Prior to invite you to read the new chapter of my story, I want to say a few words for those who stood by me these days, even on livejournal. And 'no point in making all the names, I would like to adopt a general thanksgiving, and the peaceful is still far from my life, but sooner or later have to come back and thank those who made me understand: It can not rain forever. And now, good reading friends!
The wind whistled impressive among the treetops, announcing the beginning of a new autumn. The leaves, dried and yellowed branches slid elegantly waving and dancing in the air, before dying on the damp ground.
"Phil, please, do not make me run ... I no longer have the breath of a girl ... please stop! "
Clotilde, the full skirt and short of breath, chased Jan Philippe, the heir of the family de Bricherat.
The years began to be felt, and the Mistress of Elelonor, has become the guardian of the child, for too many years had passed, in order to keep up a brisk frugoletto like him.
"Now I'll show you!" She said picking up and throwing it in the air:
was clear that the little Jan Philippe, with her, was very gay, very much. They spent the afternoon together, and although it was still very young, the link that was establishing seemed to be unbreakable.
"Madame Clotilde, but what does it do? A lady as she begins to mountain goats in the garden! "A shrill voice broke a little picture to say the least curious. The woman turned sketching a bow: the voice belonged to the Duke, during which he used to spend the afternoon in the Town House lawn to stretch a bit 'legs.
Clotilde looked up again he approached the duke sent to Philippe: since the child was born, as he was younger, especially, seemed to be able to find a reason to go on living without wallow in grief at the death his daughter, Lisette.
Not that he lacked - or was never failed - something in life, indeed, the duke was certainly one of the richest lords of the Vendee, and also one of the most respected people, and respect that led to Pierre de Bricherat, had nothing to do with the awe that characterize other families of France.
was an honest, noble and humble, despite the oxymoron it might seem inappropriate at this time, and, more honorable, had given employment to most of those poor people who lost everything during the Revolution.
But that wealth did not make happiness, it was very clear to Clotilde, who had lived for years in that house and had witnessed the moral collapse of the Duke when his wife, a former prostitute, originally from South America, leaving him with two children and the plight of the genocide in Vendée, to reach his homeland.
This was one of the many blows that Monsieur de Bricherat had to cash out with firmness and apparent serenity, and to ensure stability and Francois Lisette, her two children, both to maintain balance the financial and political control of the situation.
At that time, in fact, was not so hard to find in the middle of a road because of bad speculation: the civil wars that had affected the Vendee and neighboring departments against the government, had caused cracks in the very large companies, and over the looting and mass murder in almost inexplicable, there were often small coup against the last houses left standing to level the plight of the country.
The difficulty of the Duke to keep the reins of his family firm grew exponentially when she had to accept the death of Lisette.
After this unfortunate event, he had suffered from a great loneliness, and Clotilde was the only real witness of the severe depression of the noble did not get up out of bed more and played no part in the meetings of the nobility, refused every invitation to dinner and sometimes even annoyed when she pulled up the curtains to let some 'light.
Nothing was able to wake him from his apathy, until his eyes, a warm evening in the summer, they met for the first time those of his nephew, Jan Philippe. Clotilde was the same to bring the little room of the Duke, and after some initial stiffness that had been feared that the Duke had lost any sense of humanity and sensitivity, was heartened to see him soon in a new light in his eyes, a glimmer of hope.
's what it was Phil, a real godsend, a real glimmer of hope.
"If they only knew ..." whispered Madame Clotilde.
"What we need to know," asked the duke, who had just approached the small holding in her arms. "There's something wrong, dear?" He continued.
"Damn me and my big mouth!" Thought Mrs..
He said, "I said, Duke, you should know by now that the baby should make his snack!"
Thus, they entered the house, and this time, Clotilde, was saved.
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