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
His conversation was an odd mixture of worldly shrewdness and an almost
childlike simplicity, but I observed with approval that he did not load
his discourse with oaths as my uncle, and even his wife, had done. On
the whole, I liked our new friends very well, and when he proposed to
carry me out and show me something of the parks and the city, I looked
to my mother rather anxiously for her approval. She made no objection;
so Mr. Pepys came by and by with his coach (which I fancy he had not
possessed a great while, he seemed so proud of it), and took us into
the park, and there showed us many great lords and ladies, pointing
out to us, with a kind of awful reverence, my Lady Castlemaine, and
some other person of the same stamp. I saw my mother flush as with
indignation as she said, half to herself:
"And it is in such a world as this that they would have me leave my
child to be brought up!"
"You must not think, madame, that all the ladies about the court
are like these," said Mr. Pepys. "There are many who bring up their
families in all virtue and godly living, like my good Lady Sandwich and
others I could name. But I am quite of your mind as to Mrs. Genevieve,
and if I were so happy as to be blessed with a daughter, she should,
if possible, grow up in the country. His Majesty is a most noble
prince—Heaven bless him, with all my heart!—but his example in some
things hath done our young people little good."
It seemed that the merchant to whom we hoped to dispose of our jewels
was out of town, but as he was to return in a few days, Andrew advised
us to wait for him. Meantime, at their earnest entreaty, we spent a few
days with my uncle and aunt.
My mother indeed passed much of her time in her own apartment, which,
as her widowhood was so recent, no one could decently object to; but I
went out several times with my aunt to the park, and even to Whitehall,
where I saw the king and queen, and many great people besides. It
seemed that the king had heard something of our story; at all events,
he noticed me, and asking who I was, I was informally presented to him.
There was less formality about the court at that time than ever has
been before or since. He spoke kindly to me—for he was always kind when
it cost him nothing—asked after my mother, and made me a compliment on
my good looks. I noticed after this, that my aunt was rather in a hurry
to get me away, and she never took me thither again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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