The Chevalier's daughter : $b or, An exile for the truthGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
The Chevalier's daughter : $b or, An exile for the truth
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Juvenile fiction; Historical fiction; Huguenots -- France -- Juvenile fiction
"Every one has been very good," said she. "I did not know that heretics
could be so kind. They used to tell us that the English settlers
murdered every Catholic, and especially every nun that fell into their
hands; but the people here have treated us like true Christians. They
have even sent us an interpreter. They say the French vessel will set
sail in about a week. Oh, Vevette, how we shall miss you!"
"Dear sister, I wish I could help take care of you; but you know it is
impossible," I said.
"Yes, I know; but—" in a frightened whisper. "Ah, Vevette, take good
care of yourself. The mother says the French king will have you back if
he goes to war for you."
"I am not alarmed," I answered. "The French king has his hands too full
to care or concern himself for such an insignificant person as I am.
But who is that?" I added, starting as a plainly dressed woman looked
into the room and withdrew again.
"That is our interpreter," answered Sister Margaret. "She is a
heretic—more is the pity—but she is very good and useful."
"I beseech you, sister, make some excuse to call her hither," said I,
all of a tremble. "I am sure I know her."
The sister called her, and held her a moment in some conversation while
I looked at her. No, I was not mistaken.
"Lucille!" said I.
She turned, looked at me a moment with wide eyes of wonder, and then
dropped in a dead faint at my feet. I had her in my arms in a moment.
"It is my foster-sister," said I to Mrs. Folsom. "I thought she was
dead."
I almost thought so again before we brought her to; but she revived at
last, and knew me. Poor thing, she was sadly changed. Her black hair
was quite gray, and her face looked fifty years old. She went home
with us, and after a while was composed enough to tell us her story.
She said she had become horribly sick of the convent life, and having
fallen into disgrace with her Superior, she determined to make her
escape. For this purpose, she feigned stupidity almost to idiocy, and
having thus thrown her watchers off their guard, she made her escape;
putting on some clothes she found thrown aside, and disposing of her
own garments in the way they were found. She had made her way by one
means and another to Dieppe, where she fell in with a captain's wife,
who was in sore straits for want of a servant. With her, she took
service, and came to the new settlements, where she had lived ever
since. With what joy she received the news of her parents' welfare, I
leave to be guessed.
I have little more to tell in order to complete this long history.
Mother Mary took her departure after a fortnight's delay, during which
she received a great deal of kindness from the good people, and had
more than one sharp theological duel. She did not, however, carry away
all her flock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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