ODETTE
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Crown 8vo. 6s. each
VAINGLORY
“The author of this book has a giftfor trenchant satire ... one cannothelp feeling that Mr. Firbank musthave gone straight to life for some ofthese people.”
New Witness.
INCLINATIONS
“Mr. Ronald Firbank’s fiction bearsa strong resemblance to the work ofthe Futurists in painting.”
Glasgow Herald.
“The book is pleasant, vivacious andstimulating throughout.”
Scotsman.
CAPRICE (In preparation)
GRANT RICHARDS LTD.
ST. MARTIN’S ST.
LONDON
W.C.
AVE MARIA
ODETTE
A FAIRY TALE FOR WEARY PEOPLE
BY
RONALD FIRBANK
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
BY ALBERT BUHRER
LONDON
GRANT RICHARDS LIMITED
ST. MARTIN’S STREET
1916
IN ALL THE WORLD
TO
THE DEAREST OF MOTHERS
Odette: A Fairy Tale
for Weary People
I
IN the long summer evenings,when the shadowscrept slowly over thelawn, and the distanttowers of the cathedralturned purple in the settingsun, little Odette d’Antreverneswould steal out from the old greychateau to listen to the birds murmuring“good-night” to one anotheramongst the trees.
Far away, at the end of the longavenue of fragrant limes, wound theLoire, all amongst the flowery meadowsand emerald vineyards, like a wonderfullooking-glass reflecting all the sky;and across the river, like an ogre’scastle in a fairy tale, frowned thechateau of Luynes, with its round greyturrets and its long, thin windows, sonarrow, that scarcely could a princessin distress put forth her little whitehand to wave to the true knight thatshould rescue her from her terrible fate.
Just until the sun disappeared behindthe trees, veiled in a crimson cloud,little Odette would remain in the shadowygarden, then quickly and mysteriouslyshe would slip back into theold grey chateau; where, in the long,dim drawing-room, before two waxcandles, she would find her AuntValerie d’Antrevernes embroidering analtar cloth for the homely lichenedvillage church, that one could see acrossthe rose garden from the castle windows.
“Where have you been, my child?”her aunt would ask her, glancing upfrom the lace altar cloth that fell aroundher in a snowy cloud.
And Odette, in her pretty baby voice,would reply: “I have been listeningto the birds saying their eveningprayers,” and then silently she wouldsit on a low hassock at her aunt’sfeet, and tell herself fairy stories untilFortune, her