My son should have been too proud to have
eaten bread at a table where his hand was thought unclean, or to have
accepted favours, where he dared not look for love."
"You are unjust to Cathelineau," replied Agatha. "You are in every way
unjust, both to your son and to me. He accepted no favour from us, but
he did--but he did look--" and she paused, as though she still lacked
courage to speak the words which were on her tongue, but after a moment
she went on and said, "he did look for love, and he did not look in
vain."
"He did love, do you say, and not in vain! He did love, and made his
love acceptable to one of those fine flaunting ladies who sit at ease
all day, twirling a few bits of silk with their small white hands. Do
you say such a one as that loved Cathelineau! Who was she? What is her
name? Where is she?"
"She is close to you now," said Agatha, sitting down on a low stool at
the old woman's feet. "I told you her name a while since. It is I who
loved your son: I, Agatha Larochejaquelin.
Pages:
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743