My brother and I have always been close, despite the seven-year age
gap. We even look the same, gray -green eyes, brown hair, a quiet yet
outgoing nature, and the tendency to daydream. (Laughs) Father once said
that we spent more time with our head in the clouds than paying attention
with everyday events. I was sixteen when he left to study in Paris - he was
twenty-three.
We grew up in a rich household, - maids, servants, and the like. I
would tag along Jehan, following everything that he did. Our Mother and
Father were gentle, loving, and kind. Ready to encourage whatever we wanted
to do. Everything was perfect until Mother died in a carriage accident.
All of us were heartbroken, and things changed. Father grew more distant
-he withdrew from us and spent more time working and being alone.
We were changing to. Instead of playing outside for hours we would stay
inside and study or help around the house. Mother had a garden right behind
our house. After she died, Jehan started taking care of it. I took over
when he left to Paris. I remember he took a small plant from our garden,
and put it in a pot. " A small part of home," he had said. He wrote letters
whenever he could, or had time to, and came back to visit on birthdays,
holidays and such. Each time he came back he would tell me of how terrible
the streets of Paris were. He told me of a group of students - they called
themselves the L'ABC, or Abaisse. Fighting, he talked about. I was worried,
but he promised it wouldn't be more than a small skirmish. We had these
talks in private; I think to keep away from Father. I think he knew anyway.
I really don't think that Father approved of his political ideas, but he
wasn't one to disown him. He wouldn't want to lose another family member.