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huge pile of them, enough sometimes to last several weeks,
and it cannot be denied that toward the end, one needed to
be very hungry to relish them. We had corn bread also, for
Simon cultivated one of the best of the small farms into
which the domain was divided; but we ate it as a great
treat, as English children eat plum-cake.
Simon smiled.
"Alas, poor man, if that were all!" said Simon. "But now
wilt thou remember these things, my child?"
"Yes, thou art only too ready to tell," replied her mother.
"Take care that no one has to tell of thee."
"Yes, I know what you wish, and you shall have your
wish," said I, for I was now at a white heat.
"But you did keep me, and I should have come home at
once, only the poor Mother Laroche asked me so earnestly
to come in and amuse Jean a little. But I must hurry home.
Come, girls."
Lucille and I did not go into the house, but into the
granary, which was one of our places of retirement. I took
up an old psalm-book and began turning over the leaves.
Lucille stood looking out of the door. At last she spoke.
CHAPTER II.
THE TOUR D'ANTIN.
"Madame could think but ill of her child did she show no
feeling at parting with her nurse," said my mother kindly.
"But cheer up, my little daughter; I hope you will be happy
here. We will often visit our good friend. Come, do not show
to your father a face bathed in tears."
"I suppose David and I can make the place neat for
ourselves if you are not here," said Lucille, taking me up
rather sharply.
"Of course you will," said Lucille; "you will have to learn
to play the lute and to write and work embroidery, and a
hundred other things. You will be a great lady, and we
cannot expect you to come and visit us. David ought to
know better than to think of such a thing."
"They are all alike—all wolves alike!" said the old man,
in his thin voice. "Some are in their own skin, some in
sheep's clothing; some are like the loup-garou,* and speak
with the voice of a man; and they are the worst of all."
"An idle tale indeed! What is the world coming to? Did
not my grandfather know one—a man who used to turn
himself into a wolf and scour the country at night, followed
by his pack, and devouring all in his way, but especially
women and children. They caught him at last, and he was
burned at Sartilly, protesting his innocence all the time."
That night Lucille and I slept together for the last time.
Her jealousy was quite overcome for the time, and we
promised that we would always be good friends, and built
many castles in the air on the basis of that future
friendship. She was a girl of strong character in some
respects, and of great talents, but she had one fault which
made her and those about her very uncomfortable at times,
and which came near working her utter ruin. It is not likely
that she will ever see these memoirs, but if she should do
so, she would not be hurt by them. The fires of affliction
which she has passed through have burned up the dross of
her character, and little is left but pure gold.
"We must take orders for some dresses for our young
lady, Grace," said my mother, speaking French. "Will you
see what we have for her?"