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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf, you are une enfant. I will no longer trouble myself with looking out for a husband for you. You shall die a sour old maid," and Monsieur Gironac left the room, pretending to be in a passion. A few days after the meeting with Count de Chavannes, Lionel made his appearance. My heart beat quick as I welcomed him.
But I do know that the following morning the young gentleman called again at the gate with a led horse for my brother; but did not ask if we were at home, merely sending his compliments to the ladies, and requesting Monsieur de Chatenoeuf to accompany him for a ride.
"In proof of which no danger, we have been all frightened nearly to death; Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf has been grievously affronted, and I am not sure but she would have been beaten by a French Chevalier d'Industrie, had it not been for the gallantry of the Count de Chavannes."
In England the very reverse is the case; we apply to the young lady, gain her affections, and when certain of them, we then request the sanction of those who are her guardians. Which do you think is the most natural and satisfactory, Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf?"
"You are very kind, Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, but it will be taxing you too much." "Not at all, Lady M , if I have your sanction."
"M. Chatenoeuf," the officers would say, "you have begotten a daughter much handsomer than yourself." My mother considered this as a polite way to avoid saying that I was much handsomer than she was. If she thought so, she did herself a great injustice, for I could not be compared to what she was, when she was of my age. She was even then a most splendid matron.
I took the opportunity to ask whether your unnatural mother was alive, and he said, `Yes, and that your father was also alive and well. "I did not dare to ask more. Have I done right or wrong, my dear Mademoiselle Chatenoeuf? If wrong, I can easily repair the error. Your brother, for such I presume he is, I admire very much.
Surely this cannot be true, my dear Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf?" Oh! how my blood boiled when I heard this. How far it was true, the reader already knows; but the manner in which it was conveyed by Lady M , quite horrified me.
"Allow me to present to you Monsieur Auguste de Chatenoeuf, a lieutenant in the service of his Majesty the King of the French." Auguste bowed, and, as I returned the salute, looked earnestly at me and started. "Excuse me, mademoiselle," said he, coming up to me, and speaking in a tremulous voice, "but yes, you must be Valerie." "Yes, dear Auguste," cried I, opening my arms.
As she was assisting me, she said, "And so, Miss Chatenoeuf, you are about to quit us, I find. I am so sorry first, Miss Caroline now you. I hoped you would stay with us, and I should soon have become an expert milliner under your directions." "Who told you, Mason, that I was going to leave you?" "Mrs Bathurst told me so, and not a quarter of an hour ago," replied the woman.
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