Free The Lost Estate by Henri Alain-Fournier Page A

black holes in the walls. Yet all the buildings had a mysteriously festive air. A sort of coloured glow shone from the low-ceilinged rooms where lanterns must also have been lit at the windows opposite the yard. The ground had been swept and grass pulled up where it had invaded the cobbles. Finally, if he listened carefully, Meaulnes thought he could hear some kind of singing, like children’s and girls’ voices, some way off in the jumble of buildings where the wind was shaking the branches across the pink, green and blue openings of the windows.
    He was standing there in his big overcoat, like a hunter, leaning forward and straining his ears, when an extraordinarily small young man came out of the nearby building, which had looked empty.
    He had a close-fitting top hat which shone in the dark as though it had been made of silver, a coat with its collar high into his hair, a very low-cut waistcoat and trousers with stirrups… This dandy, who was perhaps fifteen years old, was walking on tiptoe as though lifted up by the elastic under his feet, but with astonishing rapidity. He greeted Meaulnes as he went past, without stopping, bowing deeply, automatically, then vanished into the dark towards the main building – the farm, château or abbey – the turret of which had guided the boy since early that afternoon.
    After hesitating for a moment, our hero followed behind the curious little fellow. They went across a kind of great garden court, passed between flowerbeds, skirted a fish pond with afence around it, and a well, then finally reached the door into the main house.
    The heavy, wooden door, with a rounded lintel and studded like the door of a presbytery, was half open. The dandy disappeared inside. Meaulnes followed and as soon as he stepped into the corridor, even though he could see no one, he was surrounded by laughter, singing, shouts and the sounds of pursuit.
    Another corridor crossed the end of this one at a right angle. Meaulnes was not sure whether to carry on right to the end or to open one of the doors behind which he could hear the sound of voices, when he saw a girl chasing another along the corridor at the end. On his pumps, he ran to look at them and to catch them up. He could hear doors opening and see two fifteen-year-old faces, pink with the cool of evening and the heat of the chase, under their wide-brimmed bonnets with laces, all about to vanish in a sudden burst of light.
    For an instant, they twirled round, playfully; their full, light skirts lifted and filled with air. He glimpsed the lace of their long, quaint knickers and then, both together, after this pirouette, they leapt into the room and shut the door behind them.
    For a moment, Meaulnes stayed there, dazzled and steadying himself in the dark corridor. Now he was afraid of being discovered: his awkward, uncertain manner would surely mean he would be mistaken for a thief. He was about to retreat towards the door when he once more heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor and children’s voices. Two small boys were approaching, talking as they came.
    ‘Is it time for dinner soon?’ Meaulnes asked confidently.
    ‘Come with us,’ the elder boy said. ‘We’ll take you.’
    And with the trust and need for affection that children have on the eve of a big day, both of them took him by the hand. They were probably two little peasant boys. They had been dressed in their best clothes: three-quarter-length trousers that revealed their coarse woollen stockings and clogs, a little blue velvet jerkin, a cap in the same colour and a white tie.
    ‘Do you know her?’ one of the children asked.
    ‘What I know,’ said the smaller, who had a round head and innocent eyes, ‘is that Mum told me she had a black dress and a ruff and she looked like a pretty pierrot.’
    ‘Who’s that?’ Meaulnes asked.
    ‘Why, Frantz’s fiancée, the one he went to fetch…’
    Before the young man could say anything in reply, all three of them reached the door