The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 3 (of 3)Wingfield, Lewis
History
The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 3 (of 3)
Wingfield, Lewis
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"Always call me Clovis. I insist on it," observed, with benign
authority, the bird in borrowed plumes.
Algaé, with one of those impulsive movements, which in so massive a
woman were charming, because unexpected, jumped up and kissed the
marquis's hand, and pressed it to her bosom. "Clovis. To me always
Clovis--when we are alone with the abbé," she murmured, gratefully,
"but not in public--for your sake. Since you are so kind--so
kind--cannot I put up with annoyance from the nun? So far as I am
concerned, accept all, and any of her conditions. If she drives me
forth again, I can take up my residence at Blois, which is not so very
far, and you will sometimes come and see me."
Algaé was vastly improved. With delighted admiration Clovis had, since
her return, become assured of it. Her spirits were more airy, her
humour more refined; and she fairly bubbled over with good nature, and
she never made remarks now that were unpleasantly pithy. What an
advantage large women have over small ones! It is given to the small
to be querulous and vixenish. The large and stout ones are conspicuous
for indulgent charity, You rarely find them speaking ill of their
neighbours. Clovis was quite convinced that Algaé was a dusky pearl,
and blamed himself severely for mistrusting her at the time of the
attempted suicide.
Gabrielle was not long in coming to a decision. Having been admittedly
precipitate, and having looked at things from their worst point of
view, it was her place to show generosity. What could she lose by
falling in with the wishes of the men, and making a new will to please
them, which, in the event of her death, would be no better than
waste-paper? Since Clovis could show a proper pride, such as became
his rank, it would not be well to torment him. It had been a noble
trait that in the same breath, he should have proposed to retire from
the scene, and yet not distress her about the children. Supposing he
had gone, along with Algaé, and had taken the dear ones with him?
Legally, she would have had no remedy. It never should be said that he
could be more generous than she. The baleful woman whose evil spells
had wrecked her content must go, of course; but she should be allowed
to take her time, and not be expelled violently, as before.
Ostensibly, she had come on a visit. Let her remain for a week or two
longer, and quietly withdraw. No harm would be done. No scandal would
arise. The acute incident would be closed, giving way to a prospect of
tranquillity.
His wife sent a short note to the marquis, begging his attendance in
the boudoir. He made a wry face, for it was terribly like a
schoolboy's summons to receive a flogging.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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