Thornfield Hall
Jane Eyre's Hidden Story
Chapter One
Adèle
Tomorrow is the Pierrot in our pantomimes.
All facts look so much the more like fairy stories because, in our time, fairy stories take unconscionable pains to look like the truth.
—Balzac, Cousin Pons
We lived in Paris, in a house on a long, gloomy street, the rue Vaugirard in Montparnasse, but our house was far from being somber or sad. There were three stories: the maid Bettina under the eaves, with a little child’s bedroom next to it that I seldom occupied, as Maman allowed me to sleep on the chaise in the sitting room next to the pretty bedroom she had to herself. On the first floor lived old Tante Irène, who some said was the cousin of Herr Graff, whose house this really was—he who made a fortune from promoting the railroads in Baden. But in reality
Tante Irène was a milliner, and I would search for scraps for her all day: a feather from the park for a hat for the Comtesse Popinot, a twist of silk from Jenny’s latest costume (Jenn ... read full excerpt from: Thornfield Hall ebook
