Explore "Forget-me-not" by Marjorie Bowen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On the occasion of Madame du Boccage's birthday, the governess sent the Duchess an exquisite piece of needlework designed and made by herself. Complimentary, charming and delicate letters were exchanged, the Duchess returned the present, that she received with graciousness, by a gift of a bracelet of blue turquoises arranged so that they looked like a cluster of forget-me-nots. Mademoiselle Debelleyme tried them on, an ironic smile on her lips, and then flung them into her trunk.
Madame du Boccage, who had begun to go about much in society in order to dispel the scandals so vibrant in Paris, frequently appeared with her husband at formal entertainments. On several occasions she offered the governess a seat in her box at the Opera; paragraphs in the newspapers became less frequent and gossiping tongues wagged more slowly, and finally, with disgust, fell silent; M. du Boccage had been saved by the tact of his father-in-law, by the generosity of his wife. It was impossible to say either openly or secretly that the pale young woman who, bearing herself with dignified respect, sat behind the Duchess in her box at the Opera, at the Hippodrome, who shared her carriage with her in the Bois, who continued to take charge of her children, who frequently led them to the old Maréchal Frediani's establishment, was the mistress of her husband.