An interesting costuming decision in the 1994 adaptation of Little Women was having the younger March sisters wear the elder sisters’ old dresses. At the Christmas party after her recovery from scarlet fever, Beth wears Jo’s red dress which she wore to the Gardiners’ New Years’ party a year prior. Years later, teenage Amy is seen wearing Meg’s old blue dress which she wore to Sallie Moffat’s coming out party. Considering that the Marches lived in genteel poverty, it was unlikely that they could afford new clothes for all four children, so it would make sense that the younger sisters wore hand-me-downs. The choices also reflect the sisters’ bond: Beth is closer to Jo, while Amy is closer to Meg.
The day was not cold but neither was it warm. Even as the sun shone its brightest, the warmth of its rays were not felt. One came toward a simple stone marking a place where a life lost to time was lain. Never forgotten and always remembered by no more than myth and legend. Upon the eternal deathbed, one placed a single rose. On its stem was a golden ribbon. “Pour Orrose,” the voice said softly. The voice was like a song that rang louder than the dead could hear even as the living never would. For now.
The shadow of the one at the grave grew smaller and the light of the sun shone upon the stone—it’s name faded by time. C’est l’histoire d’Orrose.
**** **** **** ****
She walked slowly from the grave to join her companion who waited outside the decaying stone walls of the old prison. She lifted her veil and looked at him with her eyes the color of the sky.
“Was he there,” he asked gruffly. He was in no mood for sentiment. He had only accompanied her out of duty.
“I would not know,” she said softly. “There were others there. It would be impossible to search through them all to find one lost soul.”
“Then why would you come all this way for nothing,” he asked as a footman opened the carriage door.
“It is nothing to you, for you did not know him,” she said angrily.
“Neither did you.”
She glared at him—her face twisted in anger.
“I knew of him,” she began. “And of what I know, he was a far better man than you will ever be.”
She turned and was helped into the carriage. Her companion signed and followed her inside. He motioned to their driver and they began their journey home.
I watched them as they left and wondered to myself who was she—this lovely girl who had come so far to remember a man she did not know. I thought about how I came to be—a ghost of a man with a past I could barely remember. For her, I would try to remember. Perhaps one day I would be able to tell her.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–Prologue by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-26-2020
My baptism was one week away. One morning, Philippe and I decided to make our way to the kitchen. I always had a voracious appetite for as long as I could remember. Philippe was a finicky eater. He would only put the finest of delicacies in his mouth. But if the food was good, he could eat as much as I could.
If our mother had known of our near daily sojourns to the kitchen, she would have locked us in our rooms. As royalty, we were fraternizing with commoners too much. How could we not? They were friendly to us. Their children were uninterested in our titles and more into play. On this day, there were few people in the kitchen but there was plenty of food.
Straight away, Philippe headed for the macaroons. I helped myself to the omelettes. While I poked a piece in my mouth, I saw Philippe reaching for his treats. He dropped one and chased it as it rolled under a table. One of the servants noticed him squatting down to reach it.
“Thank you,” he said. “I am Philippe.”
“Who are you talking to,” I asked him.
“A girl,” he said without looking up. I noticed a little hand coming from under the table holding the macaroon he dropped.
A woman gasped and reached under the table and pulled out a little girl. She was as little as Philippe, with a head full of long black curls covering her features.
“Tu es une mauvaise fille,” she said angrily. “Are you stealing food again?”
“No,” she said, tearfully.
“She gave me my macaroon,” Philippe said, his mouth full. He walked over to the girl, and handed her a macaroon. “Here.”
She took it, smiled and ran out of the kitchen. Philippe gave the woman a mean look.
“Come, Philippe,” I said. I could see he was about say something awful.
He slowly turned toward me, still scowling at the woman.
“She is not nice, Louis,” he said, looking at me. I looked at the woman as I took Philippe’s hand. I did not say a word to her but I could see she feared what we might say to our parents. I led my brother away putting the incident out of my mind.
**** **** **** ****
No more than a few days before my baptism, I was playing with Philippe in the hall. Our mother approached us followed by several ladies with 2 girls and boy.
Everyone stopped in front of us and bowed.
“Louis, Philippe,” Mother said sweetly. “This is Gabrielle, Louis and Diane-Françoise. Louis and Diane have come to play with you.”
I did not know what to say but Philippe did.
“Why,” he asked.
Mother seemed a loss for words as several of her ladies tried not to laugh.
“Philippe, be polite to our guests,” she said.
“Why?”
“Yes, Maman,” I said quickly.
She smiled and left us with the little boy and girl as the older girl left with mother and the other ladies.
“I am Louis,” the boy said.
“Me, too,” I said.
“This is my sister,” he said. “Her name is Diane but we call her Françoise because she is named after our mother.”
“She is a girl,” Philippe said.
“I know,” she said. “And you are a boy.”
Philippe stuck his tongue out at her.
“Who is the other girl,” I asked Louis.
“That is my other sister, Gabrielle,” he said. “Papa said Maman is going to have another baby. I hope it is a boy this time.”
“That is a lot of girls,” I said. “Philippe is my only brother.”
“He is little,” Louis said.
Philippe gave him a mean look before pulling Diane’s hair.
“Philippe, stop,” I said. “That was not very nice.”
“No, it was not,” Diane said, hitting Philippe on the arm.
“Françoise,” Louis said. “You cannot hit him. He is a Prince.”
“That is right,” Philippe said, hitting her back.
She hit him again.
“Mine is two,” Louis said, pulling her away.
“So is mine,” I said, holding Philippe back. “They are still babies.”
“I am not a baby,” they said in unison.
“Come,” I said. “We can go play in the garden. We have a puppy out there.”
**** **** **** ****
On the day of my baptism, I entered the chapel with my mother. Philippe was to remain behind in the pew without our governess. As always, Philippe had other ideas. He managed to escape her grasp, and follow me down the aisle to the altar. Our father was waiting for us beside the font. His skin was pallid and his eyes did not seem to have the shine I remembered. He never moved from his position. He smiled at us as we met him and the priest at the altar.
It was intimate ceremony with only important members of the household in attendance. I stood before the altar of the chapel, I knew it was a solemn occasion even as I was too young to understand its meaning. I stood with my parents before the baptismal font as the priest began to speak.
Suddenly, I heard a splash. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then I heard it again and again. I looked down to see Philippe reaching into the font. I gently nudged him to get him to stop. I should have known that would entice him to continue more vigorously. I noticed everyone trying to ignore Philippe. It was a feat that was futile to attempt. My father gently pushed my brother’s hand away, and Philippe put it back. Even our father knew it was best to let Philippe have his way. So as long as he kept quiet, there was no harm done other than a slightly damp priest.
Papa did not say a word nor moved through it all. He just smiled and nodded once it was over. He and Maman exchanged glances while the priest and I exchanged words before mother took our hands and us out of the chapel of Château-Vieux.
The next time I would see my father would be 23 days later upon his deathbed.
**** **** **** ****
It was a quiet morning. By I remember I was playing with Philippe in my room when our governess came in. Her face was stoic.
“Your Highnesses,” she began, her voice trembling. “His Majesty wishes to you both.
“Papa,” Philippe exclaimed excitedly. “I want to see Papa.”
I knew something was wrong. Everyone in the room seemed disheartened. She picked up Philippe and offered her hand to me. I cautiously took it and she led me away to my father’s room.
It was the last moments of his life.
In his room, I could smell the scent of death and feel the burden that was about to put upon me. Though I was only four years old, I knew my presence in the moment gave everyone a feeling of helplessness and hope. When I saw my father, I was frightened at how sallow he was. Maman, Mazarin and Bontemps held vigil by his bedside as we approached.
“Louis,” he said, weakly. “Philippe.”
Our governess put my brother down beside me. I did not dare move closer to my father. I was afraid; he looked like the corpse he was to become.
“Papa,” Philippe said. “You look sleepy.”
“I am,” he whispered, with a faint smile. “I am going to sleep, Philippe. For a very long time. Louis, remember what I say to you. You will make a fine king. I know you will.”
I nodded. I did not know what else to do. I was passed a torch I was not yet able to carry. Suddenly, Papa said something I could not hear, took two labored breaths, then fell silent. Mother gasped as others in the room weeped softly.
“It is a quarter past two,” Bontemps said softly.
With everyone around him, my father slipped away peacefully.
“Why is Papa sleeping, Louis,” Philippe whispered.
“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered softly.
I knew our father was gone forever, but I did not believe it. Even I thought he was sleeping. It would be a while before I realized he had said his dying words to me months earlier at the château. Watch after your brother for me. Take care of Philippe. Looking at my father’s corpse, I said to myself, But who will take care of me, Papa?
Soon after, everyone turned and looked at me.
“Le roi est mort,” Mazarin said. “Vive le roi.”
I was the King of France.
“You are the king now,” Maman said to me.
“I do not want to be king,” I said.
“Your father is dead,” she said. “You must take his place now, Louis.”
“I do not want to,” I said loudly. “I do not want to be king!”
“Louis,” she began.
“No!”
I ran out of the room and down the hall crying. I did not want to be king. I did not know what it meant to be king, much less what it was. When I reached my room, I expected to see my governess, but there was another woman in her place.
“Who are you,” I yelled.
“I am your new governess, Your Majesty,” she said.
“No,” I yelled, pushing her. “Go away!”
I threw myself on my bed and started to cry into the pillows. I cried myself to sleep. I remembered hearing soft whimpering next to me. When I opened my eyes, it was evening and I was dressed in my nightgown. Philippe was lying next to me, his eyes red from crying.
“You scared me,” he said.
“I did not mean to,” I said.
“Why are you sad, Louis,” he asked.
“I do not want to be king but Maman said I am,” I answered.
“You are too short to be king,” he said. “You have to be tall like Papa.”
“I think he is gone, Philippe,” I said.
“When he comes back, you do not have to be king,” he said yawning.
He fell asleep, leaving me to my thoughts. I did not think Papa was coming back to us this time.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 5-07-2022
I’m back it has been quite a journey. One of the longest journeys. One of these days I will talk about it when people actually care. Until then, read.
Two footmen opened the doors and father stepped out. Before anyone could stop him, Philippe jumped out, nearly falling on his face.
“Shall I put him down, Your Majesty,” our governess asked Papa as she stepped out of the carriage.
“If you will,” he answered. “Philippe has had quite a day.”
“No,” Philippe said.
I took my first steps out of the carriage and looked around as Papa tried to reason with Philippe. To my recollection, this little château did not impress me much. It was just another one of our many palaces.
“Come, Louis,” Papa said to me, offering his hand. I took his hand he led us into the château. Philippe talked every step of the way in the arms of our governess. Once inside, my father and I were parted and my brother and I were shown to our apartments.
“Philippe,” I asked, as he was put down on the bed while our governess left us alone. “What are you talking about?”
He stopped talking for a moment and thought about what I had asked him.
“I do not know,” he answered as he rolled over in laughter. Our governess returned as quickly as she had left.
“Your Highness,” she said to me. “You are to see your father immediately in his apartments. Straight through those doors.”
“No,” Philippe screamed. “I want Louis!”
She looked at me sternly. I gave her a weak smile as she left me to my brother.
“Philippe,” I began. “Go to sleep.”
“I do not want to,” he said, looking around. “Not here.”
“Please,” I begged. “I must go see Papa.”
“Will you come back,” he asked.
“Yes.”
Philippe yawned.
“I am not sleepy,” he said, as he fell asleep. When I was certain he would not wake up, I turned to leave the room to find Papa. Instead, he had found me.
“You are very good with your brother,” he said. “But you have always been.”
“I wish he were bigger,” I said. “He is still a baby.”
“He will not always be, Louis,” he said. “Just as you will not always be a child.”
Papa sat down in a chair beside the window. Though I was still young, he was not as I had once remembered him. I did not have the mind to ask what plagued him. I would have not understood what he might have told me. I went over to him to see what he was looking at through the window. He motioned for me to join him. I climbed upon his lap, and we sat together in silence for a time. The only sounds of nature came from Philippe’s restless sleep.
“Louis,” he finally said. “You will do as I say, yes?”
“Yes, Papa,” I answered.
“Watch after your brother for me,” he said. “Take care of Philippe.”
I nodded, thinking he was speaking about watching Philippe while we were staying the château. I looked over at my brother. He was sound asleep.
“There is no such thing as fearless, Louis,” I heard Papa say. “You must be afraid to do something so that you may find the courage to do anything.”
I turned back to him and nodded. He embraced me. I would not understand anything that happened that day for years but not long after he uttered those words to me, he would be dead and I would be king.
**** **** **** ****
Philippe was awakened shortly before dinner. He was unusually quiet, but nonetheless, took the time to let our governess know he did not like the food put before him. He would take a bite, scowl, then spit it out if the taste was not to his liking. To be fair, I had to admit I was not fond of it, either. I ate it out of obedience.
After dinner, we were put to bed. Getting there was always a chore when it came to Philippe. I am not sure when he learned to splash his bathwater on the servants for amusement, but he had turned it into an unholy ritual at every opportunity. Once we were dressed and in bed, I could hear the sighs of relief behind the doors of our room.
For some time that night, we slept peacefully without interruption. Then, I felt a jolt that woke me instantly. I felt the earth shaking but I knew better than to worry.
“Philippe, stop,” I said. I knew he was jumping on the bed. This was the one time I wish I had never taught him how to do it.
“I cannot sleep, Louis,” he said between each jump.
“Neither can I, Philippe,” I began. “Because you are keeping me awake.”
He stopped jumping, landing on his bottom near my feet.
“I am not a baby,” he said. That was the problem with Philippe. He could remember everything I said when I thought he was not listening.
“Yes, you are,” I said.
Philippe crawled back to his place beside me and lay down.
“Louis,” he began. “You will take care of me.”
“I have to,” I said. “You are my brother.”
“You are my brother,” he said. “I will take care of you, too.”
With that, he kissed my forehead, lay down and fell asleep. I did not understand what he meant until we were older but Philippe always knew and I was glad for it.
**** **** **** ****
When I woke up the next morning, Philippe was gone. I looked around and saw him standing on the chair where Papa and I were sitting the day before. He was looking out of the window. I climbed out of bed and went to join him. The floor was cool, but a servant was stoking the fire in the hearth.
“Look,” Philippe said excitedly, pointing out the window. I saw Papa on horseback, riding with several other men. “Papa is leaving us!”
I smiled to myself. Philippe was still too young to understand.
“Papa is going hunting,” I told him.
“Why,” he asked, looking at me, concerned.
“That is what kings do.”
“Why,” he asked again.
“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered.
“Why,” he asked.
If our governess had not come into the room, I was going smack my little brother. It was time to eat and Philippe had become distracted with something new. As our porridge was served, I wondered how long Papa would be gone. Philippe took an enormous spoonful of porridge and shoved it into his mouth. With his mouth full, our governess took this moment to scold him.
“Smaller bites, Petit Monsieur,” she said. “Your Highness, sit up straight.”
Immediately, I changed my posture. She was stern but kind. We would not have her much longer, but she would come back into my life when I would need her the most.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-18-2021
I just can’t stop Philippe from being cute; it’s just not going to happen.
I have been on a short hiatus (sort of). I am not at home. I had an ordeal that took me away from all my work on @tkwrtrilogy3and@thesecretofthehouseofbourbonbook for some time. I am just now returning to work, as it were. One day, I will tell you what happened when I am ready. For now, I am still putting the pieces of my life back in order and slowly returning to my beloved work. There will be more updates on @tkwrtnewsfeedand@newsfromthehouseofbourbon.
<p><p>So I have finished watching HWARANG. And, guys, IT! IS! AMAZING! It is funny and interesting and breathtaking. The love story isn’t too bothersome. obvious, but funny to follow. Although main actress’ non-stop-crying actually irritated me. The atmosphere of of bromance, which fills all episode is actually satisfying, because it is not… well… not simple. I would say that it is ridiculously realistic. From the first sight, it may seem that there is no intrigue at all. Everything looks so clear and obvious. But each episode actually gives a new question and tension doesn’t leave you till the very end. As a result: HIGHLY RECOMMEND if you like romance, bromance, fun, history and nice atmosphere. This Korean Drama is simply beautiful!
So, this is my small confession. I am a teacher of 4 languages. And I love Korean culture to much not to learn Korean language. And now, while my students write exercises or si,ply being stupid, HWARANGS ARE DANCING IN MY HEAD
Takeko Nakano (Meisa Kuroki) led the Onna Musha (non-military female warriors who defends the household when the husbands go out to war) against the Imperial forces outside of Tsuruga Castle which led to her demise, leaving Yae Niijima (Haruka Ayase) to lead the last line of defence at the castle itself, as Lord Matsudaira Katamori (Ayano Go) ponders the fate of his people.
Shameless self-promotion but I just opened a sideblog about Elisabeth “Sisi” of Austria (née in Bavaria) in movies and series. There are quite a lot of projects coming about her and there have been some in the past. So if you are interested, please follow @sisionscreen
“They say his touch alone can heal anything, that he can make even the most broken hearted feel whole.”
Oh yes, he can! Oh you meant his character in the movie…
I love this post, all of these photos and this reply and that’s why I’m reblogging it. However, eventually I will post these pictures separately for better reposting (if you wanted to repost only one of them) and they also deserve to be displayed in full width!
