Explore "Forget-me-not" by Marjorie Bowen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Continual parties in honour of the charming little granddaughter of M. de Frediani were given on his vast estates while the Southern spring burst open around them. The sky and stars and flowers, sun and moon and sea offered the most entrancing decoration for any tale of love.
One night Lucille Debelleyme, who always had to leave balls and receptions early with her little charge, put a lace shawl over her delicate silk dress and quietly left the Palace; she had wanted to for many nights. The moon was full and, urged by a restless excitement, she had been unable to remain in her room. She walked without conscious direction through a grove of oleanders and came out on the shore, pale gold sands silvered by the moonlight, a line of slowly curling surf white as ivory, and a sea of violet blue. Above her the Southern moon seemed huge and very near and she felt as if she could catch it in her hand.