Grandmother Dear | Page 8

Mrs Molesworth
For one thing we can speak French
ever such a great deal better than you."
"And then there are two of us. If one of us was lost, grandmother and
aunty could hold out the other one as a pattern, and say, 'I want a match
for this,'" said Sylvia laughing, and a little eager to prevent the
impending skirmish between Ralph and Molly.
"Hush, children, you really mustn't chatter so," said aunty. "Use your
eyes, and let your tongues, poor things, rest for a little."
They got on very happily. Aunty managed to show the children the
special picture or pictures each had most wanted to see--including the
"beautiful blue and orange" one of Molly's recollection. She nearly
screamed with delight when she saw "how like it was to the one in
papa's study," but took in good part Ralph's cynical observation that a
thing that was copied from another was generally supposed to be "like"
the original.
Only Sylvia was a little disappointed when, after looking at the pictures
in one of the smaller rooms--a room in no way peculiar or remarkable
as differing from the others--they suddenly discovered that they were in
the famous "Salle Henri II.," where Henry the Fourth was killed!
"I didn't think it would be like this," said Sylvia lugubriously. "Why do
they call it 'Salle Henri II.?' It should be called after Henry the Fourth;
and I don't think it should have pictures in, and be just like a common
room."

"What would you have it? Hung round with black and tapers burning?"
said her aunt.
"I don't know--any way I thought it would have had old tapestry," said
Sylvia. "I should like it to have been kept just the way it was then."
"Poor Sylvia!" said grandmother. "But we must hurry on, children. We
have not seen the 'Petite Galérie' yet--dear me, how many years it is
since I was in it!--and some of the most beautiful pictures are there."
They passed on--grandmother leaning on aunty's arm--the three
children close behind, through a room called the "Salle des Sept
Cheminées," along a vestibule filled with cases of jewellery, leading
again to one of the great staircases. Something in the vestibule attracted
grandmother's attention, and she stopped for a moment. Sylvia, not
interested in what the others were looking at, turned round and retraced
her steps a few paces by the way they had entered the hall. A thought
had struck her.
"I'd like just to run back for a moment to Henry the Fourth's Room,"
she said to herself. "I want to notice the shape of it exactly, and how
many windows there are, and then I think I can fancy to myself how it
looked then, with the tapestry and all the old-fashioned furniture."
No sooner thought than done. In a moment she was back in the room
which had so curiously fascinated her, taking accurate note of its
features.
"I shall remember it now," she said to herself, after gazing round her
for a minute or two. "Now I must run after grandmother and the others,
or they'll be thinking I am lost."
She turned with a little laugh at the idea, and hastened out of the room,
through the few groups of people standing or moving about, looking at
the pictures--hastened out, expecting in another moment to see the
familiar figures. The room into which she made her way was also filled
with pictures, as had been the one through which she had entered the
"Salle Henri II." She crossed it without misgiving: she had no idea that

she had left the Salle Henri II. by the opposite door from that by which
she had entered it!
Poor little Sylvia, she did not know that grandmother's warning was
actually to be fulfilled. She was "lost in the Louvre!"
CHAPTER III.
"WHERE IS SYLVIA?"
"What called me back? A voice of happy childhood,
"Yet might I not bewail the vision gone, My heart so leapt to that dear
loving tone."
Mrs. HEMANS, "An Hour of Romance."
She did not find out her mistake. She passed through the room and
entered the vestibule into which it led, quite confident that she would
meet the others in an instant. There were several groups standing about
this vestibule as there had been in the other, but none composed of the
figures she was looking for.
"They must have passed on," said Sylvia to herself; "I wish they hadn't;
perhaps they never noticed I wasn't beside them."
Then for the first time a slight feeling of anxiety seized her. She hurried
quickly across the ante-room where she was standing, to find herself in
another "salle," which was quite unlike any of the others she had seen.
Instead of oil-paintings, it was hung round with colourless
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 72
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.