A Bakery in Paris by Aimie K. Runyan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Aimie K. Runyan
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Fiction
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Lisette
September 2, 1870
“Come away from the window, Lisette. I don’t want anyone knowing
we’re up here.”
Maman sat in her chair, needlework in hand since breakfast, though I
doubt she’d made more than a dozen stitches in the three hours since, but it
gave her hands company as she fretted. We lived on the Place Royale, one
of the oldest neighborhoods in the heart of the city. After the Revolution, it
was known as the Place des Vosges, but with the reinstatement of the
monarchy, it was the Place Royale once more. Some of the oldest and
wealthiest families in Paris lived here, and Maman was certain that if the
Prussians took Paris, our neighborhood would be a prime target for their
cruelty, while I thought she attributed more importance to our neighborhood
than it deserved. There was no strategic advantage to invading our peaceful
little corner of Paris, aside from the riches they could plunder.
It didn’t
seem enough to me, but Maman was convinced that if they breached the
walls of Paris it would mean our heads. Despite Maman’s concerns, Papa
would not retreat to the country as our neighbors had done. For weeks, he
refused to think the Prussians would succeed in getting as far as Paris. Now
that it seemed likely that they would, he said he would not abandon our
home to the invaders, even if it meant risking our lives.
Our manservants, Gustave and Philippe . . . would they defend us against
the mob when the Prussians invaded? More likely they would betray us if
they thought they could save themselves. For this reason, Papa distrusted
them and anyone else of the working class. The defeat at Sedan and the
rumored displacement of the emperor made this possibility, once seemingly
absurd, now entirely probable.
“Are you worried, Papa?” little Gislène asked from Maman’s side.
“Not in the least. The emperor will have the Prussians well in hand
before long, mark my words,” Papa said as he paced the floor.
Antoine, my little brother, nodded enthusiastically from his chair where
he’d spent the last hour reading one of our father’s favorite tomes. He
longed to follow in Papa’s footsteps so badly, I wondered he didn’t stitch
himself permanently to Papa’s side. Gislène, the baby, was curled up next to
Maman on her settee. Maman’s precious little poppet, complete with gold
ringlets. It wasn’t hard to understand Maman’s preference for her, and she
was sweet enough I couldn’t begrudge her the attentions that preferment
afforded.
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