The Trousseau by Mary Mageau Page B

resonant voice. ‘Satine has spoken often of you. We met after she played and sang for us so beautifully at the Commandant’s dinner. It has been my pleasure to spend Sunday afternoons with her since then.’
    â€˜And it is my pleasure to meet you, Germond.’ Clotilde couldn’t help but notice how radiant and happy Satine looked and she felt a deep sense of joy for her friend. Perhaps Satine had found someone to love and care for her.
    â€˜Later this year Germond will be recalled to the main administration centre in Tahiti. I know this seems very sudden, but he has asked me to go away with him when he leaves. When his orders are finalized, I will request that Anne Fleurier and the Commandant allow me to leave their service. Germond and I can then be married before we depart for Tahiti. Oh, Clotilde, I can hardly believe that I may be leaving Nouvelle-Caledonie before Christmas. I have been waiting for an opportunity to tell you this news and today it has finally happened.’
    â€˜Congratulations, Satine and Germond. I wish you both much happiness. Please come and visit me before you finally leave. Father Gilbert will miss your organ playing so much.’
    Germond replied, ‘There are many ships carrying settlers that will arrive here during the next few years, Clotilde. Noumea will grow larger and another musician will surely be among the new arrivals.’
    Saying their farewells the two groups went their separate ways, but before the day was finished Clotilde experienced yet another surprise. When she reached her home, a letter from Mater Dei had been slipped under the front door. Tearing open the letter Clotilde noticed that the handwriting was not that of Sister Celeste, but belonged instead to Mother Germain. Sitting down at her schoolroom desk she began to read its contents.
    Our dear Clotilde,
    Over the past several years we have enjoyed receiving your letters and learning about the life you are experiencing on the other side of the world. All of us here at Mater Dei are very proud of your achievements, both as a teacher in the Government School and in the way you are living out your days as a fine young woman. Unfortunately this letter also contains a piece of news that will bring sadness to your heart.
    I know how close you were to Sister Celeste and how eagerly she awaited your letters. She loved you in a special way and always kept you in her prayers and thoughts.
    Several weeks ago a dreadful sickness spread through Paris and Sister Celeste became very ill with a high fever. We nursed her and prayed continually. Three days later as her fever increased, our dear Celeste died a peaceful death. On the night before she left us she whispered this message.
    â€˜Tell my dearest Clotilde that I will always love her and will keep watch over her in the years ahead.’ And so dear heart, we all send you our loving comfort and sympathy. Please keep your letters coming to us as we never forget ‘our girls.’
    With our love and prayers,
Mother Germain
    One cannot describe the deep feeling of loss that washed over Clotilde as she read these words. She would soon lose the joy and closeness of Satine’s presence and her only other experience of being loved was taken from her now, through the death of Sister Celeste. The terrible sense of aloneness and loss she had first experienced as a tiny child, brought to the Mater Dei Orphanage, nearly smothered her once again. She cried through the night until a deep sleep finally settled over her. In the following morning, sunshine streamed in through her bedroom window, bringing a new sense of hope and purpose. ‘Sister Celeste is with me,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I can feel her loving presence. She will watch over me and all will be well.’

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    SATINE was a radiant, beautiful bride. She and Germond were married on a glorious morning in the Church of Saint Joan. Clotilde and Yvonne were among many guests, including