On the contrary, a life of stern austerity awaited our unfortunate comrade. To attend the failing hours of a person undoubtedly “born” (i.e., well-bred), but of an age transcending that of the everlasting hills; was that, Jacqueline asked, a smiling prospect?
“And what relation, mesdemoiselles, was the elder of these two to the younger?” asked Professor Arnoult in his calm, sonorous voice.
“Great-aunt!” promptly answered Stephanie.
“Grandmother!” cried Vivette.
“How then? Behold what would be of singularity indeed! My young ladies are apparently not aware that I am speaking of King Louis XI and the Duke of Burgundy, surnamed Charles the Bold. They were cousins, but in what degree? Ah! at the good hour, behold Mademoiselle Honor!”
Here was Honor indeed, very pale, and with dark circles round her eyes, but quiet and composed. She could not fail her dear old Professor. She was the only one who really loved history, and he knew it. Amid suppressed titters, she straightened out the relationship between the two princes, related briefly but clearly the principal events of Louis’ reign, and wound up with the comment of Philippe de Comines (with which she wholly disagreed)—“in fine, for a prince, not so bad!”
The Professor’s face, which before her entrance had exhibited a network of puzzled and exasperated wrinkles, relaxed into its usual calm benignity.
“Behold a recital of the highest order!” he declared. “I take heartfelt pleasure in marking it A.”
Honor thanked him in what she tried to make a cheerful tone. It was not easy, when her heart was beating the refrain: “It is the last time; the last, last time!”
As a matter of fact, this was not the last history lesson. After much agitated thought, Madame and Soeur Séraphine had written a joint note to Mrs. Damian, beseeching that, if it were possible, their beloved pupil might remain long enough to take part in the closing exercises of the school. It was now the first of June. Two little weeks, and Honor could not only finish her course for the year, but could take part in those exercises of which she could hardly fail to be the brightest ornament. If Mrs. Damian would in her graciousness permit this delay—