Author Description

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1875 Excerpt: ... woman, lifting from the table a bulging package, evidently containing all the child's possessions, and yet not too heavy for her small strength. She took it in her hand, and then, putting out the other with an air of infinite graciousness, she said--"Adieu, madame, and thank you." Perhaps the portress might have been surprised at this formal farewell had she given a thought to the child, but a bustle and confusion were heard below, and she ran off hastily to receive the new occupants. The child followed slowly, going step by step down the long stairs, as if she regretted and loved her wretched home. On the first floor there were noise and confusion such as only French tongues can make. The little girl, as she passed the chattering group unnoticed--the fine lady with her fan and parrot and little mirror; the gentleman gesticulating and scolding his lackeys,--looked at them with a strange, grave sadness. The logs were crackling merrily on the portress's hearth, but the child did not even pause at the open door; she walked straight forth under the arch of the gateway, where the wind blew about her tattered brocade, and then out into the open street itself. That black north-east wind, which often blows in Paris, was making a second winter of the spring, but the little maid walked forth alone on her aimless course. Not fourteen days before, her mother had been carried dead, from that poor home--her widowed mother, whose grace and beauty seemed to the child without a parallel. Lucie Lemeunier scarcely realised the goodness of the people who had fed and sheltered her during that weary time of bereavement: the ignorance and unconscious selfishness of childhood seldom permit of gratitude for our "daily bread;" but now the innate pride of the lit...