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
"Oh, no, maman; Eleanor showed me where to gather them. It was her
thought in the first place. See what beautiful rosebuds, for so late
in the year. We have none such in Normandy. But I suppose our poor
flower-garden is all trampled into the earth," I added, and then seeing
that my mother's lips turned white, and that she grasped the back of
the chair for support, I sprang forward, exclaiming, "Oh, dear maman, I
beg your pardon. I did not mean to hurt you."
"There is no fault to be pardoned, my child," said my mother,
recovering herself as by a great effort, and kissing me; "but, Vevette,
I must be selfish enough for the present to ask you not to speak of—"
Her lips turned pale again, and she seated herself in the chair.
I bathed her face with some sweet waters which stood on the
toilette-table, and she was soon herself, nor did she again allude to
the subject.
When she was quite recovered, we said our morning prayers together, and
read the Psalms for the day, as we had been used to do at home. We had
but just finished, when Cousin Marianne tapped at the door, which I
opened.
"So you are both up; and I hear—my dear, what shall I call you?" said
she, with one of her abrupt transitions. "That name of Genevieve does
not suit an English girl, to my thinking."
"Call her Vevette," said my mother. "It is the name she has always gone
by. Or you may call her by her first name, Agnes, if you like."
"Oh, my dear, Agnes is an unlucky name—at least for Cornish folks.
Vevette answers nicely, though it does sound a little like a cat," she
added reflectively. "However, it does not matter; and I am sure such
a nice cat as that of yours is a credit to any family. Why, no sooner
did it see me cutting some cold meat than it sat up upon its hind legs,
and spread out one paw exactly like a Christian. But, my dear Margaret,
will you join us at breakfast and family prayers? Do just as you
please."
"We will come certainly," said my mother.
And leaning upon my arm, she descended to the parlor below—not the
one I had been in before—where we found the whole family assembled,
including my Cousin George, who came forward to meet us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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