Beyond paradise Read Online Free Page A
Author: Copyright Paperback Collection (Library of Congress) DLC, Elizabeth Doyle
us. It is family which makes us immortal. Family springs from you, and it does not forget you."
Chantal was trying to listen, but her mouth closed gently and her eyes grew heavier. She was silent.
"When I marry," Sylvie continued, "you will have nicer dresses, and Papa will get a new horse. Etienne's family will become titled. And our children will have both his wealth, and my breeding. You see, we mustn't think of ourselves. We must think of our immortality, as we breathe life into a thousand more years of family."
"I see," said Chantal, for she could think of nothing else to say, and wanted very much for Sylvie to believe she understood.
Sylvie sighed miserably. It was so difficult to convince another of what she herself did not truly believe. She knew she was failing. "Chantal," she whispered into the night, "Chantal, please be a good girl when I'm gone. It is so important. Maman will have only you. And you must listen to her. I want her to have a ... a good daughter," For a change she added privately.
Chantal seemed to be drifting off. When Sylvie realized
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27
it, she smiled. There was truly nothing more boring than being reminded of the importance of obedience. She could hardly blame Chantal for slipping away. She remembered the question she'd asked, the one that had nearly made her burst into hysterics. Had she talked to Etienne about baby names? The bed began to shake with Sylvie's silent laughter. What a thing to talk about before one is even married! That would be only one step away from discussing the wedding night. The wedding night. Sylvie stopped grinning.
Would it really happen? Would Etienne actually bed her? Strangely, she had never really considered the matter before. She knew how babies were made, more or less, and she knew that she was marrying for the sake of having babies, but something had prevented her mind from putting the two things together. Surely, she couldn't let Etienne do that, could she? She didn't even like him! Was there another way? She thought and thought as she chewed painfully on her lip, but could not think of a loophole. How many babies would he want? Five? If he wanted five, then he would have to bed her five times, wouldn't he? Is that how it worked? She lifted the neck of her gown and peeked through the darkness. She didn't know exactly what they would do, but she knew that she would be asked to take off her clothes, and then he would do . .. something .. . down there, to make the baby. She began to pant heavily. No. She could not do it. She would not do it! In the morning, she told herself, in the morning, it will all seem better. But in her panic and discontent, it would be hours before she found rest.
*
Four
Jervais was late. This did not have the desired effect of making Sylvie all the more anxious to see him. Instead, it made her quite annoyed, and he was greeted with a scathing look. "If you wanted to meet me after breakfast, you should not have agreed to dawn," said Sylvie lightly, beginning her stroll toward the jail before he had even caught up to her.
"I was held up," he explained, working hard to increase his heavy strides.
"By the barrel of a musket?"
"No."
"By the death of family?"
"No."
"By falling into a giant pit from which you had to claw your way out?"
"No."
"Then you were not held up, you were just casual. Now hurry. I told my mother I would be home by midday."
When the bright sunlight struck Sylvie's hair, igniting strands of fire and strands of gold within the cassia waves,
Elizabeth Doyle
Jervais forgot to be angry about her scolding. Her hair was visible, but it was tied up today, secured by a proper, white brimmed hat tied under her chin with a pink ribbon. He liked it. With her lovely hair pulled back, he could see her face more clearly. He could appreciate the radiance of her ivory skin, and the handsomeness of her broad cheekbones. It was her eyebrows he liked the best. They were darker than her hair, and much too
Chantal was trying to listen, but her mouth closed gently and her eyes grew heavier. She was silent.
"When I marry," Sylvie continued, "you will have nicer dresses, and Papa will get a new horse. Etienne's family will become titled. And our children will have both his wealth, and my breeding. You see, we mustn't think of ourselves. We must think of our immortality, as we breathe life into a thousand more years of family."
"I see," said Chantal, for she could think of nothing else to say, and wanted very much for Sylvie to believe she understood.
Sylvie sighed miserably. It was so difficult to convince another of what she herself did not truly believe. She knew she was failing. "Chantal," she whispered into the night, "Chantal, please be a good girl when I'm gone. It is so important. Maman will have only you. And you must listen to her. I want her to have a ... a good daughter," For a change she added privately.
Chantal seemed to be drifting off. When Sylvie realized
BEYOND PARADISE
27
it, she smiled. There was truly nothing more boring than being reminded of the importance of obedience. She could hardly blame Chantal for slipping away. She remembered the question she'd asked, the one that had nearly made her burst into hysterics. Had she talked to Etienne about baby names? The bed began to shake with Sylvie's silent laughter. What a thing to talk about before one is even married! That would be only one step away from discussing the wedding night. The wedding night. Sylvie stopped grinning.
Would it really happen? Would Etienne actually bed her? Strangely, she had never really considered the matter before. She knew how babies were made, more or less, and she knew that she was marrying for the sake of having babies, but something had prevented her mind from putting the two things together. Surely, she couldn't let Etienne do that, could she? She didn't even like him! Was there another way? She thought and thought as she chewed painfully on her lip, but could not think of a loophole. How many babies would he want? Five? If he wanted five, then he would have to bed her five times, wouldn't he? Is that how it worked? She lifted the neck of her gown and peeked through the darkness. She didn't know exactly what they would do, but she knew that she would be asked to take off her clothes, and then he would do . .. something .. . down there, to make the baby. She began to pant heavily. No. She could not do it. She would not do it! In the morning, she told herself, in the morning, it will all seem better. But in her panic and discontent, it would be hours before she found rest.
*
Four
Jervais was late. This did not have the desired effect of making Sylvie all the more anxious to see him. Instead, it made her quite annoyed, and he was greeted with a scathing look. "If you wanted to meet me after breakfast, you should not have agreed to dawn," said Sylvie lightly, beginning her stroll toward the jail before he had even caught up to her.
"I was held up," he explained, working hard to increase his heavy strides.
"By the barrel of a musket?"
"No."
"By the death of family?"
"No."
"By falling into a giant pit from which you had to claw your way out?"
"No."
"Then you were not held up, you were just casual. Now hurry. I told my mother I would be home by midday."
When the bright sunlight struck Sylvie's hair, igniting strands of fire and strands of gold within the cassia waves,
Elizabeth Doyle
Jervais forgot to be angry about her scolding. Her hair was visible, but it was tied up today, secured by a proper, white brimmed hat tied under her chin with a pink ribbon. He liked it. With her lovely hair pulled back, he could see her face more clearly. He could appreciate the radiance of her ivory skin, and the handsomeness of her broad cheekbones. It was her eyebrows he liked the best. They were darker than her hair, and much too
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