Villettedada

or

The Maiden’s Lament.

 

Turkish dignitaries.

Where are they? Why don’t they come?

I make my own bed and do my housework.

What do you mean, you’re hungry!

White wine Waffles.

Desiree needs a particularly watchful eye!

Look here, how clean she is, this young Miss Lucy.

So, do you like this alleyway?

(Maintaining an air of innocence.)

 

A mountain near Athens, famous for its marble

What a tale! . . . . Nobody’s been there!

The Syrian Naaman acknowledged God but also worshipped the Syrian deity Rimmon.

As to St Pierre, she’s got the air

of an old flirt playing the innocent.

 

But, miss, sit down, and don’t move - do you understand?

Not until someone comes to find you, or till I give you my permission.

There’s no one like the English women for these sorts of adventure - how fearless they are!

Ah, really? So there’s nothing behind it - no mystery, no flirtation for example?

What a poisonous pest Desiree is!

One which can shrink and expand at will.

 

These Lambassecourians! Open, frank, blunt and somewhat rebellious.

Too much sensitivity of feeling. I have lied several times.

Don’t tell it to my enemies!

What’s going on? Are you playing tricks on me?

Women’s laced boots.

 

A visitor for Mademoiselle Fanshawe!

Thank you, Madame: very good, excellent! . . .

You showed a much needed coolness,

worth a thousand outbursts of misplaced feeling.

Poor Dr John . . . This dear young man! The best creature in the world!

Tell me now, do you really feel too weak?

 

A magnificent room. What are you doing there? That’s my trunk!

Pythia was the priestess of Appollo at Delphi, who delivered the oracles in a divine frenzy. (A reference to Punch who announces secrets in a loud stage whisper.)

Hat of a soft green colour - that’s for evening prayers - in English or Irish.

But of course, I will help you with all my heart. You can do what you like with me, godfather.

Lord, this is hard. I don’t want to do it any more. It bores me too much!

 

                                                                                                                                            C. Bronte arr. A. Foxglove