Plague the children, and you will see
that that will make the Austrian pliable."
"That is fine talk," muttered Tison, as she went up the staircase,
"but she has no children, while I have a daughter, a dear, good
daughter. She is not with me, but with my mother in Normandy,
because she can be taken better care of there than here. It is
better for the good child that she has not gone through these evil
days full of blood and grief with us. But I am always thinking of
her, and when one of these two children here looks up to me so
gravely with great, open eyes, it always makes me think of my
Solonge. She has exactly such large, innocent eyes, and that touches
my heart so that I cannot be harsh with the children. They, of
course, are not at all to blame for having such bad, miserable
parents, who have treated the people shamefully, and made them poor
and wretched. No, they have had nothing to do with it, and I cannot
be severe with the children, for I am always thinking of my little
Solonge! I will provoke the Austrian woman as much as I can, but not
the children--no, not the children!"
Meanwhile, Mistress Simon had taken her place upon the chair near
the open door in the porter's lodge, and sat there with her cold,
immovable face staring into empty space with her great coal-black,
glistening eyes, while her hands were busily flying, making the
polished knitting-needles click against each other.
Pages:
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577