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Updated: May 31, 2025
I am seated at the window of the salon, gasping in these simmering dog-days for a breath of fresh air; such a cool, balmy breeze as blows over the summer sea to the cliffs of Sark. Monsieur Laurentie, under the shelter of a huge red umbrella, is choosing the ripest cluster of grapes for our supper this evening. All the street is as still as at midnight.
Yet while I told Monsieur Laurentie seriously that I should go alone to Ville-en-bois in the autumn, I did not altogether believe it. We often speak in half-falsehoods, even to ourselves. Dr.
I resolved to get up that evening, as soon as the heat of the day was past, and have a conversation with him and Monsieur Laurentie. In the cool of the evening, while the chanting of vespers in the church close by was faintly audible, I went downstairs into the salon. All the household were gone to the service; but I saw Tardif sitting outside in my own favorite seat under the sycamore-tree.
Minima claps her hands, and cries, "The prince, Aunt Nelly, the prince!" Monsieur Laurentie walks slowly down to the gate, his cotton umbrella spread over him, like a giant fungus. It is certainly not the prince; for an elderly, white-haired man, older than Monsieur Laurentie, but with a more imposing and stately presence, steps out of the carriage, and they salute one another with great ceremony.
I was making my escape by another door, not being sure how I ought to encounter a bishop, when Monsieur Laurentie called to me. "Behold a friend for you madame," he said, "a friend from England. Monsieur, this is my beloved English child."
At night, after all the village was silent, with the moon shining brilliantly down upon the deserted streets, the sound of stealthy footsteps came to me through my window. I pulled the casement open and looked out. There marched four men, with measured steps, bearing a coffin on their shoulders, while Monsieur Laurentie followed them bareheaded.
Madame, I believe the good God sent you here to help us." I discovered that mademoiselle's opinion was shared by all the people in Ville-en-bois, and Monsieur Laurentie favored the universal impression. I had been sent to them by a special providence. There was something satisfactory and consolatory to them all in my freedom from personal anxieties and cares like their own.
I heard hurried footsteps and joyous voices. A minute or two afterward, Minima beat against my barricaded door, and shouted gleefully through the key-hole: "Come down in a minute, Aunt Nelly," she cried; "Monsieur Laurentie is come home again!" I felt as if some strong hand had lifted me out of a whirl of troubled waters, and set me safely upon a rock.
It was a question I must face, that of what I was going to do in the future. "I don't know altogether," she said, reflectively. "The boys here are not so nice as they used to be at home. Pierre says I'm a little pagan, and that's not nice, Aunt Nelly. He says I must be baptized by Monsieur Laurentie, and be prepared for my first communion, before I can be as good as he is.
I sat watching the glistening of the water through the pillars of the parapet till my eyes were dazzled. "I scarcely understand what you say," I answered, after a long pause; "you know I care for you all. If you mean, do I love you as I love your father and Monsieur Laurentie, why, yes, I do." "Very good, Olivia," he said. That was so odd of him, that I turned and looked steadily into his face.
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