“Did you know that this very churchyard is the birthplace of the Sword in the Stone?” Catherine asked the children one day when the three of them were playing at knights. Christophe was Lancelot, as he was the boy, Isabelle took the role of Guinevere—but a Guinevere who could throw magic shot in the form of acorns (so long as they were only aimed at the legs), and the older Catherine had to be the dragon, biggest of the three. “I don’t believe you,” Christophe replied. “The Sword in the Stone is English.” “King Arthur is English, but the Sword in the Stone was from here at l’Église Saint-Georges,” Catherine instructed. “Our chapel is called l’Église Saint-Georges because this is where Saint Georges battled against the dragon.” They were listening now. “The beast reared up to breathe fire upon Georges, but the knight bravely took the advantage of the dragon’s exposed breast. He ran through the inferno and thrust his sword upward, through the serpent’s molten heart. After killing the dragon, Georges fainted from the heat and the fire. Upon waking, he found the animal dead beside him, its body cool. He tried to remove his sword from the dragon’s chest, but found it unyielding to his strength. Finally, Georges took out his hunting knife and carved away all the dragon’s flesh to get at the blade. He discovered that after the dragon died, all the lava in its mammoth heart had cooled and turned to stone, his own blade remaining stuck sure inside. The people built the church here and made of the Sword and Dragon’s Heart a relic, believing it gave good fortune to any who touched it.” “How did it get to England, then?” asked Christophe. “When Merlin was still a young man, he traveled all over the world to learn his wisdom, and he studied all the mystical and holy things. As he was returning home through France, he made his stop at this church where, seeing the Sword in the Stone, he had his vision of a boy king subduing all of Britain with a dragon’s power. Led by the dream, Merlin stole the Sword in the Stone and brought it back to England with him.” “Does the King of England have the sword now?” asked Isabelle. “Probably,” Catherine replied. “Then he should give it back. Arthur’s used it and now it belongs here.”

“Did you know that this very churchyard is the birthplace of the Sword in the Stone?” Catherine asked the children one day when the three of them were playing at knights. Christophe was Lancelot, as he was the boy, Isabelle took the role of Guinevere—but a Guinevere who could throw magic shot in the form of acorns (so long as they were only aimed at the legs), and the older Catherine had to be the dragon, biggest of the three. “I don’t believe you,” Christophe replied. “The Sword in the Stone is English.” “King Arthur is English, but the Sword in the Stone was from here at l’Église Saint-Georges,” Catherine instructed. “Our chapel is called l’Église Saint-Georges because this is where Saint Georges battled against the dragon.” They were listening now. “The beast reared up to breathe fire upon Georges, but the knight bravely took the advantage of the dragon’s exposed breast. He ran through the inferno and thrust his sword upward, through the serpent’s molten heart. After killing the dragon, Georges fainted from the heat and the fire. Upon waking, he found the animal dead beside him, its body cool. He tried to remove his sword from the dragon’s chest, but found it unyielding to his strength. Finally, Georges took out his hunting knife and carved away all the dragon’s flesh to get at the blade. He discovered that after the dragon died, all the lava in its mammoth heart had cooled and turned to stone, his own blade remaining stuck sure inside. The people built the church here and made of the Sword and Dragon’s Heart a relic, believing it gave good fortune to any who touched it.” “How did it get to England, then?” asked Christophe. “When Merlin was still a young man, he traveled all over the world to learn his wisdom, and he studied all the mystical and holy things. As he was returning home through France, he made his stop at this church where, seeing the Sword in the Stone, he had his vision of a boy king subduing all of Britain with a dragon’s power. Led by the dream, Merlin stole the Sword in the Stone and brought it back to England with him.” “Does the King of England have the sword now?” asked Isabelle. “Probably,” Catherine replied. “Then he should give it back. Arthur’s used it and now it belongs here.”

“That’s why she belongs in the kitchen. If people don’t stick to their proper stations in life, it makes everyone else miserable. Farmers will get dirt everywhere, stable hands manure, and scullery maids soot.” “Oh yes, that’s quite clever! And we would get perfume and make-up everywhere! Imagine if we were in the kitchen: the bread would get baked with our face powder instead of flour!” “We’d all starve!” Justine giggled. “Aren’t you glad we stay out of there, Cendrillon?”

“That’s why she belongs in the kitchen. If people don’t stick to their proper stations in life, it makes everyone else miserable. Farmers will get dirt everywhere, stable hands manure, and scullery maids soot.” “Oh yes, that’s quite clever! And we would get perfume and make-up everywhere! Imagine if we were in the kitchen: the bread would get baked with our face powder instead of flour!” “We’d all starve!” Justine giggled. “Aren’t you glad we stay out of there, Cendrillon?”

Céline’s voice lowered and she whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Is that what you want, ma fille? Is it? For that I cannot give, not Heaven.” “Are you not in Heaven, Maman?” Catherine barely breathed. “No, not there. Shall I tell you something about death, ma fillette? Not everyone has to choose between Heaven and Hell. There are other paths. Some of us find the idea of singing endless and unceasing praises just as baleful as shoveling coal. With all the pain there is in life, should not we come unto leisure in death?”

Céline’s voice lowered and she whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Is that what you want, ma fille? Is it? For that I cannot give, not Heaven.” “Are you not in Heaven, Maman?” Catherine barely breathed. “No, not there. Shall I tell you something about death, ma fillette? Not everyone has to choose between Heaven and Hell. There are other paths. Some of us find the idea of singing endless and unceasing praises just as baleful as shoveling coal. With all the pain there is in life, should not we come unto leisure in death?”