The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"Lucille, you know better," I answered indignantly; "but I see you don't want anything of me, so I shall go home again, as you say Mother Jeanne is busy."

And gathering up my basket and laying down the distaff in Lucille's lap, I rose to depart, though I trembled so much with excitement and indignation that I could hardly stand.

Lucille looked at me in surprise, for in our ordinary quarrels, I grew cool as she grew angry, and vice versâ.

"Don't go, Vevette. I ought not to have spoken so. I did not half mean it, but I am so very, very unhappy."

As she spoke, she hid her face and burst into a flood of tears and sobs.

I sat down again, knowing from experience that when she recovered from her crying fit, her bad mood would be gone for that day.

So it proved. After sobbing a long time, she wiped her eyes and made a great effort to compose herself.

"I am sorry I was so cross," said she; "but I am so unhappy. There is so much that I cannot understand. Why should you be the heiress of d'Antin and I only a poor farmer's daughter? Why should you learn music and English and dress in silk, while I wear homespun and tend sheep, and come and go at everybody's call? Why should our enemies triumph and eat us up like bread, and live in all sorts of luxury, while we are poor and trodden down like the mire in the streets, and our Master never put forth a hand to help us? We give up everything for him, and he lets us be beaten on every side, and gives us nothing but promises—promises for another world, from which nobody has come back to tell us anything. No, I don't understand it."

Lucille spoke with a fire and passion compared to which her former vehemence was nothing.

I had never thought of these things—never dreamed of questioning anything that was taught me. Indeed, I believe I had been too full of dreams to think at all. I was stricken dumb before her at first, but as she gazed at me with her dark eyes like sombre flames, I felt I must say something, so I gave the only answer that occurred to me—the only one indeed that I have ever found.