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
Thus, I daresay, has the ingenuous lamb, clothed in the white wool of
its simplicity, thought to cope, with success, against the hovering
wolf and snarling panther. There is room enough for all of us, it has
bleated. Let me gambol on this square of sward, and do you frolic as
you choose beyond. The artless thing cannot discern the smacking chops
of wolf or hungry leer of panther, or perceive that it is its own
quivering pink limbs that the two are after, and which they are
preparing presently to rend. If Gabrielle could have read the thoughts
that were working in two busy skulls within that rumbling berline she
might have, perhaps, gazed out of the window with less hopeful
equanimity.
Clovis, touched on his rawest points, was burning with exasperation.
As Pharamond had truly declared it was absolutely monstrous of the old
donkey who was dead to have placed a noble of ancient race and lofty
lineage in so ridiculous a predicament; and it was just one shade more
shocking that his never-sufficiently-to-be-execrated daughter should
have so meanly taken advantage of the situation. She had actually
dared, with an innocent simper which set all his nerves twanging, to
tell him one morning to his face that he was to live on an allowance!
He, her lord and master! Whether the allowance was to be large or
small was beside the question. He was firmly resolved, and supported
therein by Pharamond, utterly to repudiate the allowance. She had
humiliated him once, and was bent on doing so again and again--was
unwise enough, having planted a dagger, to turn it in the wound,
thereby rousing the victim out of sheer pain to make a desperate
effort of retaliation. By the terms of a will which she had been
sufficiently insolent to make, her fortune was to pass over his head
for the behoof of his own children, who would be thus emancipated from
any control on his part. If she could act so outrageously and show so
clearly how little she respected his feelings, she could not expect
him to consider hers. And with it all there was a sham veneer of
deference that was but added insult. "Clovis," she had said, when
composedly making the announcement, "I have thought it all over
carefully, and am acting for the best according to my lights. I should
like you to feel assured that the revenues I hand to you for your own
use are, indeed, your own; I mean that however ill you may behave to
me I will never withdraw them, for I do not wish you to feel, on your
good behaviour, at the mercy of your wife."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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