The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 2 (of 3)Wingfield, Lewis
History
The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 2 (of 3)
Wingfield, Lewis
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Lovers billing and cooing in the moonlight, discoursing, doubtless, on
the happiness they should certainly enjoy when married. They believed
in human happiness, and looked forward to a future! Gabrielle laughed
a hoarse laugh that frightened her, and she retreated to the boudoir
in a feverish tingle. What was there to-night that made her feel more
desolate than usual? She must be unwell, for her nerves were twanging
so that she could not sit still a moment. The children were asleep by
this time, for mademoiselle was very careful of them. She deserved, at
least, that justice. Asleep and dreaming--not of her; for she rarely
saw them now at all, except gambolling like kids in the distance. She
felt suddenly impelled to be near the treasures over whom her soul
yearned so sorely. She could not see them, of course, for had not
mademoiselle made her understand long since that in the nursery she
held no authority? The dear ones. Thank God they were happy! She would
creep out in the spring air and kiss the wall behind which the
children lay! Almost guiltily she took up a silken wrap with trembling
fingers and stole forth. It was well the chevalier was in a boozy
sleep, or he would insist on following, and in his presence she would
have been ashamed to gratify her whim. Away, across the inner yard,
through the postern door, of which she wore a golden key upon a
bracelet, along the trim alleys of the moat garden to the extreme
right wing of the two floors of which mademoiselle had taken
possession. As we know, she established herself on arrival in the
rooms below the salon; but later, under pretext that it was damp, had
removed herself and her charges. In the chamber now used as nursery
she had caused a window to be pierced, so as to give access to the
garden moat It was so much better for the children, she had pleaded,
to be able to dance out at once upon the sunlit grass instead of
threading darksome corridors. How thoughtful! Of course she was right,
as usual. Clovis was enchanted with her attention to details, and the
window was made forthwith.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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