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To-morrow to-morrow no, this very night, her grandfather and one other, even Maitresse Aimable, should know all; and she should sleep quietly oh, so quietly to-night! Looking into a mirror on the wall it had been a gift from her grandfather she smiled at herself. Why, how foolish of her it had been to feel so much and to imagine terrible things!
The preëminent modern Zeuxis, however, was Pierre Mignard, whose portrait of the Marquise de Gouvernet was accosted by that lady's pet parrot, with an affectionate "Baise moi, ma maitresse!" Raffaelle was transcendant not only in history, but in portrait. His portraits have deceived even persons most intimately acquainted with the originals.
Dow went or stayed, though he had never given her the marriage certificate. Indeed, was it not better he should go? Thereby one less would know her secret. But still an undefined fear possessed her. "Cheer thee, cheer thee, my dee-ar, my sweet dormitte," said Maitresse Aimable, patting her shoulder. "It cannot harm thee, ba su! 'Tis but a flash in the pan."
The sound of rapid footsteps echoed across the lower hall, a whistle ran into an air, sung gayly, with spirit: "J'ai perdu ma maîtresse, Sans l'avoir merité, Pour un bouquet de roses Que je lui refusai. Li ya longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai!" She fell abruptly silent, and spoke no more until she descended to the council-room where the table was now spread for dinner.
"On the contrary, that is just what these artful women do who sacrifice virtue but cling all the more to reputation. I read French novels, my boy." "Find 'em instructive?" "Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our writers dare. Her turning away her lover now is just the act of what the French call a masterly woman maitresse femme.
"The wedding, the aunts, the cousins, who come staring at you for a day and giving you advice for years. A solemn apartment near the Etoile madame with her afternoons monsieur with his club, his maîtresse, his gambling and his debts the children with their English governess. A villa by the sea, tennis, infants and sand-forts. The annual stupid voyage en Suisse. The inane slavery of it all.
As in her mental maze she sat panting her way to enlightenment, she saw Guida's boat entering the little harbour. Now the truth must be told but how? After her first exclamation of welcome to mother and child, Maitresse Aimable struggled painfully for her voice.
At last, as the flame flashed up in the chimney, she came over to her friend, and said: "Carterette, I am going to the Dean's. Will you run and ask Maitresse Aimable to come here to me soon?"
She patted her pony, took the bridle in her little brown hand, and vaulted lightly into her seat. "There now, Julie; return quickly, and go to your room." "Au plaisir, portez-vous bien, ma maitresse." "I shall take care of myself. Adieu;" and she galloped down the grassy knoll, and out upon the prairie.
Had then a new sight been given to herself? She saw and understood the look in Maitresse Aimable's face, and instantly knew it to be the same that was in her own. With a sudden impulse she dropped the bashin she was polishing, and, going over quickly, she silently laid her cheek against her old friend's.
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