MY THEODOSIA by Anya Seton

Author:Anya Seton [Seton, Anya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 1900-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ELEANORE WAS astounded at Madame's behavior that afternoon. She laughed for no reason, she sang, she grabbed the baby and smothered him with kisses, only to put him down and pace through their rooms with a light, dancing step. She seemed unable to keep still. All the languor and lethargy which Eleanore had thought characteristic vanished like smoke.

Strangest of all, when the evening stage from Philadelphia arrived without Monsieur Burr, instead of the sharp disappointment which the maid expected, Madame said nothing at all. She scarcely seemed to understand.

What had caused this extraordinary change? The climate? thought the puzzled Eleanore. But the climate did not make one spend hours before a mirror brushing one's hair and trying new coiffures, did not make one ask with a sudden anguish: 'Am I really pretty, Eleanore? Do I look sallow or old, do you think?'

Old at twenty! The maid laughed as she gave sincere reassurance. Still, it was true that in the Carolinas Madame had looked older than her years. But today her eyes danced, her cheeks were pink, she glowed with a sort of bloom one could almost touch.

Could this transformation come entirely from the expected joy of meeting Monsieur the Vice-President? To be sure, Madame was far more than commonly attached to her father, her devotion was beautiful. But still-

The explanation came at bedtime, as she helped Madame into a loose embroidered nightshift.

Theo twisted suddenly, saying with an embarrassed little laugh, 'Eleanore, were you ever in love?'

Aha! So it's that, thought the maid. Her plain face splintered into a grin. 'Once, Madame. With the butcher's boy in Chinon.'

'Tell me,' commanded Theo. 'Was it——How did you feel?'

'Feel?' The maid chuckled. 'I felt as though my sabots had wings and skimmed of themselves through the streets; that the black bread and soup that I shared with Pierre were changed into delicate food fit for the angels; that all the countryside smiled at me and wished me well—the birds, the river Vienne, even the pigs—all things smiled.'

'Then what happened?'

'Nothing, Madame. Pierre married the daughter of a rich farmer. The pigs and the birds ceased smiling. The wings dropped off my sabots. I came to America.'

'Oh'. Theo was deflated. She was in that state of new love which yearns for a confidant. She felt that she must speak of him. 'Eleanore, this morning I met a man—I have not seen him in three years—but when we saw each other it was like—as you say. Only more—so much more. Not like anything I ever imagined'. Her voice trembled suddenly. 'I think I love him.'

The maid looked troubled. 'Ah, Madame, it happens like that sometimes. Will you—see him again?'

'See him again!' repeated Theodosia slowly. 'How can you asl? me that? I tell you I love him. I could not live if I didn't see him again.'

Eleanore frowned, smoothing her apron. She thought it entirely justifiable that Madame should have une petite liaison, un cavalier, if she wanted one. It was for sure hard on her to

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