Shawl-Straps | Page 9

seemed to enjoy as a relic of early days, and a proof that he would
long be spared to her.
She kept him exquisitely neat, and if anyone gave her a plate of food, a
little snuff, or any small comfort for her patient old age, she took it
straight to the 'master,' and found a double happiness in giving and
seeing him enjoy it.
She had but one eye, her amiable husband having put out the other once
on a time as she was leading him home tipsy from market. The kind
soul bore no malice, and always made light of it when forced to tell
how the affliction befell her.
'My Yvon was so gay in his young days, truly, yes, a fine man, and
now most beautiful to see in his clean bed, with the new pipe that
Mademoiselle sent him. Come, then, and behold him, my superb master,
who at ninety-eight has still this strength so wonderful.'
The ladies never cared to see him more than once, but often met the
truly beautiful old wife as she toiled to and fro, finding her faithful love
more wonderful than his strength, and feeling sure that when she lies at
last on her 'clean bed,' some good angel will repay these ninety-two
hard years with the youth and beauty, happiness and rest, which
nothing can destroy.
Not only did the women manage the affairs of this world, but had more
influence than men with the good powers of heaven. A long drought
parched France that year, and even fertile Brittany suffered. More than
once processions of women, led by priests, poured through the gates to
go to the Croix du Saint Esprit and pray for rain.
'Why don't the men go also?' Miss Livy asked.

'Ah! they pray to the Virgin, and she listens best to women,' was the
answer.
She certainly seemed to do so, for gracious showers soon fell, and the
little gardens bloomed freshly where the mothers' hard hands had
planted cabbages, onions, and potatoes to feed the children through the
long winter.
Nor were these the only tasks the women did. The good ladies had a
hospital, and a neater, cheerier place was never seen; few invalids, but
many old people sitting in the sunny gardens, or at work in the clean
rooms. La Garaye is in ruins now, but the memory of its gentle lady
still lives, and is preserved in this benevolent institution for the sick, the
old, and poor.
A school for girls was kept by the good nuns, and the streets at certain
hours were full of little damsels, with round caps on their braided hair,
queer long gowns of blue, white aprons and handkerchiefs, who went
clattering by in their wooden shoes, bobbing little curtsies to their
friends, and readily answering any questions inquisitive strangers asked
them. They learned to read, write, sew, and say the catechism. Also to
sing; for, often as the ladies passed the little chapel of Our Lady, a
chorus of sweet young voices came to us, making the flowery garden
behind the church of St. Sauveur a favourite resting-place.
In endeavouring to account for the freedom of the women here, it was
decided that it was owing to Anne of Brittany, the 'gentle and generous
Duchesse,' to whom her husband Louis XII. allowed the uncontrolled
government of the duchy. Relics of the 'fière Bretonne,' as Louis called
her, are still treasured everywhere, and it was pleasant to know not only
that she was an accomplished woman, writing tender letters in Latin
verse to her husband, but also a wise and just Princess to her people,
'showing herself by spirit and independence to be the most worthy of
all her race to wear the ducal crown.' So three cheers for good
Duchesse Anne, and long life to the hardy, happy women of Brittany!
While Miss Lavinia was making these observations and moralizing
upon them, the younger ladies were enjoying discoveries and

experiences more to their tastes.
They had not been in the house half a day before Madame C. informed
them that 'Mademoiselle, the so charming miss whom they beheld at
dinner, was to be married very soon; and they should have the rapture
of witnessing a wedding the most beautiful.'
They welcomed the prospect with pleasure, for Dinan is not a whirl of
gaiety at the best of times: and that spring the drought, rumours of war,
and fears of small-pox, cast a shadow upon the sunny little town. So
they surveyed Mademoiselle Pelagie with interest, and longed to
behold the happy man who was to be blessed with the hand of this little,
yellow-faced girl, with red eyes, dirty hands, and a frizzled crop, so like
a wig they never could make up their minds