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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Well, I don't remember all of it," admitted Ermengarde. "Well," said Sara, with courage and determination, "I'll tell it to you over again." And she plunged once more into the gory records of the French Revolution, and told such stories of it, and made such vivid pictures of its horrors, that Miss St.
Sara hesitated one second, then she answered: "I like you because you are not ill-natured I like you for letting me read your books I like you because you don't make spiteful fun of me for what I can't help. It's not your fault that " She pulled herself up quickly. She had been going to say, "that you are stupid." "That what?" asked Ermengarde. "That you can't learn things quickly.
The truth was that Ermengarde did not know anything of the sometimes almost unbearable side of life in the attic and she had not a sufficiently vivid imagination to depict it for herself. On the rare occasions that she could reach Sara's room she only saw the side of it which was made exciting by things which were "pretended" and stories which were told.
Her aunt took a solemn leave of her, crossed her forehead, kissed it, and whispered in her ear, "Be courageous, and be fortunate." "May not my bower-maiden, Rose Flammock, or my tire-woman, Dame Gillian, Raoul's wife, remain in the apartment with me for this night?" said Eveline. "Flammock-Raoul!" repeated Ermengarde, angrily; "is thy household thus made up?
Ermengarde gasped. "Oh, oh!" she cried woefully. "And I never knew!" "I didn't want you to know," Sara said. "It would have made me feel like a street beggar. I know I look like a street beggar." "No, you don't you don't!" Ermengarde broke in. "Your clothes are a little queer but you couldn't look like a street beggar. You haven't a street-beggar face."
There lacked not, however, such amusement as the house of Baldringham could afford, to pass away the evening. Blessed by a grave old Saxon monk, the chaplain of the house, a sumptuous entertainment, which might have sufficed twenty hungry men, was served up before Ermengarde and her niece, whose sole assistants, beside the reverend man, were Berwine and Rose Flammock.
Ermengarde was a severe trial to Mr. St. John. He could not understand how a child of his could be a notably and unmistakably dull creature who never shone in anything. "Good heavens!" he had said more than once, as he stared at her, "there are times when I think she is as stupid as her Aunt Eliza!"
That was why I gave him a name." She sat down on the floor in her favorite attitude, holding her knees. "Besides," she said, "he is a Bastille rat sent to be my friend. I can always get a bit of bread the cook has thrown away, and it is quite enough to support him." "Is it the Bastille yet?" asked Ermengarde, eagerly. "Do you always pretend it is the Bastille?" "Nearly always," answered Sara.
So they knew that it was Lavinia who had somehow guessed their secret and had betrayed them. Miss Minchin strode over to Becky and boxed her ears for a second time. "You impudent creature!" she said. "You leave the house in the morning!" Sara stood quite still, her eyes growing larger, her face paler. Ermengarde burst into tears. "Oh, don't send her away," she sobbed. "My aunt sent me the hamper.
Sara, who had keen ears, suddenly turned a little and looked up at the roof. "That didn't sound like Melchisedec," she said. "It wasn't scratchy enough." "What?" said Ermengarde, a little startled. "Didn't you think you heard something?" asked Sara. "N-no," Ermengarde faltered. "Perhaps I didn't," said Sara; "but I thought I did.
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