"
Dame Rochelle put on her spectacles to cover her eyes, which were
fast filling, as she glanced down on the black robe she wore,
remembering for whom she wore it.
"Thanks, master. It would be a blessed thing to end the remaining
days of my mourning in the house of Pierre and Amelie, but my quiet
mood suits better the house of my master, who has also had his heart
saddened by a long, long day of darkness and regret."
"Yes, dame, but a bright sunset, I trust, awaits it now. The
descending shadow of the dial goes back a pace on the fortunes of my
house! I hope to welcome my few remaining years with a gayer aspect
and a lighter heart than I have felt since we were driven from
France. What would you say to see us all reunited once more in our
old Norman home?"
The dame gave a great start, and clasped her thin hands.
"What would I say, master? Oh, to return to France, and be buried
in the green valley of the Cote d'Or by the side of him, were next
to rising in the resurrection of the just at the last day."
The Bourgeois knew well whom she meant by "him.
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