Winifred, who had been playing about the
garden with Mademoiselle and the dogs, came flitting towards Gudrun.
The child wore a dress of black-and-white stripes. Her hair was rather
short, cut round and hanging level in her neck.
'We're going to do Bismarck, aren't we?' she said, linking her hand
through Gudrun's arm.
'Yes, we're going to do Bismarck. Do you want to?'
'Oh yes-oh I do! I want most awfully to do Bismarck. He looks SO
splendid this morning, so FIERCE. He's almost as big as a lion.' And
the child chuckled sardonically at her own hyperbole. 'He's a real
king, he really is.'
'Bon jour, Mademoiselle,' said the little French governess, wavering up
with a slight bow, a bow of the sort that Gudrun loathed, insolent.
'Winifred veut tant faire le portrait de Bismarck-! Oh, mais toute la
matinee-"We will do Bismarck this morning!"-Bismarck, Bismarck,
toujours Bismarck! C'est un lapin, n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?'
'Oui, c'est un grand lapin blanc et noir. Vous ne l'avez pas vu?' said
Gudrun in her good, but rather heavy French.
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