The Argosy — page 235: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Lady of St. Cyr. 223 almost dreamed, ma tante, that she must be noble ; and even now, do not her features recall some that we see every day?” Madame de Maintenon reflected with a kindly smile, and then asked, “Do you know your mother’s maiden name, my child?” ‘‘ Marie de Ste. Barbe, madame.” “De Ste. Barbe!” cried both, in deep excitement. ‘ Has the Duke de Ste. Barbe permitted that a member of his family should die in want, and leave an orphan child in such distress?” cried the young duchess. ‘ He is an inexorable man,” replied the other. ‘But we will protect this poor child ; she shall not die of hunger.” “T will take her to St. Cyr,”# replied the elder lady. ‘She shall find an asylum there from a cold and heartless world. Will you come with me, little one, and learn to be a lady such as your mother would have desired to see you?” The httle Lucie looked up with the utmost confidence into the grave, sweet face abave her. “TI will go with you, madame, wherever you are good enough to take me,” she said ; and so the compact was made. * * * ® * Seven years had passed. In a large hall which it was easy to see was used for scholastic purposes, but now decorated with fresh flowers, gayends, and banners, sat the greatest monarch of his time—his cour- tiers would have said of any time. The gracious ‘dignity of Louis Quatorze was never more perfect, never more urbane than now. The powder from his heavy curling wig made a little snow-fall on his velvet shoulders ; the diamonds on his breast were as a sparkle of fall- ing waters. Beside him sat Madame de Maintenon, with a trifle more severity on her countenance, a few more wrinkles, yet a careful smile of mingled tenderness and reverence as she addressed the king, and a smile more bright and less careful as she looked at the scene before her. On a raised platform a drama was being enacted. ‘The actors were young girls, clad in a prim and simple dress of brown, with a quaint high cap of muslin, bound with a blue ribbon. In the midst stood one taller than the rest, and with a queenly grace she had spoken : ‘‘ Mes filles, chantez-vous quelqu’un de ces cantiques Ou vos voix si souvent, se mélant 4 mes pleurs, De la triste Sion célebrent les malheurs.” It was the dolorous Queen Esther who was commanding her young companions to sing her one of the songs of Zion. In response, a maiden came forward, the song of Zion sounding perhaps rather strangely from under that tall prim cap. But the sweet * The House of St. Cyr, near Versailles, was founded by Madame de Maintenon, as a school for poor girls of good birth. They were called ‘‘ Les Dames de St. Cyr.” COMIC OOKS.EO _