United States or Greece ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She nodded to Madame Senneville. "Where is he?" she asked. "Monsieur le Cure will show you. It is he who has saved his life." The young lady turned and looked into the priest's pink face, which grew pinker. This was not the material of which gallant rescuers are usually made. "Thank you, Monsieur le Cure," she said, with a sudden gentleness. "Thank you.
"Come, Madame Senneville. Let me get this man to bed." "It is an Englishman, of course," said the Mother Senneville, examining the placid white face. "They throw their dead about the world like cigar-ends." By midday the news was in the London streets, and the talk was all of storms and wrecks and gallant rescues.
"It is his sister, Madame Senneville," he said. "She will, of course, stay in the hotel." "Yes, and I have no room ready," replied the huge woman, pessimistically. "One never knows what a summer storm may bring to one." "No, Mother Senneville, no; one never knows," he said rather absently, and went out into the street.
The waves were breaking over the sea-wall, but the two men with their senseless burden took no heed of it. They were all past thinking of salt water. In answer to their summons, the Mother Senneville came hastily enough to the back door of the Hotel de la Plage a small inn of no great promise.
The cure had just finished his dejeuner of fish and an omelette the day being Friday when a carriage rattled down the village street, leaving behind it doorways suddenly occupied by the female population of Yport wiping its hands upon its apron. "It is Francois Morin's carriage from Fecamp," said the Mother Senneville, "with a Parisienne, who has a parasol, if you please."
"You have been so good you have done such wonders, that I rely upon you to help me;" and a sudden, sharp look of anxiety swept across her face. "We shall be good friends n'est ce pas?" she said, turning to look at him as he stood near the door. "It will be easy, I think, mademoiselle." Then he turned to Madame Senneville, who was carrying the baggage upstairs.
When the three were together they were merry enough; indeed, the Englishman's mistakes in French were sufficient to cause laughter in themselves without that re-action which lightens the atmosphere of a sick-room when the danger is past. But while he was talking to the Mother Senneville downstairs, or waiting a summons to come up, the cure never heard laughter in the back bedroom.
The noblesse of the colony sank embracing each other on the luckless ship Auguste in which they fled to France. Alas, my friends so brave and so lovely! Ah, Varennes and La Vérandrye, and you my poor Lady de Mezière! Senneville also, my dearest friend," he murmured, speaking to the spirits. "La Corne alone escaped. Pardon me, Monsieur. Who is now Seigneur of Berthier?" "Captain Cuthbert."
It is the young ones that work best for nothing, and here is no payment for any of us." "Not now," said the priest. "Ah!" cried Belfort, tossing off the brandy, which the Mother Senneville had poured out for him. "You you expect so much in the Hereafter, Mr. the Cure." "And you you expect so much in the present, Mr. the one-armed malcontent," replied the priest, with his comfortable little laugh.
They hastily searched the dripping clothing, and found a crumpled envelope, which, however, told them all they desired to know. It was addressed to Mr. Albert Robinson, steamship Ocean Waif, Southampton. "That will suffice," said Belfort. "I take this and leave the rest to you and Mother Senneville." "Send the doctor from Fecamp," said the woman "the new one in the Rue du Bac.
Word Of The Day