52.
Bécassine had been nearly a quarter of an hour in the chair, and was beginning to fall asleep, when a great cry, some kind of howl of pain, rang out behind the door. She jumped up, hurried over, and pressed her ear to the door. All she could hear was the confusing sound of voices speaking English.
She stood trembling for a moment, wondering what she should do. Then, overcome with fright, she fled to the front hall. But there she found herself in the presence of the maid.
With the same sympathetic air, the maid took her by the hand, repeating, "Courage! Courage!" and led her back in. Bécassine let herself be led.
At that moment the mysterious, frighting door was opened. "Courage! Courage!" said the little maid, pushing Bécassine ahead of her.
The place that they entered did not appear very tragic. Bécassine saw nothing but two women conversing, one of them who looked a bit like a nurse, and the other who was dressed to go about town. The latter held her handkerchief to her mouth, and soon left.
The other lady put several questions to the maid, and then indicated that our friend should take a seat. Bécassine had never seen such a strange chair.
The maid handed her a cup. The emotions Bécassine had just experienced had left her with a dry throat. She sniffed the contents of the cup, and finding an agreeable minty scent, she downed it in one swallow. She didn't see anything funny in what she had done, but to see the two women laugh restored some of her courage. They didn't seem very evil, these two women.
"Vô soffrez?" the nurse asked her. She wondered: Was that English or French? The accent made her believe ...
53.
... that it was English. Remembering Emile's advice, she responded, "Yes."
Then, something happened that astonished her. The chair in which she was sitting rose up toward the ceiling and tilted backward.
Bécassine, whose jaws are as solid as those of a young shark, had never been to a dentist. She had no idea what was going on, and, feeling her terror revive, she gave a cry. But the young maid took her hands and in a voice that evidenced the deepest sympathy, repeated, "Courage! Courage!" A little comforted, Bécassine let them put stuffing in her mouth and wrap a bandage around her head. And she kept still, her heart pounding in her chest.
However, the nurse had drawn toward her some kind of tank with a tube attached, which began to bubble and growl in a most disquieting manner. Then she took up a steel instrument, terribly pointed and shiny and attached it to the tube. "Ovrez ... bouche!" she said.
When she saw that menacing apparatus approaching, Bécassine believed her final hour had arrived. With a violent effort she bounded from the chair and ran to the exit, crying as loudly as the stuffing and bandage would allow, "Help! An assassin!"
She made it into the front hall. But at the moment when she was about flee out into the street, she was caught and held by the two women.
At the same moment, the other door opened and a young woman appeared. She glanced in astonishment at the strange group, and then exchanged some words with the nurse. Then she said to Bécassine, in good French, "Oh! I am sorry, Mademoiselle, there has been a mistake. Let me explain."
54.
Bécassine had been deeply disturbed by the mysterious events that had just taken place. Her protectress saw that she was close to fainting. She led her to a chair.
Before she would sit, Bécassine asked in a fearful tone, "Will this one hurl me toward the ceiling, too?" Miss assured her that it was an honest armchair without any moving parts. Only then would she sit down.
When her worries had dissipated, the young lady told her, "I am Miss Daisy Grace, the fiancée of Major Tacy-Turn." At these words Bécassine jumped to her feet, searched her pocket thoroughly, and finally handed her an envelope, saying, "Miss, behold the tiny flower that the brave Major has picked for you on the field of battle."
The flower was faded and bent, but his fiancée gazed at it with deep emotion.
"Dear, dear Major," she murmured. "Speak to me of him, Miss Bécassine."
And Bécassine spoke with such warm affection that Daisy could not help laughing, "I'm getting jealous!"
"Oh!" protested Bécassine, "I love the Major dearly, but I wouldn't want to marry him. A husband who spends half his life among the clouds -- that wouldn't please me."
"Then I'm relieved," said Daisy, laughing wholeheartedly.
During the conversation, the nurse and the little maid approached. Daisy introduced them. "Miss Mary Grace, my sister and one of the best dentists in London." And she delved into how the housemaid Betty, and Miss Mary herself, had arrived at the belief that Bécassine had come for a procedure.
"Why did you think that?" asked Bécassine.
"Lady," said Betty. "When I enquired whether you spoke English, you replied, 'Yes.' If you had come to see Miss Mary: 'Yes.' Whether you required an extraction; you said, "Yes.'"
"I'll never say 'Yes' again," affirmed Bécassine, shivering at the thought of the peril her jawbone had nearly caused itself.
Now that that misunderstanding was cleared up, Miss Daisy announced that they should go through for tea. They entered a charming dining room.
55.
Daisy said a few words in English to Betty, who opened a pair of doors at the front of the room. And Bécassine saw a pretty group of about a dozen young girls carrying bouquets of blue, white and red.
They entered and presented their flowers to the brave girl, who was dumbfounded and moved. Then the eldest girl read an address in French, and the words courageuse aviatrice featured prominently.
The emotion and pride at seeing herself the object of such a reception overwhelmed Bécassine. Laughing and crying at the same time, she kissed the young girls. "Ah! The dears! Ah! The dears!" she repeated.
She also kissed Miss Daisy, her sister, and Betty, and tripped over herself thanking them. "I am the one who should thank you," replied Daisy gently. "You brought the little flower, and you rendered a great service to my fiancé."
Tea, accompanied by cakes and sweets, rounded out the celebration. Bécassine did them honour. While she savoured these good things, Daisy informed her that all the little girls present were orphans of war who congregated each day at her house. Bécassine kissed them once more, even more tenderly.
Then, with the moment of separation at hand, she made her emotional goodbyes. While she repeated her thanks, Miss Mary watched her closely. "Truthfully," she said, "Vô soffrez pas?"
"No! No!" cried Bécassine.
"Yet," insisted the dentist, "I see here" (she touched Bécassine on the cheek) "a little swelling." But, to her great surprise, the swelling instantly went down.
"It was a bonbon that hadn't melted," said Bécassine.
And she hurried out, dreading the thought of that terrible chair, and the operation she narrowly avoided.
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