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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Thou art too bold, sweetheart," said the Lady Ermengarde, looking at the Flemish maiden from under her dark brows; "and yet there is wit in thy words. Saxon, Dane, and Norman, have rolled like successive billows over the land, each having strength to subdue what they lacked wisdom to keep. When shall it be otherwise?"
"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Ermengarde. "Do you think you can?" "I know I can," Sara answered. "The little ones always remember what I tell them." "Sara," said Ermengarde, hope gleaming in her round face, "if you'll do that, and make me remember, I'll I'll give you anything." "I don't want you to give me anything," said Sara. "I want your books I want them!"
The new Ermengarde was letter-perfect, and nobody but herself had any fear that she would be stage-struck, even though the Princess would be sitting in the very middle of the fourth row.
The ladies and Coningsby had exhausted badinage; they had examined and criticised all the furniture, had rifled the vases of their prettiest flowers; and Clotilde, who had already sung several times, was proposing a duet to Ermengarde, when a servant entered, and told the ladies that a carriage was in attendance to give them an airing, and after that Lord Monmouth hoped they would return and dine with him; then turning to Coningsby, he informed him, with his lord's compliments, that Lord Monmouth was sorry he was too much engaged to see him.
Sara sprang off the bed, and put out the candle. "She is scolding Becky," she whispered, as she stood in the darkness. "She is making her cry." "Will she come in here?" Ermengarde whispered back, panic-stricken. "No. She will think I am in bed. Don't stir." It was very seldom that Miss Minchin mounted the last flight of stairs. Sara could only remember that she had done it once before.
"He he won't run out quickly and jump on the bed, will he?" she said. "No," answered Sara. "He's as polite as we are. He is just like a person. Now watch!" She began to make a low, whistling sound so low and coaxing that it could only have been heard in entire stillness. She did it several times, looking entirely absorbed in it. Ermengarde thought she looked as if she were working a spell.
"My papa has sent me some more books," answered Ermengarde woefully, "and he expects me to read them." "Don't you like reading?" said Sara. "I hate it!" replied Miss Ermengarde St. John. "And he will ask me questions when he sees me: he will want to know how much I remember; how would you like to have to read all those?" "I'd like it better than anything else in the world," said Sara.
They are as quick as lightning." Ermengarde looked from her to the doll and back again. "Can she walk?" she asked breathlessly. "Yes," answered Sara. "At least I believe she can. At least I PRETEND I believe she can. And that makes it seem as if it were true. Have you never pretended things?" "No," said Ermengarde. "Never. I tell me about it."
No man, be he the bravest in France, ever went to his help and came back to tell the tale. Let him abandon Orange, and let the King give him instead the Vermandois. It was the Lady Ermengarde who broke the silence. 'O God, she cried, 'to think that the Franks should be such cowards! And you, Sir Aimeri, has your courage failed you also?
Someone had, indeed, lighted a candle, and it was not burning in the kitchen candlestick she was expected to use, but in one of those belonging to the pupils' bedrooms. The someone was sitting upon the battered footstool, and was dressed in her nightgown and wrapped up in a red shawl. It was Ermengarde. "Ermengarde!" cried Sara. She was so startled that she was almost frightened.
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