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Updated: May 14, 2025
"Oh, yes, you did," replied his sister; "because mamma always said it was perfectly barbarous to change the pretty name of Aloise into 'Wisi." "I certainly never heard it each time," said Max. "But pray what has become of this Wisi?"
How I envy you at times! and how happy you are to be a man, naughty libertine that you are! Is not my Fleur-de-Lys adorably beautiful, and are you not desperately in love with her?" "Of course," he replied, still thinking of something else. "But do say something," said Madame Aloise, suddenly giving his shoulder a push; "you have grown very timid."
"You cannot have forgotten the child, Max," began his sister, "of whom I was speaking yesterday, who lived quite near to us. She belonged to the pale, thin weaver, whose shuttle we could always hear moving back and forth when we stood in our garden. The child always looked clean and neat, and had great lively, sparkling eyes, and beautiful brown hair. Her name was Aloise."
Andrew spoke most eloquently and feelingly on this subject; and, although everybody else had adopted the name 'Wisi' for Aloise, he never called her so, but said 'Wiseli' so softly and prettily, that it was very sweet to hear. I was so surprised, and so sorry, that I could not say a word. Neither did my mother speak for a long time, but looked very much troubled.
In the meantime, Dame Aloise, delighted to see them thus bending towards each other and whispering, said as she toyed with the clasps of her prayer-book, "Touching picture of love!" The captain, more and more embarrassed, fell back upon the subject of the tapestry, "'Tis, in sooth, a charming work!" he exclaimed.
"Oh! in fact, what a pretty little goat!" said Amelotte, clasping her hands in admiration. "Are his horns of real gold?" inquired Berangere. Without moving from her arm-chair, Dame Aloise interposed, "Is she not one of those gypsy girls who arrived last year by the Gibard gate?" "Madame my mother," said Fleur-de-Lys gently, "that gate is now called the Porte d'Enfer."
She was always very friendly with him, but she was the same with others; and as I once asked our mother how it could be, she shook her head a little, and said, 'I am afraid, I am afraid that the nice little Aloise is a trifle heedless, and may have to suffer for it. These words gave me much food for thought, and recurred to me again and again.
From the smiles and significant gestures of Dame Aloise, from the glances which she threw towards her daughter, Fleur-de-Lys, as she spoke low to the captain, it was easy to see that there was here a question of some betrothal concluded, some marriage near at hand no doubt, between the young man and Fleur-de-Lys.
"My dear Colombe," interpolated Dame Aloise, "do you not mean the hotel which belonged to Monsieur de Bacqueville, in the reign of King Charles VI.? there are indeed many superb high warp tapestries there." "Charles VI.! Charles VI.!" muttered the young captain, twirling his moustache. "Good heavens! what old things the good dame does remember!"
At length, Madame Aloise, who was not the less jealous because she was so for her daughter, addressed the dancer, "Approach, little one." "Approach, little one!" repeated, with comical dignity, little Berangere, who would have reached about as high as her hips. The gypsy advanced towards the noble dame.
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