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With his wife, his only child Phlipote, and Claude his apprentice, who was to marry Phlipote, he occupied a good house of his own. Of course the disposition of the young people, bred together from their childhood, does not at first entirely concur with the parental arrangements. But the story tells, reassuringly, how to some extent how sadly they came heartily to do so.
Phlipote allows Claude entrance to her chamber, full of admiration for its graceful arrangements, its virgin cleanliness. He inspects slowly all the familiar objects daily touched by her, her books, her girlish ornaments. One day she cried with an air of mischief, "If she were here in my place, what would you do?" and no sooner were the words uttered than his arms were round her neck.
Breathless, Phlipote comes in secret with the good news. The great actress desires some one to tune her clavecin: "'Papa would have gone; but I begged him so earnestly to take me to the Théâtre Français that he could not refuse; and it is yourself will go this evening to tune the clavecin of your beloved.
'Alas, Sire! said the Admiral, seeing that no perilous ears remained in the room; 'there are better and more soothing words than any mundane melody. 'Peste! My good father, said the King, petulantly, 'has not old Phlipote, my nurse, rocked me to the sound of your Marot's Psalms, and crooned her texts over me? I tell you I do not want to think. I want what will drive thought away to dull
She had come with her mother to the Sainte Chapelle to hear Mademoiselle Coupain play the organ and witness the extraordinary spectacle of the convulsionnaires, brought thither to be touched by the relic of the True Cross. In the press of the crowd at this exciting scene Phlipote faints, or nearly faints, when a young man comes kindly to their aid.
"'What, have you, too, a secret, my little Phlipote? "'I too, Claude! Then what may be yours? "'Listen, Phlipote! he answered. 'We don't wish to be husband and wife, but we can be friends good and faithful friends, helping each other to change the decision of our parents. "'Were I but sure you would not betray me "'Would you like me to confess first?
The woman I love Ah! but you will laugh at my folly! "'No, Claude! I shall not laugh. I know too well what one suffers. "'Especially when love is hopeless. "'Hopeless? "'Alas! I have never spoken to her. Perhaps never shall! "'Well! as for me, I don't even know the name of him to whom my heart is given! "'Ah! poor Phlipote! "'Poor Claude! "They had approached each other.
But they never talked to each other: the hands, the eyes, never met. Of what was Phlipote dreaming? and what was in the thoughts of Claude? It happened one day that, like sister and brother, the lovers exchanged confidences. "It is not always," observes Phlipote, whom every one excepting Claude on those occasions sought with admiring eyes "'It is not always one loves those one is told to love.
They wore, besides their ribbons of blue moiré, the silver dove on the shoulder, and the long mantle of sombre blue velvet lined with yellow satin. Phlipote watched mechanically the double file of haughty figures passing before them: then, on a sudden, with a feeble cry, falls fainting into the arms of Claude.
Phlipote never again opened her lips regarding the vague love which for a moment had flowered in her heart: only sometimes, a cloud of reverie veiled her eyes, which seemed to seek sadly, beyond the circle of her slow, calm life, a brilliant but chimeric image visible for her alone. And once again she saw him. It was in the terrible year 1794.
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