, I think I'll throw you two girls into it, after having first bound you in chains."
"You mean a donjon keep, Patty," said Elise; "you're so careless with your mediaeval diction."
A noise in the hall, as of an arrival, startled the girls, and rising impulsively, they flew out to see what it was all about.
To their astonishment, they found the footmen holding open the great front doors, while three stalwart young men entered.
The middle one, who was partly supported by the other two, had his arm in a sling, and as he was undoubtedly a Frenchman, the girls were sure at once that he was no other than the worshipful Henri.
At sight of the three astonished girls the three young men looked equally amazed, and whipping off their caps, they made profound bows to the strangers.
It was a comical situation, for doubtless Henri had expected to see his aunt, and was instead confronted by three unmistakably American misses.
Of the six, quick-witted Patty grasped the situation first.
"You are Monsieur Henri Labesse, is it not so?" she said, advancing toward the broken-armed one.
In her haste and bewilderment, Patty spoke in English, forgetting that the young man might not understand her native tongue.
But he answered in English quite as good as her own, though with a decided French accent, "Yes, Mademoiselle, I am Henri Labesse. I make you my homage, These are my two friends, Cecil Villere and Philippe Baring."
"We are glad to welcome you," said Patty, in her pretty, frank way; "these are my friends, Mademoiselle Farrington and Mademoiselle Barstow. We are guests of your aunt."
"Ah, my aunt!" said Henri, as the other boys acknowledged the introductions, "where is she? Did she not get my telegram?"
"She did, indeed,"