Christian life -- Fiction; Dreams -- Fiction; France -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Quite discountenanced by this reception, Felicien would not have dared
to have taken a seat, had not Hubertine welcomed him cordially, as
she smiled in her sweet, quiet way at this excellent customer. Almost
immediately she resumed her work, bending over the frame where she was
embroidering on the sides of the mitre the Gothic ornaments in guipure,
or open lacework.
On his side, Hubert had just taken down from the wall a banner which was
finished, had been stiffened, and for two days past had been hung up to
dry, and which now he wished to relax. No one spoke; the three workers
kept at their tasks as if no other person had been in the room with
them.
In the midst of this charming quiet, the young man little by little grew
calmer. When the clock struck three, the shadow of the Cathedral was
already very long, and a delicate half-light entered by the window,
which was wide open. It was almost like the twilight hour, which
commenced early in the afternoon for this little house, so fresh and
green from all the verdure that was about it, as it stood by the side of
the colossal church. A slight sound of steps was heard on the pavement
outside; it was a school of young girls being taken to Confession.
In the workroom, the tools, the time-stained walls, everything
which remained there immovable, seemed to sleep in the repose of the
centuries, and from every corner came freshness and rest. A great
square of white light, smooth and pure, fell upon the frame over which
Hubertine and Angelique were bending, with their delicate profiles in
the fawn-coloured reflection of the gold.
“Mademoiselle,” began Felicien, feeling very awkward, as he realised
that he must give some reason for his visit--“I wish to say,
Mademoiselle, that for the hair it seems to me it would be better to
employ gold rather than silk.”
She raised her head, and the laughing expression of her eyes clearly
signified that he need not have taken the trouble of coming if he had no
other recommendation to make. And she looked down again as she replied,
in a half-mocking tone:
“There is no doubt about that, Monsieur.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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