“What is it, Marie Josephine?” she asked, and as she spoke the governess rose from her chair and came up to her.
“What do you mean, Le Pont dear? What is what?” Marie Josephine said gently, and she put her arm around Madame Le Pont’s waist and placed her cheek close to hers for a moment. There was something so wistful in the action that the governess felt sudden tears springing to her eyes.
“You are different in some way, chérie. You seem so—what shall I say—so very much a woman to-night.” Madame le Pont smiled as she spoke, for she knew that her remark would please her pupil greatly. She was surprised at Marie Josephine’s reply.
“I was just thinking about that to-night—being a woman, I mean. I was wondering how it might have been”—her voice trembled a little as she spoke—“if we’d just gone on as we were, here and in Paris; if there hadn’t been a revolution, and just the same everyday things had continued to happen. I was wondering what kind of a ball I should have attended for my first one, and if I should have been a belle!”
“You would have been as lovely as your Great-aunt Hortense when she was belle of Versailles,” put in Cécile from her seat by the fire.
“You mean she will be. You speak as though all this were going on forever, Cécile,” said Hortense, fastening back a long curl with her tortoise-shell comb.
“Let’s dance, Spitfire,” suggested Bertran, sliding across the room to her.
Marie Josephine nodded. “Yes, I would like to dance. Will you play for us, Cécile?”
Cécile stood up and went over to the spinnet.
“I’d love to play. See if you can do a gavotte to the shepherd song I was trying yesterday. Do open the jalousie, Bertran, the moon is trying to shine in,” she said, seating herself at the old spinnet which had helped them all to while away the long evenings during the winter. Cécile needed all her courage these days, for the governess talked more freely to her than to the others, and she knew that things were coming to a serious pass at Les Vignes. The men on the place were leaving for the army. Most of them had already gone. There would be no one to till the ground. There was no one on whom they could rely, now that Dian had gone, except Neville, and his only idea of helping was to go again to Paris. Dian had gone and they had had no word. Neville must not leave them.