The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"Only a line or two, madame," and she repeated a few lines, which my mother recognized instantly. "Why, that is the beginning of the 'Noble Lesson,' one of the most honored symbols of the Vaudois!" said she. "My husband could repeat it from end to end, and so can I, if I have not forgotten."

And she repeated a number of lines in the same language which is that still spoken in the Vaudois vales, and to some extent in Provence. I never saw any one more delighted than our poor little lady-in-waiting at this unexpected discovery. She had always liked my mother and me, but now she seemed ready to kiss the very hem of our garments. She showed us the little golden dove she had worn around her neck. It seemed as if made to open, but we could not find the way to do it. My mother said a dove in silver or gold was a very common ornament among the Protestants of Provence and Languedoc, to some family of which she now believed Dinah to belong.

Of course this discovery bound us all the more closely together. Jeanne was delighted, and would fain have recalled for Dinah's benefit her native tongue, but Dinah could only remember the few words she had repeated to us.

That afternoon my mother would go down to the shore and see the poor fishermen's families, several of whom lived at the entrance of the Coombe. We found them rude enough in their manner of living, of course, but courteous, and pleased with our visit, especially old Dame Madge, who had known my mother when a girl, and who was vehement in her expressions of delight at having her so near.

"But, do tell, madame; is it true that you have taken Dinah to be your waiting-woman?"

"Quite true. Why not?" asked my mother. "She is most skilful with her needle, and well bred, and I think myself fortunate in keeping her about me."

"And do you think then, madame, that she is a natural-born woman, and no sea-maid? They say down here that she can go back into the sea whenever she pleases and bring back the finest fish. Why, my son-in-law—and a fine good lad he is, and like an own son to me, though my poor daughter, his wife, only lived with him four years before she died of a waste—my son-in-law says that she once asked him for some fish for her father, as she called him. And Ben said he had none, but if the old gentleman was ill and fancied fish, he would go out and try what he could do, and she thanked him and said he was very kind; and if you will believe me, madame, though he had had the worst of luck for ever so long, that night he had the best catch ever he made. I can tell you, we were all ready to please Dinah after that. And she knows more about herbs than any one I ever saw—more than she ought, some think—though she says she learned it all out of a book she has. Never was anything like the medicine she made for my poor child's cough."

"It seems, then, that she uses her knowledge to good purpose," said my mother, smiling. "No, dame, I do not think her a sea-dame, but the child of some one-wrecked upon the coast."

"Ah, well, no doubt you know best, madame. Anyhow, she does naught but good that we know on, and 'tis best to be on the right side of such creatures."

We went next to visit Anne Barker, who was a widow with two daughters, one of whom was lame and confined to her bed and chair, while the other was one of the best girls in Margaret's school. We found the poor thing—Lois was her name—sitting up in her great three-cornered chair, trying to knit with two slender pegs which she had made from wood. She had partly learned the stitch from her sister, and was succeeding but indifferent well. I at once sat down by her and began to give her instruction, and she soon mastered the stitch, to her great delight.