Madame Gremond has promised them one of the outhouses which they can turn into a cottage. Gaston is clever with his hands.”
Again I repeated my warning: “Do you think you gossip too much with Jeanne?”
“Why should I not talk to her? It passes the time.”
“We shall have Madame Gremond complaining that she chats with you instead of working.”
“Madame Gremond is anxious to make us comfortable, I think.”
“I wonder why we have been sent to her.”
My father arranged it. “
“Do you think she is or might have been a friend of his?”
Margot lifted her shoulders.
“That may be. He has many friends.”
I used to wake to the sunshine in the morning and pull up the blinds which were at all the windows, for the sun could be fierce. I would look out on to the garden, the smooth lawn, the wicker seats under the sycamore tree, the pond in which the birds bathed. It was a scene of utter peace.
During the first weeks we often took a walk through the town where we would shop for what we wanted. We became known as Madame Ie Brun, the very young widow who had suffered a great tragedy-when she had lost the husband who would never see his child, and the English cousin. I knew they gossiped about us; sometimes they would barely wait for us to leave the shop. Of course, our coming was an event in the quietness of Petit Montlys, and I sometimes doubted the Comte’s wisdom in sending us here. Whereas we might have been lost in a larger town, here we were the focus of attention.
Sometimes we did a little shopping for Madame Gremond, and I enjoyed buying the hot loaves which came straight from the glowing oven set in the wall. The baker drew them out with his long tongs and displayed them for us to select those which most appealed to us. Slack baked, well baked, medium baked, you took your choice. And what delicious bread it was!
Then we would stroll through the market which took place every Wednesday, and on those days the peasants would come in from the surrounding country, their produce laden on donkeys, and set up in the market square. The housewives of Petit Montlys drove a hard bargain with them and I liked to listen to the haggling. We so much enjoyed the market that we asked Madame Gremond to let us shop for her there too. Sometimes Jeanne or Emilie would come with us because she said the peasants put up prices when they saw the sad widow and her English cousin.
By the end of June we both felt that we had been in Petit Montlys for months. Sometimes the strangeness of it all would strike me, for my life had changed so drastically. Only this time last year my mother had been alive and I had had no idea that I would ever do anything but continue with the teaching career she had planned for me.
Each day seemed very like the last and there was nothing like this peaceful pleasant monotony to make the time slip by unheeded.
Margot’s condition was now noticeable. We made full, ;
loose garments for her and she would laugh at her reflection. 1 “Who would ever have believed could look like this?” j Who would have believed you could have allowed yourself | to,” I countered. | Trust the prim and proper English cousin to point that out. | Oh, Minelle, I do love you, you know. I love that astringent, way of yours . taking me down when I need it. It has not the slightest effect on me but I love it.” i “Margot,” I said, ‘sometimes I think you should be a little;’ more serious. ” } Her face puckered suddenly.p>
“No, please don’t ask me to. It’s the baby, Minelle. Now that it’s moving, it seems to be;
real. It seems to be alive. “
It is real. It is alive. It always has been. ” ,;
I know. But now it’s a person. What will happen when;
it’s born? “
“Your father explained. It will be sent away. It will havej a foster mother.”
“And I shall never see it again.”
“You know that is what is intended.”
“It seemed an easy solution then, but lately … Well Minelle, I’m
Again I repeated my warning: “Do you think you gossip too much with Jeanne?”
“Why should I not talk to her? It passes the time.”
“We shall have Madame Gremond complaining that she chats with you instead of working.”
“Madame Gremond is anxious to make us comfortable, I think.”
“I wonder why we have been sent to her.”
My father arranged it. “
“Do you think she is or might have been a friend of his?”
Margot lifted her shoulders.
“That may be. He has many friends.”
I used to wake to the sunshine in the morning and pull up the blinds which were at all the windows, for the sun could be fierce. I would look out on to the garden, the smooth lawn, the wicker seats under the sycamore tree, the pond in which the birds bathed. It was a scene of utter peace.
During the first weeks we often took a walk through the town where we would shop for what we wanted. We became known as Madame Ie Brun, the very young widow who had suffered a great tragedy-when she had lost the husband who would never see his child, and the English cousin. I knew they gossiped about us; sometimes they would barely wait for us to leave the shop. Of course, our coming was an event in the quietness of Petit Montlys, and I sometimes doubted the Comte’s wisdom in sending us here. Whereas we might have been lost in a larger town, here we were the focus of attention.
Sometimes we did a little shopping for Madame Gremond, and I enjoyed buying the hot loaves which came straight from the glowing oven set in the wall. The baker drew them out with his long tongs and displayed them for us to select those which most appealed to us. Slack baked, well baked, medium baked, you took your choice. And what delicious bread it was!
Then we would stroll through the market which took place every Wednesday, and on those days the peasants would come in from the surrounding country, their produce laden on donkeys, and set up in the market square. The housewives of Petit Montlys drove a hard bargain with them and I liked to listen to the haggling. We so much enjoyed the market that we asked Madame Gremond to let us shop for her there too. Sometimes Jeanne or Emilie would come with us because she said the peasants put up prices when they saw the sad widow and her English cousin.
By the end of June we both felt that we had been in Petit Montlys for months. Sometimes the strangeness of it all would strike me, for my life had changed so drastically. Only this time last year my mother had been alive and I had had no idea that I would ever do anything but continue with the teaching career she had planned for me.
Each day seemed very like the last and there was nothing like this peaceful pleasant monotony to make the time slip by unheeded.
Margot’s condition was now noticeable. We made full, ;
loose garments for her and she would laugh at her reflection. 1 “Who would ever have believed could look like this?” j Who would have believed you could have allowed yourself | to,” I countered. | Trust the prim and proper English cousin to point that out. | Oh, Minelle, I do love you, you know. I love that astringent, way of yours . taking me down when I need it. It has not the slightest effect on me but I love it.” i “Margot,” I said, ‘sometimes I think you should be a little;’ more serious. ” } Her face puckered suddenly.p>
“No, please don’t ask me to. It’s the baby, Minelle. Now that it’s moving, it seems to be;
real. It seems to be alive. “
It is real. It is alive. It always has been. ” ,;
I know. But now it’s a person. What will happen when;
it’s born? “
“Your father explained. It will be sent away. It will havej a foster mother.”
“And I shall never see it again.”
“You know that is what is intended.”
“It seemed an easy solution then, but lately … Well Minelle, I’m
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