Canada -- History -- To 1763 (New France) -- Fiction; United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
In another corner is my spinning-wheel, and there stands a
harpsichord, just where the soft sun sends in a ribbon of light;
and I will presently play for you a pretty song. I wonder if you
can hear it? Where I shall sit at the harpsichord the belt of
sunlight will fall across my shoulder, and, looking through the
window, I shall see your prison there on the Heights; the silver
flag with its gold lilies on the Chateau St. Louis; the great
guns of the citadel; and far off at Beauport the Manor House and
garden which you and I know so well, and the Falls of Montmorenci,
falling like white flowing hair from the tall cliff.
You will care to know of how these months have been spent, and
what news of note there is of the fighting between our countries.
No matters of great consequence have come to our ears, save that
it is thought your navy may descend on Louisburg; that Ticonderoga
is also to be set upon, and Quebec to be besieged in the coming
summer. From France the news is various. Now, Frederick of Prussia
and England defeat the allies, France, Russia, and Austria; now,
they, as Monsieur Doltaire says, "send the great Prussian to
verses and the megrims." For my own part, I am ever glad to hear
that our cause is victorious, and letters that my brother writes
me rouse all my ardour for my country. Juste has grown in place
and favour, and in his latest letter he says that Monsieur
Doltaire's voice has got him much advancement. He also remarks
that Monsieur Doltaire has reputation for being one of the most
reckless, clever, and cynical men in France. Things that he has
said are quoted at ball and rout. Yet the King is angry with him,
and La Pompadour's caprice may send him again to the Bastile.
These things Juste heard from D'Argenson, Minister of War, through
his secretary, with whom he is friendly.
I will now do what I never thought to do: I will send you here
some extracts from my journal, which will disclose to you the
secrets of a girl's troubled heart. Some folk might say that I am
unmaidenly in this. But I care not, I fear not.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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