Mistress of the Revolution by Catherine Delors Read Free Book Online

will fancy. What is sure is that she has not a high opinion of me. She finds me stupid.”
    “A deplorable lack of judgment.”
    “Unfortunately not. I was taken from the convent at the age of eleven and have not studied anything since. If you knew me better, you would be amazed at my ignorance.”
    He smiled. “At the very least, your humility should disarm criticism. I find you anything but stupid. If you were, you would not be aware of the deficiencies of your education. You seem very young and—”
    “I will turn fifteen in less than three weeks,” I interrupted, frowning.
    “I am sorry to have offended you. But even if you had already reached the ripe age of fifteen, I would still consider you very young. You will, no doubt, have many opportunities to improve your mind as you grow up. You will read, you will travel, you will mingle in society. I wish more attention were paid to the schooling of young ladies. My late mother, who was the daughter of a mere bourgeois, remained in a convent in Aurillac until she was married at the age of eighteen. It is a pity your family did not value your education more.”
    “I did not mean any reflection on them,” I said. “My brother has always been very kind to me.”
    “He obviously leaves you free to go wherever you want on your own. If I had a sister so young and delightful as you, I would be less kind and a bit more watchful.”
    I coloured at that criticism of the Marquis.
    “Yet,” Pierre-André added, “I should be the last person to complain about it. I might never have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance otherwise.”
    “Usually my brother rides with me, although we do not come here together. It is only lately that he has been away in Limousin.”
    “Does he know that, in his absence, you come here to bathe in front of strangers?”
    I stopped walking and looked straight at Pierre-André. “It is very rude of you to ask such a question.”
    “Please forgive me. I seem perversely determined to sink myself in your opinion. You should slap me for my insolence. I deserve it.”
    “You do, but I would never strike another. My mother often slaps me and I do not like it at all.”
    “My rudeness will then remain unpunished, which makes me feel my guilt still more. My sole excuse, if I may claim any, is that I do not like the idea of another man finding you here in your chemise.”
    I resumed walking. “You need not worry. I have come here for years without meeting anyone. That is why you startled me the other day. You reminded me of the poem ‘The Wolf and the Lamb,’ by La Fontaine. The nuns made me learn it by rote at the convent.”
    “Rather unflattering for me, and most unfair. If my memory serves me well, the wolf in that story, after finding the lamb drinking in the middle of the river, falsely accuses it of muddying the waters and devours the defenseless animal. I was less fierce and let you escape unscathed. I did not leave a single toothmark on you.”
    I laughed. “It was only when I first saw you that you reminded me of the wolf. I do not believe now that you would harm me.”
    “You are right, all the more so because you trust me, but you might have made a less fortunate encounter.”
    “I am afraid of no one.”
    “Are you sure?”
    I hesitated. “Well, maybe it was a silly thing to say.”
    “It simply reflects your lack of experience. May life never teach you otherwise.”
    “Has it taught you otherwise?”
    “In some ways. I learned much in medical school.”
    “How did you like it? Oh, I envy you. You are so fortunate to have lived in great cities. I know next to nothing of them. I am eager to see other places but have never been more than ten leagues from Fontfreyde. Please tell me all about Paris.”
    He obliged. He spoke well and I could picture unknown places and people as he described them. I had never been so well entertained in anyone’s company and did not like to rush home later that afternoon. I told him,