France -- History -- Henry IV, 1589-1610 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
There was only one person in the room, a young woman with fair, waving
hair, a pale face, and blue eyes, who, seeing a cloaked stranger
instead of the friend or neighbor she anticipated, stared at me in the
utmost wonder and some alarm. The room, though poorly furnished, was
particularly neat and clean; which, taken with the woman's complexion,
left me in no doubt as to her native province. On the floor near the
fire stood a cradle; and in the window a cage with a singing bird
completed the homely and pleasant aspect of this interior, which was
such as, if I could, I would multiply by thousands in every town of
France.
A small lamp, which the woman was in the act of lighting, enabled me
to see those details, and also discovered me to her. I asked politely
if I spoke to Madame Felix, the wife of M. Felix of the Chamber of
Accounts.
"I am Madame Felix," she answered, advancing slowly toward me. "My
husband is late. Do you come from him? It is not bad news, Monsieur?"
The tone of anxiety in which she uttered her last question, and the
quickness with which she raised her lamp to scan my face, went to my
heart, already softened by this young mother in her home. I hastened
to answer that I had no bad news, and wished merely to see her husband
on business connected with his employment.
"He is very late," she said, a shade of perplexity crossing her face.
"I have never known him so late before. Monsieur is unfortunate."
I replied that with her leave I would wait; on which she very readily
placed a stool for me, and sat down herself by the cradle, I ventured
to remark that perhaps M. Nicholas had detained her husband: she
answered simply that it might be so, but that she had never known it
happen before.
"M. Felix has evening employment?" I asked after a moment's
reflection.
She looked at me in some wonder. "No," she said. "He spends his
evenings with me, Monsieur. It is not much, for he is at work all
day."
I bowed, and was preparing another question, when the sound of
footsteps ascending the stairs in haste reached my ears, and led me to
pause. Madame heard the noise at the same moment and rose. "It is my
husband," she said, looking toward the door with such a light in
her eyes as betrayed the sweetheart lingering in the wife. "I was
afraid--I do not know what I feared," she muttered to herself.
[Illustration: SHE SPRANG FORWARD. _Page 37_.]
Proposing to myself the advantage of seeing Felix before he saw me, I
pushed back my stool into the shadow, contriving to do this so
discreetly that the young woman noticed nothing. A moment later it
appeared I might have spared my pains; for at sight of her husband, a
comely young man who came in with lack-lustre eye and drooping head,
she sprang forward with a cry of dismay, and, utterly forgetting my
presence, appealed to him to know what was the matter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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