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Updated: July 10, 2025
The one thing at which she looked was the face of the fainting Queen, which was turned full towards the spectator. It was a very lovely face of a decidedly Jewish type. But what made Belasez glance from it to the brazen mirror fixed to the wall opposite? Was it Anegay of whom Bruno had been thinking when he murmured that she was so like some one? Undoubtedly there was a likeness.
When Licorice set her free from household duties, Belasez took her way to the little closet over the porch which served as her father's library. He was the happy possessor of eleven volumes, a goodly number at that date. Eight she passed by, knowing them to contain no pictures.
Licorice had been absent from home, for several weeks, and when she returned, Anegay was with her, and four men were also in her company. Anegay had been very ill: very, very ill indeed, said the child. But after long hesitation she was better now. `What about the baby? asked Isabel. Rosia looked surprised. She had heard of none, except Licorice's own thee, Belasez. Had she spoken with Anegay?
Again that look of intense pain crossed Bruno's face. "No wonder!" he said, speaking not to Belasez. "The very face the very look! No wonder! And thy mother?" "My mother is Licorice, the daughter of Kokorell of Lincoln." Bruno gave a little nod, as if he had known it before. "Hast thou any brethren or sisters?" "One brother only; his name is Delecresse."
"O my son, my son!" broke from Abraham. "Thou hast been more righteous than I. Come home with me, and tell the story to Belasez thyself; and then Adonai, Thou knowest. Help me to do Thy will!" Bruno was evidently much astonished, and not a little perplexed at Abraham's speech; but he followed him quietly.
Why, then, this uncomfortable, instinctive feeling that something was left behind which had not been told her? Belasez was lying awake in bed when she reached that point: and a moment after, she sprang to a sitting posture. Yes, there was something behind! What had she heard that, if it were known, would cost Abraham and Licorice their lives?
"Belasez," said Bruno, "years ago, before thou wert born, thy father had another daughter, and her name was Anegay." "Father! you said Anegay was not my sister!" came in surprised accents from Belasez. But a choking sob was the only answer from Abraham. "She was not the daughter of thy mother, Belasez; but of thy father's first wife, whose name was Fiona. Perhaps he meant that.
Belasez went through all her duties that day, without rousing the faintest suspicion in the mind of her mother that she had heard a syllable of the conversation between her parents the night before. Yet she thought of little else. Her household work was finished, and she sat in the deep recess of the window at her embroidery, when Delecresse came and stood beside her.
What had she heard which explained those mysterious allusions to herself as personally concerned in the story? Why would she leave them instantly if she knew all? What was that one point which Abraham had distinctly told her she must not know, which Licorice expressed such anxiety that she should not even guess? There was not much sleep for Belasez that night.
Her complexion was olive, her hair raven black, her eyes large and dark, now melting as if in liquid light, now brilliant and full of fire. And if Margaret looked two years beyond her real age, Belasez looked more like seven. "Thou knowest wherefore thou art come hither?" asked the Countess, smiling complacently on the vision before her.
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