Free Mistress of the Revolution by Catherine Delors

convinced to renew their offer. I scrawled a note to Pierre-André to tell him not to lose hope and ask him to communicate with me through Joséphine. I went to the kitchen and begged her to have it sent to Vic.
    She frowned when she read the direction. “Young Dr. Coffinhal? My goodness, is he a suitor of yours? Is that why his brothers came here today? No wonder Her Ladyship looked so upset.” She looked into the distance. “Remember, when you made me tell your fortune, the first card you drew, that Knight of Swords? You know, that man riding a black horse, his sword drawn.”
    Indeed a few months earlier I had pestered and coaxed Joséphine until she had fetched her deck of tarot cards.
    “Well,” she continued, “your young doctor puts me in mind of the Knight of Swords. He’s clever and resolute. He speaks well. He commands attention wherever he goes. But he can be arrogant, even cruel. Remember what I told you about the Knight: he spells doom for his enemies, and God knows he has many. And remember how he wields his sword, the sword of justice? He will show his foes no mercy, and receive none.”
    “But you said yourself that the cards can be tricky, that they deceive us more often than not.” I kissed her. “Be good, dear Joséphine. Have my note delivered. Please.”
    She thought for a minute and sighed. “All right,” she said. “But you’re a bad girl, and likely to cost me my place.”
     

9
     
    I had hastened to forget about the Baron, but he painfully reminded me of his existence by calling at Fontfreyde the very next day. After the exchange of usual civilities in the drawing room, there was a pause in the conversation. I dared not raise my eyes and did not know what to do with myself. Even my mother, usually not at a loss for words, was silent for a moment before addressing him.
    “Indeed, Sir,” she said, “we are flattered to receive a visit from you so soon after having had the honour of meeting you in Thiézac.”
    “The honour was all mine, dear Madam. I was delighted to make the acquaintance of your youngest daughter. The rumours I had heard of her beauty do not do her justice.”
    “Ah, Sir, you appeal to the feelings of a mother! I must confess that it is a weakness of mine: I am inordinately fond of our Gabrielle. I should not sing my own child’s praises, but I can assure you that you will not find a more dutiful girl in all of Auvergne. She has been given excellent Christian principles. She is a good seamstress too, and she goes to help in the kitchen every day. God knows she has never lacked anything here, but she has not been used to luxury or idleness. She will make a thrifty wife and be content with little, without expecting anything lavish like those young ladies who have been raised with high notions of their own claims.”
    I blushed with shame at this speech.
    “Further, Sir,” my mother added, “you will find that Gabrielle has not been infected with those ideas that too fancy an education gives girls nowadays. The Marquis took her from the convent when she was eleven. She can read, write and count. These are all the accomplishments a noblewoman needs to make her husband happy. My eldest daughter thought that Gabrielle could have stayed in the convent a few years longer, but, as I told her—”
    The Baron interrupted to remark: “I am not in the least surprised, Madam, to learn of my little cousin’s many qualities, but I have yet to hear the sound of her voice.”
    True, I had never uttered a single word in his presence. He was justified in wondering whether I had been endowed with the power of speech.
    “Please forgive her stupidity, Sir,” said my mother in a sharper tone. “The child has the most awkward manners. I cannot apologize enough on her behalf.” She turned to me. “Say something, girl. Speak to our cousin instead of staring at your feet like a simpleton. You may rest assured that you will receive a serious flogging as soon—”
    “Please, dear