The Mind Creative SEPTEMBER 2014 | Page 64

The Mind Creative

She turned into the house. There was much work awaiting her,
for the children had left a sad disorder behind them; but she did
not at once set about the task of righting it. Mamzelle Aurélie
seated herself beside the table. She gave one slow glance through
the room, into which the evening shadows were creeping and
deepening around her solitary figure. She let her head fall down
upon her bended arm, and began to cry. Oh, but she cried! Not
softly, as women often do. She cried like a man, with sobs that
seemed to tear her very soul. She did not notice Ponto licking her
hand.

Photographs courtesy of:
Antique Photo Album http://www.antiquephotoalbum.nl/
Despair - by Maria Bashkirtseff (1882)
http://www.loyno.edu/~kchopin/new/culture/creoles2.html

64