'Yes, Maria, and when you came to the apartment where the King was dining ...'
'Oh, Frances, what a disgrace! There we were close to the rope which held us back. Papa had brought me to stand ia front of him so that I could see everything.'
'And the King of France ...'
'Is a very old man, Frances. The Dauphin is his grandson. He is not nearly so handsome as his grandfather, for although the King is so old you know just by looking at him that he is a
king. But the Dauphin's wife is lovely. She is like a fairy. I saw them together. She is Austrian.'
'Where Papa served in the Army,' said Frances. 'I wonder if he saw her there.'
'I doubt it. But I was telling you about the King at dinner. Well, Frances, his servants brought in a chicken. They kneel before him when they serve him; and he is so fastidious, with the most beautiful white hands sparkling with diamonds, and suddenly he picked up a chicken and tore it apart with his hands. Oh, Frances, it seemed to me so funny.'
'Go on, Maria. Go on.'
'There was silence. Everyone was watching the King and suddenly ... I laughed. I laughed out loud and I could not stop laughing, Frances, because for some silly reason it seemed so funny.'
'Yes, yes?'
'And the King said to the* man who was serving him, "Who is that laughing?" And Papa held my hand very tightly and I stopped laughing for the man came right over to where I was standing. He said: "Who are you and what is your name?" Papa was about to speak and I thought: No. I will not let Papa take the blame. So I said very loudly and very quickly. "I am Maria Smythe, an English girl from the Conception Convent in the Faubourg St. Antoine. It was I who laughed at the King."' Maria became convulsed with laughter in which joined Frances, temporarily forgetting the imminent parting. 'Oh, Frances, the ceremony! It has to be seen to be believed. The King went on eating his chicken as though nothing had happened, and I stood there shivering, thinking that I should be carried off to prison and wondering what it was like living in a cell in the Bastille or the Conciergerie. I watched the man bowing and speaking to the King; then he took something from the table and came over to where I stood. I realized how grand he was when he spoke. "Mademoiselle, I, the'Due de Soubise, have the honour to present to you His Majesty's compliments. His Majesty wishes you to do him the honour of accepting this gift which he hopes will amuse you." He then presented me with a silver dish.'
'Which you still have,' said Frances.
Maria nodded. 'And which/ she went on, 'was full of sugar plums.'
'Show me the dish, Maria.'
Maria went to the bag which was already packed and took out a beautiful dish of silver on which a delicate pattern was traced.
'It's lovely,' cried Frances. 'And you had it just for laughing. It's a royal gift, Maria. The first royal gift you have ever had.'
'And the last, I dareswear,' said Maria lightly. 'But it is a lovely dish and I still laugh when I see it. And I envy you, Frances, to stay in Paris, for how I love Paris! I love it in the mornings when it is just beginning to wake up and there is an air of excitement everywhere and the streets are rilled with the smells of cooking and the shops open and people are all scuttling about in the excited way they have. You can't help catching the excitement. Brambridge seems very dull in comparison.'
'Brambridge is dull,' admitted Frances. 'The only excitement is going to Mass.'
'So that is the same, is it. Do they still lock the door of the chapel when Mass is celebrated?'
'Yes. And apart from that it is all so quiet. Lessons every day and a little riding in the park and we don't know many people because most of our neighbours are Protestants and Mamma and Papa won't allow us to know them.'
It was Maria's turn to be mournful. 'Oh, lucky Frances!' she sighed.
A happy phase of her life was over; a new one was about to begin. She would have to learn to adjust herself to life at home as she had in Paris—and at least she had succeeded in comforting Frances.
The house in Brambridge seemed smaller than she had been imagining it. Perhaps, she thought wryly, she had compared it with Versailles. On the journey back they had passed through London and an excitement had touched her then, for the capital city reminded her of Paris. Perhaps this was because in
Paris there had been a craze for all things English and the Parisians had been copying the English style of dress ... masculine of course. The men wore severely cut coats and white cravats and riding boots; and shops were advertising le the as drunk in England. Maria had felt excited by the big city, but of course they could not linger there. And when they had at length arrived in the beautiful county of Hampshire and passed through Winchester on the way to Brambridge and the carriage took them up the avenue of limes she felt a certain emotion, for this after all was home. Yet she did remember that the Mother Superior had embraced her with affection when she had left and had told her that if ever she wished to return to the Blew Nuns there would always be a welcome for her, implying that Maria Smythe would always remain one of the favourite pupils.
There was the house—a country mansion, the home of a squire and his family. Mamma was waiting to welcome her and embraced her, then held her at arms' length. 'Let me look at you, Maria. Why, how you have grown! Who would have thought that this was my little Maria?'
'Oh, Mamma, it is so good to see you.'
'And you have been happy with the Nuns?'
'They were very kind to me.'
Mary Smythe smiled. Who would not be good to this charming young creature? How wise they had been to send her away. She had poise and charm and of course she spoke French like a native. Consequently they had a beautiful, intelligent and educated girl to launch on society.
'Come into the house, daughter. You will have forgotten what it looks like after all this time.'
Arm in arm, mother and daughter entered the house and there were the boys waiting to give her a boisterous greeting.
'Be careful, boys,' cried their father, 'you will harm Marias Paris coiffure.'
John reached up and tried to pull down the golden hair which was piled high on Maria's head.
She jerked away from him, laughing. 'We all have to wear it high because Madame la Dauphine has a high forehead and wears hers so. It's the fashion.'
'And a most becoming one,' said Mary.
'I'm so pleased you approve, Mamma.'
'Come, my dearest, to your room. I have had a larger one prepared for you. It overlooks the lime avenue. I trust you will like it.'
'Oh, Mamma, I am happy to be home.'
'I feared that you would not wish to leave the nuns.'
'Nor did I. But I wanted to be home, too/
'You are fortunate, my dear, to have so much that you enjoy. I hope Frances will feel the same.'
'But of course she must, Mamma.'
Mary smiled, well pleased with her daughter. The boys were merry but inclined to be too boisterous and a little selfish. And Frances? Well, they would see. But perhaps there was only one Maria.
Later Walter and Mary discussed their daughter.
'She is charming,' said Mary. 'And a beauty. Her hair is quite lovely and her eyes ... that lovely hazel colour! Her complexion is quite perfect. It is like rose petals.'
'You are a fond mother.'
'Can you deny what I have said?'
'She has my nose. It would have been better if she had yours.'
'What nonsense! It adds character to her face. I think an aquiline nose is so attractive. Without it she would be insipid.'
'You are determined to eulogize your daughter, Madam.'
'Well, Sir, tell me if you can see one fault in her.'