Page 60 of A Castaway in Cornwall
“Pardon me a moment.”
Alexander made his way through the crowd to the man, hands raised as though in entreaty or surrender.
Laura followed more slowly and overheard part of their conversation.
“Let us avoid an unpleasant scene for the sake of the ladies and the church, all right?”
LaRoche hesitated, eyes glinting. “For the ladies, perhaps. I don’t care about the church. Or you.”
“Fair enough.”
Miss Roskilly came and took LaRoche’s arm. “Come,monsieur. It is time to take our places.”
He allowed the young woman to lead him away.
Alexander returned to Laura’s side, still looking wary and uneasy.
The evening began with a concert. The Roskillys had engaged a singer for the occasion who regularly performed in Bath and Exeter.
She sang beautifully. The first half of her repertoire included a few songs in English and one in Italian.
During the interval, François approached her, flashed his charming smile, and asked something of her. She nodded her agreement, and he touched his fingertips to his heart with a small bow of gratitude. Laura wondered what he had said. She doubted he’d been flirting with the singer, as the woman was probably a decade older than he was, but couldn’t be certain.
When the singer returned to the front of the room to continue her program, she said, “I have received a special request. One among us is from France, as you may know. So for a few minutes at least, I hope you will set aside thoughts of war and enjoy a French folk song,‘Vive La Rose.’”
She began singing:
“Mon ami me délaisse
Ô gué, vive la rose
Je ne sais pas pourquoi...”
Laura had studied French in school and on her own for a time afterward, but while she recognized many words, she struggled to understand the gist of the song.
In the row ahead of her, Miss Roskilly leaned near Monsieur LaRoche and asked softly, “What does it mean?”
“It is a song of, how do you say, unreturned love?”
“Unrequited love?”
“C’est ça.”
As the singer continued, LaRoche quietly translated:
“My friend is leaving me. I do not know why.
He’s going to see another, who is richer than me.
They say she is more beautiful; I do not disagree.
Long live the rose.
They say that she is sick. Perhaps she will die.
If she dies ... he will come back to me.
But I won’t want him anymore.
