Due to Brother Matthew's lengthy confession, it was almost time for Evening Mass. So, they agreed to remain. As they sat waiting for Mass to begin, neither spoke. Brother Matthew kept his eyes focused on the Virgin. When Mass did begin, Lydia felt peculiar. This was the first time since she left Romsey Abby, that she had attended Mass dressed as herself. It was a very different experience after so much time. She was not the same girl she had been. For the first time in a very long time, she accepted the Eucharist with a clear heart.

Outside Sainte-Benigne the stars shown like distant candle flames. It was late. Weariness settled over Lydia. The day had been too long. She and Brother Matthew got into the waiting coach. Neither spoke. Both stared out their separate windows. A heavy awkwardness was now between them. The days of companionship were over. Perhaps if given time a new kind of friendship might have formed, but there would not be time. Lydia pushed this thought away from her, because behind it came an ocean of thoughts that she would not allow herself to think about. All she wanted was… She did not know.

When the coach pulled up to the front doors of Na Simeon’s house. Brother Matthew did something he had never done before. As she stepped down, he took her hand and helped her out. That brief touch sent a tremor through Lydia. How she was going to miss Brother Matthew.

The front doors swung open and Pierre ushered them to the dining hall. The table was set with lovely gold and red plates. Silver goblets were waiting to be filled. A row of six candles lit the table. They were long wax tapers. Had Madame Beauxchampe or her husband made these candles? They were not as fine as Fader's work or her own.

Na Simeon, James and Antone entered the dining room. There was a bit of sadness in James’ eyes. As for Antone's, Lydia dare not look into his. She felt her face grow hot. Blushes, blasted blushes. Though Antone had not seen her eyes, he had seen her blush. She imagined he was smiling to himself. How he did like to make girls blush!

Fortunately, the meal was designed for Na Simeon's delicate digestion. It was not heavy, saucy or spicy. A servant girl brought out, plain roasted duck, sweet peas, bread, butter and potatoes. She filled their silver goblets with a red wine that was sweet but not strong. Lydia forced herself to concentrate on her food. The conversation at the table went over her, and swelled around her as she tried not to think. She must not think.

After the meal, they went to Na Simeon’s sitting room. Na Simeon said to Antone, “Your uncle tells me you are musical, could you sing or play us a tune?”

Much to Lydia surprise he said, “Oui, Domina.” This would be the first time he had played since they were at the Jewish settlement. “I have been working on a tune and I think I figured out the problem. If you would excuse me while I get my flute.”

“Of course,” said Na Simeon.

As soon as Antone was out of the room Brother Matthew muttered, “I hope he is not going to play that infernal song with the bad note. After the events of today I can not stomach that horrid song.”

“Perhaps,” James said, “he has remedied the problem.”

“Be hopeful if you must, but I would rather not risk it. If you would excuse me Na Simeon, I am done in. May I retire?”

“Of course Brother Matthew. You have had quite a day. Good night.”

“Goodnight Domina, James,” he paused and choked out, “Mademoiselle Wade.”

James and Na Simeon both spoke their goodnights, Lydia found her throat had swollen into silence and she could not speak. Her eyes met Brother Matthew’s. He saw a stranger in her and not a friend. It hurt. Tears were threatening. Lydia watched him walk out of the room. She turned her gaze to her hands. When Antone entered, she did not look up.

Before he played the song, he went through two scales to warm up. And then, just as Brother Matthew had predicted he launched into the song with the sour note. Only this time when he came to the fated note, it did not sound flat but rang true, like a bird’s trill. The music went on and it was lovely. When he finished, Na Simeon clapped her bejeweled hands.

“Very fine young man! Very fine. Thank you!”

*

The room Na Simeon had put Lydia in for the night was dark. The nub of a candle she been given by Pierre when she first went to bed, had guttered out ages ago. Tired as she was she could not sleep. Why was it when the body and emotions were utterly exhausted the mind would decide it was time for a nice long think? She did not WANT to have a nice long think. She crawled out of bed and got her pack. Blindly she searched the pack for her candle box. Her fingers brushed against the bit of churchyard yew Old Kate given her. She pulled it out. It smelled faintly of Home. She would not think about home. She dropped the yew back into her bag and pulled out her candle box.

Slowly and carefully she opened the box and found the candle she lit the night James had been attacked. She dislodged the burned out candle from the holder and put her candle in it. From her pack she got her flint and struck it. Sparks lit the darkness and then the lovely glow of wavering flame cast dancing shadows. A soft pool of light encompassed Lydia and comforted her. On the bedside table was a pamphlet of the Gospel of Matthew. To distract herself from all the thoughts that threatened to drown her, she picked it up and began to read.

As she read, she realized how many words she still did not know. In the coming days she would not neglect her letters. From this night forward she would make the most of the advantages that had been given her at Romsey Abby. Suddenly the words, lucerna corporis est oculus si fuerit oculus tuus simplex totum corpus tuum lucidum erit, leapt off the page at her. Quickly she translated Christ's words, "The light of your body is your eye. If your eye be pure, your whole body shall be full of light."* Was her eye pure? No. She suspected it would take more than a lifetime to achieve pure vision.

James’ knock sounded on her door. What could he want at this hour? She picked up the candle and went to the door. When she swung it open, it was not James, but Antone. The smile on his lips told her he had intentionally misled her. “What is it Antone?”

For a long moment he stood silently staring at her. Finally he said, “I just wanted to see if I could steal a kiss. But, you are not the sort of girl one steals from.” With a gentle hand he cupped her chin. “You and this pilgrimage have changed me. I know you do not believe me, and I cannot prove it, but it is true. I shall forever be grateful our paths crossed. I will return with Uncle and Brother Matthew to Paston Castle. The roads are treacherous and they will need a third look out. After wards, I will return. Trust--" There was a rustling of skirts in the hallway. Dressed in a beautiful silken robe, Na Simeon appeared. Antone let go of Lydia's chin.

Na Simeon asked, “Antone, have you lost your way? Your room is at the other end of the hall.”

Antone stuttered, “Oui, I mean no. Uh, Goodnight Na Simeon.” Like a scared dog, he scuttled down the hall.

“Good night Antone.” Na Simeon called after him. To Lydia she said, “Old women do not sleep well. Mind some company?”

‘”I would be honored.”

Na Simeon entered the room and closed the door. She looked at the candle in the holder Lydia held. "That is not one of mine." She ran her finger down its waxen side. "You do very fine work. Your father taught you well. At least he did one thing right. Be grateful for that."

Lydia was, deep down she was.

After taking a chair, Na Simeon told her to get back in bed and then proceeded to tell her about Madame Beauxchampe’s business. Candle talk, oh how Lydia had missed it. Visions of wick trimmers and dipping strings filled Lydia’s mind. Much to her surprise she yawned.

A smile creased Na Simeon’s face. “You are sleepy at last. Good, I am feeling a bit sleepy myself.” She stood and went to the door. “Do not open this door again tonight. I fear a certain young man is just waiting for me to leave.“ She looked directly into Lydia’s eyes and asked, “Do you love him?”

All sleepiness vanished. There was no way she could admit that. Though Lydia felt her face grow scarlet, she remained silent.

Gently, Na Simeon told her, “Love, dear girl, is a mystery, unfathomable and sometimes a very terrible thing. We women give birth to boys praying that they will be different from other men. Generation after generation they most often are not. But sometimes there is a rare man. A gentle man, who learns what true manhood is. Like Christ he cherishes women, and does not abuse them. Perhaps Antone could become such a man.”

Bab had wondered the same thing. Despite what Antone had so recently told her, Lydia did not have much faith in his conversion. She doubted even more, that he would remember her once, she was no longer in his field of vision. He was what he was, still she would never forget him. Na Simeon gave her a soul piercing look before she left the room.

* Matthew 6:22