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Updated: June 15, 2025
As I told Hephzibah, the little copy of La Rochefoucauld and the miniature of Ambrosine Eustasie are the only things of mine my own that are here, besides all my new books, of course. I sat down in the straight-backed sofa. It has terra-cotta and buff tulips running over the mustard brocade. The gilt part runs into your back. Antony sat at the other end.
It is two weeks now since I wrote my name Ambrosine de Calincourt Athelstan for the last time, two weeks since I walked down the rose-strewn guillotine steps on Augustus's arm, two weeks since he Ah, no! I will never look back at that. Let these hideous two weeks sink into the abyss of oblivion!
It is bound in brown leather and has the same arms and coronet upon it that my chatelaine has the arms of Ambrosine Eustasie de Calincourt and an "A. E. de C." entwined, all tooled in faded gold. "The arms on my knife!" Antony said, pulling it from his waistcoat-pocket and comparing them. "My knife," I said. "Tell me all about her A.E. de C.," he commanded, seating himself on the sofa again.
Grandmamma often told me how her grandfather, the husband of Ambrosine Eustasie, had refused to fight with a man of low birth who had insulted him, but had sent one of his valets to throw the creature into the street, because in those days a gentleman only crossed swords with his equals. I now understood his feelings. I could not quarrel with Augustus, the whole situation was so impossible.
"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * in nature I find there is a stronger force than all these things, and that is the touch of the one we love." Ambrosine. "One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and caprice." Boston Transcript, Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing eyes that looked a thousand unsaid challenges.
I never willingly let myself think of Antony, but unconsciously my thoughts are always turning to the evening in the fog. I do not know where he is. He may be at Dane Mount, only these few miles off, and yet we must not meet. I wonder if Ambrosine Eustasie de Calincourt had ever a lover. Probably and she would have listened to him, being of her time.
Going away to the great, vast beyond and perhaps there she will meet Ambrosine Eustasie de Calincourt, and all the other ancestors, and Jâcques de Calincourt, the famous friend of Bayard, who died for his lady's glove; and she will tell them that I also, the last of them, will try to remember their motto, "Sans bruit," and accept my fate also "without noise."
"No, you shall not go until you tell me why you started? And your name, too; I do not know it either!" "Ambrosine de Calincourt Athelstan." He knitted his level eyebrows as if trying to recall something, and absently began to pull the knife out of his pocket. Augustus was coming towards us. "Yes," I said, "but it is too late. Good-bye."
"No, I did not know." My heart began to beat in a sickening fashion. He leaned close to me over the sill. I put down the cup and took up the miniature. I thought if I looked at Ambrosine Eustasie that would give me courage. I went on dusting it, and I was glad to see my hands did not shake.
She does not have to fluster in, buttoning her cuff, when people call. "Mr. Gurrage wishes to see you, grandmamma," I said, as I kissed her hand, and then I left them to take off my hat and I did not come down again until I heard the front door shut. "That is a terrible young man, Ambrosine," grandmamma said, when I did return to the drawing-room.
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