Anegay! where had Belasez heard that name before? It belonged to no friend or relative, so far as she knew. Yet that she had heard it before, and that in interesting connection with something, she was absolutely certain.
Belasez dropped asleep while she was thinking. It seemed to her that hardly a minute passed before she woke again, to hear her mother moving in the next room, and to see full daylight streaming in at the window.
And suddenly, just as she awoke, it rushed upon her when and how she had heard of Anegay.
She saw herself, a little child, standing by the side of Licorice. With them was old Belya, the mother of Hamon, and before them stood an enormous illuminated volume at which they were looking. Belasez found it impossible to remember what had been said by Belya; but her mother’s response was as vivid in her mind as if the whole scene were of yesterday.
“Hush! The child must not know. Yes, Belya, thou art right. That was taken from Anegay’s face.”
What was it that was taken? And dimly before Belasez’s mental eyes a picture seemed to grow, in which a king upon his throne, and a woman fainting, were the principal figures. Esther before Ahasuerus!
That was it, of course. And Belasez sprang up, with a determination to search through her father’s books, and to find the picture which had been taken from Anegay’s face.
But, after all, who was Anegay?
Licorice was in full tide of business and porridge-making, in her little kitchen, when Belasez presented herself with an apology for being late.
“Nay, folks that go to bed at nine may well not rise till five,” said Licorice, graciously. “Throw more salt in here, child, and fetch the porringers whilst I stir it. Call thy father and Delecresse,—breakfast will be ready by the time they are.”