United States or Martinique ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
None of the girls had ever been to her what Cheri was. They had each and all loved to be with her, and to listen to her wondrous stories of things that always happened "yonda, beyon' de bayou." But none of them had stroked her black hand quite as Cheri did, nor rested their heads against her knee so confidingly, nor fallen asleep in her arms as he used to do.
She agreed with him that golden balls would be a very pretty play, but she was afraid such a thing could not be found. "They were fairy balls, you know, Chéri," she said, gravely. "Yes," Hugh replied, "he knew they were; he did not expect such balls as they were, of course, but still he didn't see why they might not get some sort of gold-looking balls.
And from the other side of the tapestry from inside the castle, one might almost say came the voice he had heard in his sleep, the voice which seemed to have awakened him. "Good-night, Chéri," it said, "good-night. I have gone home the other way." "Jeanne, Jeanne, where are you? Wait!" cried Hugh, starting to his feet. But there was no reply. Hugh looked all round.
I think, Chéri, part of me was there and part not; can there be two of me, I wonder? But please, Chéri, don't ask me any more. It puzzles me so, and then perhaps I may say something to vex you. Let us play at our day games now, Chéri, and never mind about the other things. But if you go anywhere else like that, ask the fairies to take me too, for I always like to be with you, you know, Chéri."
Now, with his head upon the woman's shoulder, he moaned and wept with pain and fright. "Oh, La Folle! La Folle! it hurt so bad! I can' stan' it, La Folle!" "Don't cry, mon bebe, mon bebe, mon Cheri!" the woman spoke soothingly as she covered the ground with long strides. "La Folle goin' mine you; Doctor Bonfils goin' come make mon Cheri well agin." She had reached the abandoned field.
Most of them shuddered with superstitious dread of what it might portend. "She totin' Cheri!" some of them shouted. Some of the more daring gathered about her, and followed at her heels, only to fall back with new terror when she turned her distorted face upon them. Her eyes were bloodshot and the saliva had gathered in a white foam on her black lips.
The snow was still, as I said, thick on the ground, thicker, indeed, than the day before. But the children managed to amuse themselves very well. Marcelline would not hear of their going out, not even as far as the chickens' house, but she fetched Nibble to pay them a visit in the afternoon, and they had great fun with him. "He looks very happy, doesn't he, Chéri?" said Jeanne.
Cheri got off his horse at the entrance of the subterranean passage they made for him, and groped his way after the kind Dove, which safely conducted him to the fountain. The Prince filled his golden vase; and returned the same way he came. He found Belle-Etoile sorrowfully seated under some trees, but when she saw him she was so pleased that she scarcely knew how to welcome him.
Oh no, our frogs are quite different from theirs, Chéri," she added with profound conviction. "Just like our trees and everything else, I suppose," said Hugh. "Certainly this is a funny country. But hush, Jeanne! I believe the concert's going to begin." They sat perfectly still to listen, but for a minute or two the sound which had caught Hugh's attention was not repeated.
"And who is Mariane, Jean? Will she also be in at the 'kill?" "Mariane is my wife, M'seur. Ah, ma belle Mariane ma cheri the daughter of an Indian princess and the granddaughter of a chef de bataillon, M'seur! Could there be better than that? And she is be-e-e-utiful, M'seur, with hair like the top side of a raven's wing with the sun shining on it, and " "You love her a great deal, Jean."
Word Of The Day