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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a82fac4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66592 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66592) diff --git a/old/66592-0.txt b/old/66592-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3d3168b..0000000 --- a/old/66592-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2431 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Last Duchess of Belgarde, by Molly -Elliott Seawell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Last Duchess of Belgarde - -Author: Molly Elliott Seawell - -Release Date: October 22, 2021 [eBook #66592] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by University - of California libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST DUCHESS OF BELGARDE *** - - -[Illustration] - - - - -_The Last Duchess of Belgarde_ - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: TRIMOUSETTE.] - - - - - _The - Last Duchess - of Belgarde_ - - _By - Molly Elliot Seawell_ - - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - NEW YORK MCMVIII - - - - -[Illustration] - - COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - _Published June, 1908_ - - - - - TO - THE DEAR MEMORY OF - HENRIETTA - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PART ONE - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I.--TRIMOUSETTE 3 - - II.--THE DUCHESS OF BELGARDE 18 - - - PART TWO - - III.--A PRESENT FROM THE DUKE 29 - - IV.--MADAME DE VALENÇAY 35 - - V.--THE EARTHQUAKE 53 - - - PART THREE - - VI.--DIANE’S OPINION 63 - - VII.--CITIZENESS BELGARDE 72 - - VIII.--THE BEGINNING OF THE HONEYMOON 83 - - XIX.--TO-MORROW 96 - - X.--THE STAR 107 - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHARACTERS - - - TRIMOUSETTE - COUNTESS OF FLORAMOUR - COUNT VICTOR OF FLORAMOUR - FERNAND, DUKE OF BELGARDE - MADAME DE VALENÇAY - ROBESPIERRE - LOUIS FRÉDÉRIC, VICOMTE D’ARONDA - MADAME ELIZABETH - -[Illustration] - - - - -_PART ONE_ - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER I - -TRIMOUSETTE - - -In the great, green old garden of Madame, the Countess of Floramour, -sat her granddaughter, little Mademoiselle Trimousette, wondering -when she was to be married and to whom. Such an enterprise was afoot, -and even then being arranged, but nobody, so far, had condescended to -give Trimousette any of the particulars. She was stitching demurely -at her tambour frame, while in her lap lay an open volume of Ronsard. -Every now and then her rosy lips murmured the delicious verses of the -poet. A very pale, quiet little person was Mademoiselle Trimousette, -with a pair of tragic black eyes, and something in her air so soft, -so pensive, so appealing, that it almost made up for the beauty she -lacked. Although the only granddaughter of the rich, the highly born -and the redoubtable Countess of Floramour, little Trimousette was the -very soul of humility, and in her linen gown and straw hat might have -passed for a shepherdess of Arcady. - -A clump of gnarled and twisted rose trees made a niche for her small -white figure on the garden bench. To one side was the yew alley, where -the clipped hedge met overhead, making the alley dark even in the May -noontime. Before Trimousette stood, in a little open space, a cracked -sundial, on which could still be made out in worn letters the legend: - - _L’ombre passe, et repasse: - Sans repasser, l’homme passe._ - -This sounded very sad to little sixteen-year-old Trimousette; shadows -passed and re-passed; but men, passing once, passed forever. She -sighed, and then her young heart turned away to sweeter, brighter -things as she again took up her tambour frame. She knew the motto on -the sundial well, did little Trimousette, but it always made her sad, -from the time she first spelled it out in her childish days. However, -her heart refused to give it more than one little sigh to-day, as she -turned again to her embroidery and to her love dream. If only she -was to be married to the Duke of Belgarde--that splendid, daredevil -duke, whom she had once seen face to face, and to whom she had yielded -her innocent heart and all her glowing imagination! Her grandmother, -the old countess, who was frightfully pious, probably would not let -little Trimousette marry the duke, not even if he asked her; the Duke -of Belgarde could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be called -a pious person. But Trimousette believed firmly that all the wild -duke needed to make him a model of propriety was a little tender -remonstrance and perhaps a kiss or two-- Here Trimousette held her -embroidery frame up to her eyes to hide the hot blushes that leaped -into her pale cheeks. - -Presently came striding along the garden path the fierce old Countess -of Floramour, as tall as a bean pole, and with a voice like an -auctioneer. - -“It is all arranged,” she said to little Trimousette, “and you are to -be married to the Duke of Belgarde.” - -The blood dropped out of Trimousette’s face, like water dashed from -a vase. She had risen when she saw the old countess approaching. -Everybody rose when the old countess approached, for she was a martinet -to the backbone. The volume of Ronsard fell out of Trimousette’s lap, -and Madame de Floramour pounced upon it. - -“Reading poetry, indeed!” she cried indignantly; “precious little use -will you find for poetry when you are a duchess. You will be visiting -morning, noon, and night, until you can hardly stand upon your legs, -and receiving visits until your head swims, or going to balls and routs -when you should be in bed, and trailing after their Majesties until you -are ready to drop, and racking your brain for compliments to frowsy old -women and doddering old men, and doing everything you don’t want to -do--that’s being a duchess. Still, it is a fine thing to be a duchess.” - -Dark-eyed Trimousette scarcely heard anything of this; her ear had -caught only the words--“the Duke of Belgarde”--and she was dazzled and -stunned with the splendid vision that rose before her like magic at the -speaking of the winged words. Nevertheless, she managed to gasp out: - -“And when am I to be married, grandmamma?” - -“When you see my coach with six horses drive into the courtyard, -miss--then you are to be married, and not before.” - -With this the old countess stalked off, and Trimousette fell into -a rapturous dream, her head resting upon her hand. So motionless -was she that a pair of bluebirds, still in their honeymoon, cooed -and chirped almost at her feet. The world held but one object for -Trimousette at that moment--the Duke of Belgarde. She knew his first -name--Fernand--and her lips involuntarily moved as if speaking it. A -heavenly glow seemed to envelop the old garden, the sundial with its -melancholy motto, the dark yew walk, bathing them in a golden glory. -Before her dreamy eyes returned the vision of the day she had seen the -Duke of Belgarde, and had laid her innocent, trembling heart at his -feet, just as a subject bows before his king, without waiting to be -told. It was exactly a year ago, on a May day, and it was close by the -Tuileries gardens. Madame de Floramour’s great coach was drawn up, -waiting to see King Louis the Sixteenth and Queen Marie Antoinette pass -to some great ceremony at Notre Dame. The duke in a gorgeous riding -dress, and superbly horsed, was among the courtiers, and on seeing a -certain beautiful lady, Madame de Valençay, he dismounted, and stood -uncovered talking with her, the sun gleaming upon his powdered hair, -and making his sword hilt shine as a single jewel. How well Trimousette -remembered Madame de Valençay’s glorious blonde beauty! She seemed, -in her pale violet satin robe that matched the color of her eyes, a -part of the splendid pageant of earth and sky that day. At the first -sight of her a sudden, sharp, jealous pain rent Trimousette’s little -heart. Instantly she realized that she was small and pale, and her gown -was dull in color. The duke scarcely saw her, as he left Madame de -Valençay’s side long enough to speak to the old countess. Trimousette, -making herself as small as possible in the corner of the coach, was, -as usual, completely swamped by Madame de Floramour’s enormous hoop, -tremendous hat and feathers, and voluminous fan. The old lady, who had -a fierce virtue which she would not have hesitated to cram down the -throat of the King himself, was lecturing the duke upon the sin of -gaming, to which he was addicted, along with several other mortal sins. -He listened with laughing, impenitent eyes, and grinning delightfully, -swore he would make public confession of his sins and lead a life -thereafter as innocent as that of the daisies of the field. Behind -him, while he was talking, shone the lovely, fair face of Madame de -Valençay, all dimpling with smiles. - -Not the least notice did the duke take of little Trimousette until, the -old countess preparing to alight and walk about while waiting for their -Majesties, Trimousette stepped timidly out of the coach after her. One -vagrant glance of the duke’s fell upon Trimousette’s little, little -feet, encased in beautiful red-heeled shoes, and, as he turned away -with a low bow and a sweep of his hat, Trimousette’s quick ear heard -him say to a companion standing by: “What charming little feet!” - -From that day Trimousette’s innocent head had been full of this -adorable, impudent scapegrace of a duke. She did not, like older and -wiser women, try to put him out of her mind, but cherished her idyl, -as young things will; only, he seemed too far above her and beyond -her. And the beautiful Madame de Valençay was certainly better suited -to so splendid a being as the Duke of Belgarde than a small creature -like herself, so Trimousette thought. But she had not read the story of -Cinderella for nothing--and small feet had carried the day in that case -over beauty in all its pride. - -The duke divided the empire of Trimousette’s soul with her brother, -Count Victor of Floramour, who was an edition in small of the Duke of -Belgarde, whom he ardently admired and earnestly copied, especially -in his debts. Count Victor had succeeded in piling up quite a -respectable number of obligations, but unlike the Duke of Belgarde, -who feared nobody, Victor was in mortal terror of his grandmother, -the old countess. She held the reins tight over her grandson as over -everybody else, and gave him about enough of an allowance to keep him -in silk stockings. Being an officer of the Queen’s Musketeers, Victor -had a great many opportunities to spend money, which he alleged was a -solemn duty he owed her Majesty, the Queen. This was devoutly believed -by Trimousette, but the old countess scoffed at it. Trimousette had -determined, if she made a rich marriage, she would ask her husband -to pay Victor’s debts, even if they were so much as a thousand louis -d’ors--and now--ah, sweet delight!--she was to be married to the -finest, the most beautiful duke in the world, who no doubt was as -rich as he was grand. The thought of Madame de Valençay disturbed -Trimousette a little, but she believed if she was very sweet and loving -with the duke, and sang him pretty little songs, and always wore -enchanting red-heeled shoes, he would soon forget Madame de Valençay. - -The duke had more than one splendid château, but Trimousette had heard -of the small old castle of Boury, on the coast of Brittany, where the -duke was born. Thither Trimousette decided they would go directly they -were married; for, of course, the duke--or Fernand, as Trimousette -already called him in her thoughts--would ask her where she wished to -go. In her day dream she saw the place--an old stone fortalice, perched -on the brown Breton rocks, with a garden of hardy shrubs and flowers, -straying almost to the cliff, and seagulls clanging overhead in the -sharp blue air. There would Trimousette and her duke live like their -Majesties at the Little Trianon, where the Count d’Artois milked the -cow, and Queen Marie Antoinette herself skimmed the cream from the milk -pails. The Queen, too, always wore a linen gown and a straw hat when -she was at the Little Trianon, and Trimousette would dress in the same -way at Boury. - -While all these idle, sweet fancies floated through her mind, like -white butterflies dancing in the sun, she glanced up and saw Victor -coming toward her. Victor did not march across the flower beds like -the old countess, but slinked along through the yew alley, in the -dull green light that brooded upon it even at noontide. He was like -Trimousette, only ten times handsomer, and gave indications of having -seen a good deal of life. To-day, it was plain he had been up all -night. He was unshaven, his hat had lost its jaunty cock, his waistcoat -was wine-stained, and the lace on his sleeves had been badly damaged -in a romp with some very gay ladies about four o’clock that morning. - -Victor beckoned to Trimousette, and she rose and went into the cool, -dark alley with him where they were quite secure from observation. -Then, taking Trimousette’s hand, he kissed it gallantly. - -“So you want to be a duchess, my little sister,” he said, laughing, -yet kindly. “I hope you will be happy, but don’t get any nonsense in -your romantic head about you and Belgarde living like a pair of blue -pigeons in an almond tree. Belgarde is a gay dog if ever I saw one. We -were together last night--and look!” Victor showed his tattered ruffles -and battered hat, and touched his unshaven chin. “We went to a little -supper together, which began at midnight, and is just over now within -the hour.” - -Trimousette firmly believed that she would be able to cure her duke of -his taste for such suppers, but she was too timid to put her belief in -words. She said, however, after a blushing pause: - -“One thing I mean to ask the duke as soon as we are married, and that -is for some money to pay your debts, dear Victor.” - -At that Victor sat down on the ground and laughed until he cried. - -“You are as innocent as the birds upon the bushes, my little duchess,” -he said. “Belgarde pay my debts! He cannot pay his own.” - -“But yours cannot be so very large,” urged Trimousette earnestly. “If -it were even as much as a thousand louis d’ors, I should ask the duke -to give it to me, and if he loved me--” - -She paused with downcast eyes, and Victor stopped laughing and looked -at her with pity. What an innocent, affectionate, guileless child she -was, and what a lesson lay before her! - -“My debts amount to a good deal more than a thousand louis d’ors,” he -responded, smiling in spite of himself at Trimousette’s simplicity. -“You will have a good many thousands of louis d’ors at your command, -my little duchess, but you will need them all yourself; for Belgarde -will have his wife finely dressed, and your hotel and equipages must be -suitable to your rank.” - -“I shall always be able to spare a little for you, Victor,” answered -Trimousette, looking at him with adoring eyes. - -“Belgarde will not mind the money; he is a free-handed, generous -fellow, as brave as my sword. But you must not try to domesticate him, -you must become gay like himself. Belgarde told me on our way home just -now that everything had been arranged, and that he meant to treat you -well. I answered, if he did not, I would run him through the body; and -so I will.” - -At which Trimousette was frightened half to death, and replied: - -“Then if he treats me ill, I will never let you know anything about -it.” - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER II - -THE DUCHESS OF BELGARDE - - -Never was a bride less burdened with the details of her marriage than -was Mademoiselle Trimousette. Her grandmother arranged the settlements, -provided the trousseau, and did not even let Trimousette see the -marriage presents, which the duke sent in a couple of large hampers, -until the day before the wedding. - -The duke did not take the trouble to see his little bride in advance -of the formal betrothal, which took place the week after Trimousette -had sat and stitched by the old sundial in the garden. The betrothal -ceremony took place in the grandest of all of the grand saloons in the -hotel of Madame de Floramour. Everything was done in splendor, and the -bride herself, for the first time in her life, was expensively dressed -and wore jewels. When she entered the grand saloon on Victor’s arm, her -eyes were downcast, and she felt as if she were under some enchanting -spell. She saw nothing but her adorable duke, with his laughing eyes, -and dashing figure, and slim, sinewy hands over which fell lace ruffles. - -The duke glanced at his bride with good-humored indifference. She -was too young, too unformed to reveal what she might yet become, but -she looked so gentle, so unresisting, that she appeared to be a very -suitable duchess for a duke who took his pleasure wherever he found -it. The only thing he noticed especially about her were her dainty -feet, in little white satin shoes, and her black eyes, hidden under -her downcast lids. He recognized the melancholy glory of her eyes, but -thought them too tragic for everyday use. Personally, he much preferred -Madame de Valençay’s blue orbs, languid, yet sparkling. That charming -lady was present, and appeared in nowise chagrined. Shortly before the -betrothal, she had suggested to the duke that she should put the Count -de Valençay out of the way, in order to make a vacancy in his shoes for -the duke; de Valençay was always ailing, and could easily be made a -little more so. The duke declined the proposition, as every other man -has done to whom it has been made since the dawn of time. But he had -assured Madame de Valençay that neither a husband nor a wife counted -in an all-consuming passion such as theirs, and she believed him. The -future duchess pleased Madame de Valençay quite as much as Trimousette -pleased the duke. Surely, that small, timid, almost voiceless creature -ought not and should not stand in the way of two determined lovers like -the Duke of Belgarde and Madame de Valençay. - -Few persons present took any more notice of the young bride than did -the prospective bridegroom. The betrothal ceremony was soon over and -then a great dinner was served, at which the future Duchess of Belgarde -sat next the duke at table. Amid the crowd of merry faces, the cheerful -noise and commotion of a betrothal dinner, the lights and the flowers, -Trimousette saw only the duke’s handsome, laughing, careless face, and -heard only his ringing voice. She was so quiet and still during it all -that it touched the duke a little, although he had frankly determined -in advance he would not trouble himself very much about his future -duchess. He was impelled, however, by a certain careless kindness, -which was a part of his nature, to pay her a few small compliments. -The blood rushed to Trimousette’s face and she raised her black eyes -to his with an expression of adoration at once desperate and shy, so -that the duke privately resolved not to encourage her to fall in love -with him any more than she was already. Nothing was more inconvenient, -thought the duke, than a wife who is in love with her husband, except -perhaps a husband who is in love with his wife. - -The next night the wedding was celebrated. First there was a great -supper and ball preceding the ceremony, which took place at midnight, -according to the fashion of the age, at Notre Dame. It was a very grand -wedding indeed. The King and Queen were represented, and half the old -nobility of France was present. In fact, there was so much of rank and -grandeur that the bride was as nearly insignificant as a bride could -well be. Her costume was very gorgeous; she blazed with jewels, which -came from she knew not where, and she was attended by six young ladies -of the highest rank, whom she had never before seen. When Trimousette -entered the first of the magnificent saloons, her eyes timidly traveled -over the splendors before her. Some of the great rooms were devoted to -cards, others to dancing, where an orchestra of twenty-four violins -played, after the manner of the orchestra of Louis the Fourteenth, at -whose court Madame de Floramour had been a shining light. In another -huge hall a superb supper was served by a hundred liveried lackeys, -wearing wedding favors. - -But the only familiar faces the little bride saw were her brother -Victor’s and her grandmother’s iron countenance, grimly resplendent -under a towering headdress of diamonds and red feathers. Yes, there -was another face she knew well, though she had seen it but twice--the -lovely rosy-lipped Madame de Valençay. Trimousette, for all her -outward timidity, had a shy and silent courage, which appeared when -least expected. She did not really fear Madame de Valençay, with all -her wit and beauty, for love is the universal conqueror. So thought -simple Trimousette. The duke was quite civil to his bride, and she -mistook his civility for the beginnings of love, and thought him more -adorable than ever. - -Half an hour before midnight a great string of coaches, with running -footmen carrying torches, started for the Cathedral of Notre Dame, -where the Archbishop of Paris, with the assistance of a whole batch of -cardinals, was to perform the marriage ceremony. The night, radiant -and rose-scented, was the loveliest of June nights. The crowds along -the streets hustled and pushed and scrambled good-naturedly to get a -sight of the young bride. All agreed that she was not half handsome -enough for the beautiful, superb Duke of Belgarde, and such, indeed, -was the bride’s own opinion. The duke was in the gayest spirits. The -more he saw of his bride, the better she seemed suited to him. She -was certainly the meekest, most inoffensive creature on earth, and if -only she would not insist on making love to him, it would be an ideal -marriage--for the Duke of Belgarde. He congratulated himself that he -had not yielded to the seductions of Madame de Valençay when that -spirited and fascinating lady had offered to put her husband out of the -way to please the duke. - -The wedding train, as it swept up the great aisle of Notre Dame, blazed -with splendor. In it was the Count d’Artois, who not only milked the -cow charmingly at the Little Trianon, but danced adorably on the tight -rope. The main altar of the old Cathedral, with its thousands of -candles, sparkled like a single jewel. The huge organ thundered under -the echoing arches, and the great bells in the towers clashed out -joyfully their wedding music to the quiet stars in the heavens. The -melody, the beauty, the glory of it all found an echo in the tender, -simple heart of the new Duchess of Belgarde. - -[Illustration] - - - - -_PART TWO_ - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER III - -A PRESENT FROM THE DUKE - - -Instead of a honeymoon at Boury, the old Breton castle on the cliffs -over the sounding seas, where the salt spray upon the crumbling towers, -the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde had a racketing time at the Château -de Belgarde. This was a great palace of a place in the neighborhood -of Versailles. There was incessant dancing, dining, and merry-making -for three whole weeks, and the meek, silent little bride grew so tired -she could scarcely stand upon her pretty feet. Madame de Valençay was -much in evidence, and was easily the loveliest of all the lovely women -at the Château de Belgarde. A vague uneasiness came into the heart of -the little duchess whenever she looked upon this beautiful blue-eyed -creature always radiantly dressed. Trimousette, however, still believed -that she could soon make her duke fall as deeply in love with herself -as she was irretrievably in love with him. He was certainly kind to -her, so thought Trimousette with deep delight in her innocent heart. -She did not observe that the duke’s kindness to her was exactly like -his kindness to his faithful hound, Diane, who had broken both her -forelegs in his service, and though unable to hunt, limped about -after him with the desperate devotion of that most sentimental of all -creatures except a woman--a dog. The duke did, indeed, show a sort of -protective instinct toward his silent, shy, black-eyed young wife, and -she noticed that Madame de Valençay was more civil to her when the -duke was by than when he was not. But it must be admitted that the -Duchess of Belgarde was shamefully bullied in her own house from the -day of her marriage by Madame de Valençay. Trimousette bore it with -the quiet, wordless courage which enabled her to bear many things in -silence, and she continued to mistake her husband’s casual good will -for the beginnings of love in its infancy. One day, less than a month -after her marriage, came the awakening. The duchess saw a jeweler from -Paris at the door of the duke’s room. The duke was holding in his hand -a blue, heart-shaped locket with diamonds in it. - -“I will take this,” he said, “for one hundred louis.” - -He did not see his duchess who was passing a little to the back of -him. A palpitating joy shot through Trimousette’s heart. What were all -the jewels and laces and furs and silks in her marriage presents from -the duke compared to that charming little jeweled heart, which he was -choosing for her! The duke thrust the trinket in his breast, dismissed -the man, and then turning, for the first time saw his duchess walking -along the broad, bright corridor, flooded with the glow of the summer -morning. As he was going the same way, he walked after Trimousette, and -like a gentleman he uttered some little phrase of compliment. In all -honesty, he preferred her as his wife a million times more than Madame -de Valençay, whom he could have married, if only he had agreed to have -the present incumbent put out of the way. A submissive person was what -the duke particularly desired for a wife, and he had got one. - -The little duchess’s heart beat so with joy when her husband joined -her that she was almost suffocated, and could only say “Yes” and “No” -when the duke talked to her. He was obliged to admit, however, after a -few minutes of this, as they passed through the long, sunlit corridor -out upon the gay terrace, that his bride had not much conversational -power. And standing on the terrace, surrounded by gentlemen, was Madame -de Valençay, entertaining them all with the most amusing badinage, and -every word sparkled. She seemed to embody the very spirit of the rosy -morn with her shining eyes, her ringing voice, her gown of a jocund -yellow. - -Nevertheless, for Trimousette this trifling attention of the duke -toward her filled her soul with rapture. There was a great ball that -night at the château, and she dressed herself for it with gayety of -heart in a very unbecoming gown selected for her by her fierce old -grandmother. Her innocent, hidden hope and pleasure lasted until she -entered the ballroom to receive her guests. There, amid the jewels -sparkling upon Madame de Valençay’s breast, lay the little blue -enameled heart. - -Something as near resentment as Trimousette could feel stirred within -her, and her dark eyes grew sombre. She had a sudden illumination. -Never more would she mistake the duke’s careless kindness for the -beginnings of love. But with the illumination of her mind rose up -that latent, still, wordless courage which enabled her to bear almost -unbearable things without one sign of pain. She was but a girl of -seventeen, this injured wife, this insulted duchess; she knew nothing -of retaliation, she only knew how to suffer silently and with dignity. -No one, not even her brother Victor, should know of the cruel affront -put upon her in the first month of her marriage. She forced herself to -talk and even to smile, and Victor, who was afraid that Trimousette -would never look or speak or walk or act as a great duchess should, -began to have some hopes of her. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IV - -MADAME DE VALENÇAY - - -The gayety and racketing went on during the whole year at one place or -another--the Château de Belgarde, other châteaus, Paris and Versailles. -Trimousette saw Madame de Valençay oftener than any other woman of her -acquaintance. Madame de Valençay was fairly polite, but in her eyes -and smile lurked a kind of insolence which the reticent young duchess -understood quite well, but of which she made not the slightest sign. -She had no more liberty and not much more money as Duchess of Belgarde -than when she lived in her grandmother’s house as a little demoiselle. -There was much to buy and to give, and besides, ever since King Louis -the Sixteenth called the States General together, the peasants had -refused to pay their rents and even their taxes, and the work people -demanded their money with threats and curses. So far from having a -thousand louis d’ors with which to pay Victor’s debts, the poor little -duchess had only managed, by skimping and saving in her own personal -expenses, to scrape together three hundred louis--and it was so little -she was ashamed to offer it to Victor. - -A year after her marriage Trimousette disappointed and offended the -duke very much by bringing into the world a daughter. A son would have -been welcomed; but a girl--well, the poor little thing, as if knowing -she was not wanted by anyone except her young mother, soon wailed her -life away. Trimousette grieved as one whose heart was broken, and wore -nothing but black. This still more annoyed the duke, but on this point -alone Trimousette showed a slight obstinacy. The duke wished her to -go about, to visit Versailles, to be seen at the theatre. The young -duchess humbly obeyed these instructions, but not in the spirit the -duke desired. Trimousette’s heart, poor lonely captive, beat against -its prison bars, and made its melancholy cry a little heard; then grew -silent. - -She led a life singularly lonely for a great lady who received twice in -the week, and who went to a ball nearly every night. Her grandmother -thought she had done enough in marrying Trimousette off to one of the -greatest dukes in France, and gave herself up to sermons, taking no -more thought of her granddaughter. Victor had his own amusements, as -became an officer of the Queen’s Musketeers and a gay dog. Only the -poor, broken-legged hound Diane seemed to seek Trimousette’s company, -and together the two creatures who loved the duke listened for his -footsteps, and hung timidly upon his words. - -But there was so great a noise of other things in Paris that private -woes were not much heeded. It was impossible for a lady to walk without -molestation upon the streets full of turbulent people, and it was -actually dangerous to drive about in a ducal coach. The pavements were -thronged by hungry creatures, both men and women, with menacing eyes, -and threatening, yelling voices, who had been known to scream and flout -ladies in their carriages, and to drag gentlemen from their horses and -maltreat them. Once Madame de Valençay, seeing Trimousette preparing -to go forth somewhat unwillingly in her coach, hinted that perhaps the -duchess was afraid. - -“Not in the least, madame,” answered Trimousette quietly. “Perhaps you -will join me in my coach and drive with me to the Palais Royal.” - -Madame de Valençay was so stunned by this proposal that she accepted -it, the duke standing by and wondering if his taciturn young duchess -had not lost her wits. - -The two ladies were assisted into the coach, which set off toward the -Palais Royal. It was about seven in the evening when the work of the -day was over and the streets were fullest of these ragged, starving -beings who had found voice at last, and shouted out the story of their -rags, their hunger, their misery, and their determination to punish -somebody for it. The splendid coach and six of the Duchess of Belgarde -was like showing a red rag to a bull. The mob surrounded it, hooting -and screaming, and wrenched the whips from the hands of the coachmen -and postilions, and the canes from the three footmen hanging on behind. -Madame de Valençay, who had started out laughing and defiant, grew -pale and then frightened, and when a wretched woman, with the glare of -famine in her eyes, dragged the coach door open and tore the ribbons -from Madame de Valençay’s hat, that lady fell to whimpering and almost -fainting with terror. Not so little Trimousette. It had been complained -of her often that she was too silent and impassive, and she remained -so now, giving no sign whatever of fear or uneasiness. She even smiled -with a faint contempt at Madame de Valençay’s terrors, and refused to -give orders for the coachman to return to the Hôtel de Belgarde until -they had made the circuit of the Palais Royal. When they returned, the -duke was awaiting them in the courtyard of the hotel. He was wondering -what would be the next miracle. Madame de Valençay had been so terribly -scared that she could not disguise it, and clamored to have not only -the duke, but all the men servants in the hotel to escort her home. -She looked a wreck, did this beautiful, gayly gowned lady, with her -hat in fragments, her fan broken, her clothes almost torn off her by -the furious, yelling, laughing crowd of women in the streets. Not so -Trimousette, in her sedate black gown, better suited to eighty than -eighteen. - -“I was not at all frightened,” she said to the duke, and if she had -not been so shy, she would have told him all about it. The coachmen -and footmen did this, however, and slyly, after the manner of their -kind, brought the duchess’s calm courage into contrast with Madame de -Valençay’s undignified screams and pleadings. - -The duke, who was insensible to fear himself, expected courage in -women, and was secretly disgusted with Madame de Valençay. Besides, -like most ladies of her sort, she was beginning to hound the duke -with what she called her love. It had grown more insistent since his -marriage to the quiet little Trimousette, who appeared not to know -there was such a thing as faithlessness in the world. The duke chafed -a little under Madame de Valençay’s shameless pursuit of him. Not -being a courageous woman she did not venture into the streets when the -people became turbulent; but they were not always turbulent, the poor, -starving people. Although herself often afraid to go out, Madame de -Valençay did not mind sending out her running footmen, and the Duke of -Belgarde could scarcely leave his own door without a lackey in Madame -de Valençay’s livery poking a scented pink note at him. The duke ground -his teeth, and dimly recognized that his friend, as he called her, -harassed and worried him, and indeed hen-pecked him more in two weeks -than his pale, quiet little duchess had done in the whole two years of -their married life. Nevertheless, Madame de Valençay’s glorious and -vivid beauty enchanted him, and made him sometimes forget Trimousette’s -very existence. He even forgot to compliment her little feet, which -Trimousette still, with a faint, foolish hope in her heart, dressed in -charming little shoes, the only patch of coquetry or vanity about her. - -The people, meanwhile, were growing more and more unruly, and at last -one day a mob of dressmakers, washerwomen, cooks, and the like, headed -by a tall, red-faced laundress, almost as fierce as the old Countess -of Floramour, began a round of domiciliary visits to persons who owed -them money. They went to many hotels, including that of Madame de -Valençay, who ordered all the doors to be double locked, and ran up to -her bedroom, where she remained cowering and terrified, but unable to -escape the menaces and shouts of the crowd of haggard, savage women -in the courtyard, demanding their money to keep their children from -starving. They got nothing, however. - -Next, they visited the old Countess of Floramour, who came down boldly -enough to them, but gave them a sermon instead of money. She exhorted -them to live by Bible texts, and was indignant when the big red-faced -laundress replied that they could neither eat nor wear the Bible. -Thence the riotous women invaded the courtyard of the splendid Hôtel -de Belgarde. They had grown more noisy and the _dames de compagnie_ of -the duchess begged her not to go down to them. But Trimousette was of -all things least a coward, and taking from her escritoire the little -bag of gold she had saved up to pay Victor’s debts, descended the grand -staircase into the sunny courtyard, where the mob clamored and abused -the powdered and silk-stockinged footmen. Something in the aspect of -this pale, soft-eyed little duchess in her black gown, her hair tied -with a black ribbon, moved the wild hearts of these savage women, and -her voice, trembling and embarrassed, made them keep quiet in order to -hear her. - -“It is all I have,” she said, blushing and stammering as she handed -the bag to the big red laundress; “it is only a little more than three -hundred louis, and is not enough to pay you. If I had any more, I would -be glad to give it to you.” - -The crowd of women looked at her in surprise; she was the first great -lady they had visited so far who had given them a franc. The fierce -laundress became almost civil when she took the bag from Trimousette’s -hands. - -“We ask for our money, for we are starving. My little child died last -week because I have not for a year past had money enough to give her -good food. What do you think of that, madame?” she cried, her red face -suddenly growing pale and fiercer. - -“My little child died last year,” answered Trimousette, looking at the -woman before her with the kinship of motherhood; and then covering her -face with her hands, she burst into weeping. - -The mob was hungry and savage and ragged and hated duchesses in -general, but at the sight of the tears of this black-robed, pale -young girl they remained silent. The washerwoman wiped her eyes with -her apron, laid her hand on the arm of the weeping duchess, and said -roughly: - -“It is like this with all of us, we women, duchesses and washerwomen -alike. Every one of us has a little pair of wooden shoes, or a cap, or -something that belonged to a dead child. But ours died because we could -not buy them enough to eat.” - -The little duchess wept again at this, but presently drying her eyes, -she said: - -“I will do all I can to pay you.” - -Trimousette did not think it necessary to mention this adventure to -the duke. She did not see him every day even when he was in Paris, and -besides, when she tried to tell him things, she always grew frightened -and the words died upon her lips. The servants, however, told the -duke of it when he came home in the evening. He had spent most of -the intervening time trying to quiet Madame de Valençay, who was in -paroxysms of terror. The duke grew every day more bored by his friend, -and concluded to spend the evening at home, in order to escape Madame -de Valençay and her scoundrelly running footmen, who watched his -comings and goings as if he were a criminal. - -For the third or fourth time since his marriage he sought, of his own -free will, his wife’s society. She spent her evenings in a little -room on the ground floor of the Hôtel de Belgarde which opened upon -the garden. When Trimousette heard the duke’s knock, she thought -it was Victor’s and ran to open the door. The sight of her husband -disconcerted her so that she stopped and hesitated awkwardly, quite -unlike Madame de Valençay, who could not be awkward if she tried. - -Diane, the broken-legged hound, who was Trimousette’s constant -companion, licked the duke’s hand, and gave a soft whine of delight. -Trimousette, whose heart fluttered whenever she saw her husband, was -undemonstrative and inarticulate. The duke, after politely greeting his -duchess, and patting Diane’s head, walked to the fireplace, where a -little blaze crackled. The time was September, and there was an autumn -sharpness in the air. - -“I am afraid you were alarmed to-day by that mob of wretched women,” -said the duke presently, as he warmed his hands at the fire, the mantel -mirror reflecting his handsome face and figure. - -“No,” replied Trimousette timidly, “I was not frightened.” - -The duke stroked his chin reflectively. Silent women like his duchess -were sometimes preferable to those who shrieked and screamed at the -least provocation, like his friend Madame de Valençay. - -Having said so much Trimousette picked up her embroidery frame -and, seating herself, began to embroider. The duke, looking at her, -congratulated himself that she had lost the habit of blushing and -starting every time he spoke to her, which, for a while after his -marriage, made him apprehend that she might fall in love with him and -that would have been excessively annoying. Meanwhile, Trimousette’s -heart was palpitating faintly, and her black eyes were cast down -because she was too embarrassed to look up. - -“I think,” said the duke, “it would be as well to go to the Château de -Belgarde a little earlier this year.” - -He was thinking that he must get away for a time from Madame de -Valençay’s cursed running footmen perpetually chasing him with her pink -notes. Trimousette felt a sudden access of courage, which nerved her to -say, almost boldly: - -“Would it not be pleasanter to go to Boury?” - -“That little dungeon in Brittany!” cried the duke, laughing. - -“But it is so quiet and peaceful there,” continued Trimousette, -blushing at her own boldness. “I think I--I--should like to go to -Boury.” - -It was the first time since their marriage that she had ever proffered -a request; and the duke, like most imperial masters, was sometimes -capable of a generous action. Besides, it occurred to him that Madame -de Valençay would scarcely follow him to Boury. - -All at once, while the duke stood hesitating, the duchess’s shyness -vanished for one brief moment, and she became positively eloquent. - -“I know all about it,” she said, clasping her hands eagerly; “it is by -the sea, and there is a garden running to the cliffs, with plants so -hardy that even the fierce sea winds cannot kill them. And there are -beautiful woods and fields, and you--I--we could read in the mornings, -and in the afternoons you could go out with your fowling piece, and -in the evenings--” She stopped, trembling and quite unable to put into -words the enchanting dream that rose before her. The quiet evenings -tête-à-tête with the duke, he reading perhaps--he sometimes read the -works of Monsieur Voltaire and Monsieur Rousseau. And she would sit -by working at her tambour frame, with Diane, her faithful friend and -sympathizer, at her feet. The vision that hovered in Trimousette’s mind -was not reflected in the duke’s. He only saw that his quiet little -duchess wished very much to go to Boury, and had made the longest and -boldest speech he had ever heard from her lips. - -“Then, madame,” he cried, “I will consider what you say. At all events, -we will leave Paris, and possibly we may dwell, like a pair of turtle -doves in a cage, for the space of a week at Boury.” - -When the duke went out, banging the door after him, Trimousette -actually danced about the room in her joy and triumph. She would have -him at the little country place all to herself, and for one whole -week. There would be no brazen intrusion of Madame de Valençay, and -perhaps--perhaps the duke might forget her; and then would come true -that dream of the honeymoon--for Trimousette had never had a honeymoon. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER V - -THE EARTHQUAKE - - -This rosy vision of Boury with her duke lasted Trimousette just -twenty-four hours. The duke, on reflection, concluded that Boury was -too far away from Paris, where all was tumult and uncertainty. It -was not too far away from Madame de Valençay, of whom the duke was -now almost weary, but for him to go to Brittany might look as if -he were running away from their Majesties, who were in very great -danger. So, the next evening, the duke again came into Trimousette’s -little room and told her it was not Boury to which they would go, but -Belgarde, near to Versailles. He even condescended to give his reasons. -Trimousette listened with a mute, unmoved face. She was so used to -disappointments that she took them without protest. Of course, she -thought the real reason was Madame de Valençay, and when the duke left -the room, she went and looked at herself in the mirror. - -“No, Trimousette,” she said to herself, “you are not pretty; your eyes -are dark, and you have long, soft, black hair, and little feet. But -that is not beauty. Nor is the love of the most splendid duke in France -for you, although you may be his wife.” - -The duke invited a great party to spend the week at the château, -and the little duchess went soberly through her duties as hostess. -Everybody said she was much too quiet, which was true. Others said she -had no feeling, which was ridiculously false. - -The party was very gay. The world was rapidly turning upside down. -Nobody had any money, the black clouds and red lightnings and -earthquake shocks were bewildering men’s minds, so the only thing to do -was to laugh, to dance, to sing. - -That is what the company at the Château de Belgarde did, the duke -leading all the wild spirits in the party. - -The one comfort the little duchess had was that her brother Victor was -among the roysterers. He was ever kind to her, but like her husband, a -trifle careless. Victor was working night and day at a little play, to -be produced in the private theatre at Belgarde. It was meant to shadow -forth the final triumph of the aristocracy over the people, who were -making themselves to be seen and heard and felt at every turn. The play -was to be produced on the night before the party broke up. - -Now, it was the fixed and grim determination of the duke that Madame -de Valençay should not track him to Belgarde, to worry him. But the -lady was too clever for him. He could not prevent her from visiting a -neighboring château, and coming over with a large party to spend the -day at Belgarde, as country neighbors do everywhere. - -Never had Madame de Valençay looked more deliciously seductive than on -that day. She might have sat for one of Botticelli’s nymphs in her soft -wine draperies without a hoop, being in the country, her long fair hair -in curls about her shoulders, and wearing a hat crowned with roses. - -In contrast to this dazzling creature was the pale little duchess -sombrely dressed, her silence, which verged on awkwardness, placing her -at the greatest disadvantage beside the brilliant, rippling talk of -Madame de Valençay and her laughter like the music of a fountain. - -In one thing only did the duchess carry off the palm. Madame de -Valençay, like a peacock, was all beauty except her feet, which were -large and ill-shaped. The duchess’s small, arched feet looked smaller -than ever in the dainty black shoes with black silk stockings which she -wore. - -Trimousette had shown no sign of chagrin when Madame de Valençay -arrived with a merry party, all laughing and chattering like so many -birds in spring. It was a part of her reticent pride to make no -complaint, to show no uneasiness. The duke was furiously angry with -Madame de Valençay for hunting him down, but she was so beautiful, -she tripped up and down the terrace with such airy grace, she was so -wickedly merry at his expense, that, manlike, he forgave her. - -This week, which Trimousette had pictured to herself as so charming, -turned out to be one of the most trying of her life. She scarcely -saw her duke except in the evening when the saloons were full of -persons, and there was much fiddling and dancing. Nor did she see -much more of Victor, who was keen about his play. The very last -evening of all it was produced and was a huge success. By some sort of -hocus-pocus, Madame de Valençay had forced herself into the cast, and -made a divinely beautiful marquise, to whom the duke, as a soldier of -fortune, made violent love and made it well, too, his duchess looking -on with a face composed, almost dull. Victor himself was disguised -most bewitchingly as a ragpicker, and in his character denounced the -aristocracy furiously, to the uproarious delight of his audience. - -It was the most amusing thing in the world, and all the fine ladies and -gentlemen nearly died of laughing at it. The heart of the young duchess -alone did not respond to this ridicule of the earthquakes and the storm -clouds. She remembered the words of the washerwomen and the cooks, and -the strange glare in their eyes and their pinched faces. - -The gayety of the party lasted until midnight, when the ball after -the play and the supper was nearly over. Then a messenger, pale and -breathless with hard riding from Paris, arrived on a spent horse, and -told how the people had gone to Versailles and had carried the king -and queen and their children and Madame Elizabeth off to Paris. How -the king, foolish and shamefaced, had appeared on the balcony of the -Tuileries with the red cap of liberty on his head, and how the royal -people were no better than prisoners in that palace, and that Paris had -gone mad. - -There were no cowards among this party at the Château of Belgarde -except Madame de Valençay. Much as she loved the duke, she loved her -own skin better, and privately resolved to seek shelter in England -until the shower was over, not knowing it to be the deluge. - -The duke, who had not a drop of coward’s blood in him, started -for Paris at daylight. He took his duchess with him, not that he -particularly cared for her society, but because it did not enter his -rash head that anybody should be afraid of anything. So to Paris they -went, and on the next night the duke was visited by a deputation of -rapscallions calling themselves the National Guard, thrust into a -wretched hackney coach with a ruffian on each side of him, and cast -into the prison of the Temple as a conspirator against the liberties of -the people. - -[Illustration] - - - - -_PART THREE_ - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VI - -DIANE’S OPINION - - -It was one thing to catch the Duke of Belgarde and another thing -to keep him. Exactly one week from the night of his arrest and -imprisonment he was once more at large, and all through the courage, -resource, and seductive powers of his quiet, sombre-eyed, shrinking -young wife. Trimousette under a sharp spur became articulate, and the -latent vast energy and spirit she possessed was instantly developed -by blows and hammerings as sparks are struck from the dull black -flint. The night of the duke’s arrest Trimousette shed not one tear -on parting with the man she loved. The duke thought her rather -insensate and would have relished a few tears from her. Nevertheless, -Trimousette straightway set her wits, which were not inconsiderable, -to work in order to help her husband. She determined to see him. -Dressing herself in her simplest gown, for she accorded best with the -note of simplicity, and going straight to Marat, the most hideous and -abominable of men, she sweetly and calmly asked him to permit her to -see her husband for one half hour to settle some family affairs. Marat -thought he had never seen a simpler, more democratic young person than -this little duchess. He was very artfully flattered by Trimousette, who -had little or no experience in that line, but who being all a woman, -succeeded admirably at the first attempt. Marat, admiring Trimousette’s -large black eyes, agreed to do what he could. These eyes, usually -so tragic, assumed a smiling and brilliant expression as soon as -Trimousette was brought face to face with danger. Within twenty-four -hours after her meeting with Marat, she was admitted to an interview -with her husband in the prison of the Temple. - -Of course she was searched on entering and leaving the prison. It was -an ordeal which brought most great ladies to tears and reproaches, -but Trimousette bore it with something that savored both of dignity -and coquetry, and actually smiled when the ruffians who searched her -complimented her charming little feet. They did not observe, around the -bottom of her petticoat, yards and yards of flat silk braid, which made -really a good strong rope, nor did they discover, hidden in her thick -black hair, some gold pieces. When she was admitted to the cell of the -duke, he was the most surprised man in Paris, and more so still when -Trimousette, having suddenly found a very eloquent tongue, laid before -him a clever plan of escape, along with all the braid she was ripping -off her petticoat and the money out of her hair. The duke thought he -knew women--certainly he had seen a great deal of them ever since he -was a pretty page at the court of Louis the Fifteenth. But he had not -been much in the way of knowing true love, nor the magic which it works -in the heart of a woman. - -He gazed at his wife with something like admiration for the first time, -and was very gallant to her, kissing her hand. Trimousette did not now -mistake gallantry for love. She had grown wise upon disappointments. -She remained a short half hour, and then proudly, for all her humility, -would not wait to be notified, but left her husband’s cell, bidding -him good-by again without a tear. Certainly the duke shed no tears. He -was deeply grateful to his wife and profoundly astonished at the new -attitude she assumed. Immediately he busied himself with the schemes -for his escape planned by his wife. - -Three nights later, just before daylight, he dropped out of his prison -window into the garden of the Temple, and scampered off, the sentry -very obligingly turning his back until the duke was well out of sight. - -Great was the hue and cry raised after the Duke of Belgarde. No -suspicion attached to his little duchess, who was then on her way to -the small castle on the Breton coast. True, she had seen the duke, but -those who knew about these things, or thought they did, declared that -she was too timid, too silent, too young to assist in the bold plan of -escape which had freed her husband. - -Trimousette arrived at Boury under instructions from the duke to remain -there until she should get further directions from him. She reckoned -upon remaining a month; and stayed three years and a half. - -Never in the same space of time had so much happened in any country as -in France from 1789 to 1794. The old order that had lasted a thousand -years was engulfed, and black chaos reigned. The little duchess in -the old stone castle by the sea heard the reverberating thunders, and -felt the earth rocking under her feet, and saw the crashing wreck of -monarchy. She stirred not, having been told to remain tranquilly at -Boury until her lord should send her word otherwise. The duke was in -the thick of the tumult and was in danger every hour of the day and -night. He was sometimes a fugitive for his life; again he appeared -boldly in Paris and defied arrest. He was not one of those who would -have saved poor Louis the Sixteenth and Marie Antoinette by flight. -On the contrary, being of inextinguishable courage, he advised using -the strong hand, and would have had Louis the Sixteenth show something -of the spirit of Henry the Fourth. The thing which Fernand, Duke of -Belgarde, hated most was cowardice, and through this was he absolved -from the spell of Madame de Valençay. She had fled to England and never -ceased importuning the duke by letter to run away from France. The -duke on reading these letters would dash them under foot and trample -upon them in his fury. Nor would he answer them, considering himself -insulted by them. This did not keep Madame de Valençay from writing -them, because, unlike Trimousette, she was without pride. - -The duke made the handsomest possible thanks to his duchess for her -share in his escape, and really meant to show his appreciation of the -fact that she was the only woman who had ever helped him and never -bothered him. But too much was happening; rivers of blood were flowing -everywhere, and only those things which were insistent made any -impression on the duke, and Trimousette was the least insistent person -on earth. - -Nothing more unlike the sweet dream which Trimousette had planned -for Boury could be imagined than the life she led there for more than -three years. She was quite alone, except for her _dame de compagnie_, -a sour old lady of whom Trimousette was mortally afraid. True, she had -with her Diane, the broken-legged hound, now blind and scarcely able to -creep at Trimousette’s heel when the two walked together upon the rocky -shore at sunset to dream of the absent one. For Trimousette felt sure -Diane dreamed of her beautiful, brilliant master. In the long evenings -spent in the gloomy old saloon Trimousette would take in her hands -Diane’s trembling paws and whisper: - -“Diane, do you think he ever remembers us? Do you think he will ever -send for us?” - -And Diane would give a melancholy whine, indicating that she did not -believe the duke ever would. Sure enough the duke did not send for -either his wife or his dog, and poor Diane, weary of waiting, at last -lay down quietly one night by Trimousette’s bed and was found dead -next morning. - -Trimousette felt more alone than ever in her life when the poor lame -dog was dead. Soon after, she got news that Madame de Floramour had -died of chagrin at the disasters and irreligion into which France was -plunged; and last--ah, cruel stroke!--Victor fell fighting gallantly in -La Vendée. - -The young duchess bore these blows in patience and silence. The duke -managed to contrive a letter of sympathy to his duchess when the soul -of Victor de Floramour was called away. The letter was very ill-spelled -and ill-written, for the duke’s accomplishments were those of Henry the -Fourth--he could drink, he could fight, and he could be gallant to the -ladies, but he could not write, although he could think excellently -well. Trimousette treasured this rude scrawl. It was the nearest to a -love letter she had ever received from any man. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VII - -CITIZENESS BELGARDE - - -In the long days and months and years Trimousette spent at Boury she -was forced to employ herself. She had no great taste for books beyond -books of poetry, but she practiced on the cracked harpsichord which -had belonged to the duke’s mother, and she developed a pretty little -voice in which she sang to herself songs of love and longing. One -day, during the winter of 1794, Trimousette got some news from Paris. -Queen Marie Antoinette had followed King Louis to the guillotine, -and the Duke of Belgarde was once more in the prison of the Temple. -He got there by one of the few acts of stupidity he ever committed -in his life. He had slipped into Paris after the execution of Queen -Marie Antoinette, determined to save the little Dauphin if the wit -of man and the sacrifice of many lives could contrive it. Then came -in the stupidity. This duke, who could do everything superlatively -well except to write and spell, undertook to pass himself off as a -schoolmaster! Moreover, he wore a shabby brocade coat, the last remnant -of his wardrobe. Robespierre and St. Just then had France by the throat -and were wolfishly devouring her children. It did not take them long -to discover that this schoolmaster who could not spell was Fernand, -Duke of Belgarde, and they promptly clapped him into prison. For those -unfortunates imprisoned by these two men there was but one exit and -that was in the arms of Madame Guillotine, who held a well-attended -court at sunset every day in the Place de la Révolution. - -Within a fortnight Trimousette heard this grim news of her husband. -It was February, the ground was covered with snow, and for a duchess -to go to Paris was like putting one’s head in the lion’s mouth. All -this was urged upon Trimousette by her _dame de compagnie_. It had no -more effect upon her than the soft falling snow upon the Breton rocks. -Before midnight on the day she heard the heartbreaking news Trimousette -was on her way to Paris. She was not in her own ducal traveling -chariot, but in the common _diligence_, for this inexperienced creature -seemed gifted with a kind of prescience, nay, a genius of common sense, -which stood her in place of actual knowledge of the world. She traveled -as Madame Belgarde, wisely dropping the _de_, and absolutely alone, -refusing even to take a maid. - -Three days afterwards, on a March morning, Robespierre, the apostle -of murder, had just finished arraying himself in the sky-blue coat and -cream-colored breeches which he loved, when a lady was announced in -the anteroom. Robespierre loved the society of ladies, and one of the -privileges of his position as chief murderer was the sight of dainty -women prostrate before him, begging and imploring him for the lives of -their husbands, fathers, or sons. - -The lady in this case neither prostrated herself, nor begged, nor -implored. She was quite calm and self-possessed, and although not -beautiful had fine black eyes. After making Robespierre a charming -curtsey, she said, smiling: - -“Citizen Robespierre, I am Citizeness Belgarde, once known as the -Duchess of Belgarde, and I have come to ask that I be admitted to share -the imprisonment of my husband, once Duke of Belgarde.” - -Robespierre, who dearly loved a duchess, motioned Trimousette to be -seated, then said in his croaking voice after a moment: - -“There is no doubt your husband has conspired against the liberties of -the people, and the only way in which those liberties can be secured is -by the death of all those who would have destroyed liberty, like that -tyrant Louis Capet.” - -Now, thought Robespierre, she will begin to sob and beg for her -husband’s life. But not so. Trimousette reflected a moment, and then -said, softly and clearly: - -“The killing of his Most Christian Majesty and of the blessed Queen -Marie Antoinette was barbarous murder.” - -Robespierre started violently. No man, much less a woman, had dared -before to say so much to him. He looked with scowling green eyes at -Trimousette composed and even smiling slightly. - -“The National Assembly long since decreed the death of all who should -advance such treason,” he said, as soon as he could catch breath. - -“So I supposed,” replied Trimousette; “but if I can but be allowed in -my husband’s prison----” - -A light leaped into her black eyes as she spoke. Robespierre, stroking -his chin, regarded her critically. How would she go to the guillotine? -Probably quite quietly, without making the least outcry of resistance. - -“Now, Citizen Robespierre,” said Trimousette, rising and coming toward -him, “surely, you cannot refuse the request of a lady. I came to you -not only because you have all power, but because I knew you to be -gallant--a gentleman, in short.” - -So said the most sincere of women glancing at Robespierre with a -look dangerously near to coquetry as well as flattery, and nobody -had ever suspected this taciturn woman of being either a coquette -or a flatterer. Yet, being a woman, she could be both coquette and -flatterer for the man she loved. What perjuries will women commit for -love! Robespierre reflected and Trimousette smiled. He spoke and she -answered him with soft, insinuating words; and at last she got out of -him the written commitment, charging her, too, with conspiring against -the liberties of the people, and condemning her to be imprisoned with -her husband, Citizen Fernand Belgarde, in the prison of the Temple. - -Trimousette almost laughed aloud with joy when this grim document was -made out, and again gave Robespierre a bewitching little curtsey, such -as the most finished coquette might have done. She climbed joyfully -into the dirty cab with the dirtier gendarmes who were to deliver her -to the jailers in the Temple. - -It was a mild March afternoon when he who had once been Duke of -Belgarde sat at his prison window, looking down into the dreary old -garden of the Temple. The window was semicircular, reaching from the -floor half way to the low ceiling, and gave not much of sun or even -light. The duke was thinking, strangely enough, of his duchess. She -was a good little thing; shy, but not a born coward like the Valençay -woman--nay, somewhat indifferent to danger and, for a woman, averse -from shrieking and screaming, but timid in her attitude toward life. -She had certainly showed some ingenuity in forwarding his escape three -years and a half ago. The duke had made up his mind upon his arrest -that there was not much chance of a duke and peer of France escaping -the guillotine, and so quite coolly accepted the certainty that his -name would soon be in the list which was posted up every morning, of -those for whom the tumbrils would wait at seven o’clock in the evening. -As his inexpertness with the pen had got him into his present plight, -the duke determined to remedy that defect in his education. He had -on his incarceration gravely explained to the turnkey that there -might not be much use for writing in purgatory, where he declared all -gentlemen went--the revolutionists going to eternal punishment, and the -ladies to heaven. Nevertheless, he meant to improve his handwriting. -On this March afternoon the duke, seated at a rickety table, was busy -practicing his new accomplishment of writing, when he heard the door -of his cell open behind him. He did not turn his head. This Citizen -Belgarde was a disdainful fellow, and never saw his jailers until they -stood before him. In spite of this, and perhaps because of it, he was -a favorite with turnkey Duval, who often frankly expressed his regret -that the day was not far off when Citizen Belgarde would be started in -a tumbril on his way to the Place de la Révolution. - -Trimousette, standing just within the door, which was closed behind -her, had a good look at her duke--as good, that is, as her fast-beating -heart would permit to her yearning tear-filled eyes. Upon his profile, -clearly silhouetted against the window’s dim light, she saw the pallor -of a prisoner. He still wore his shabby brocade coat and an embroidered -waistcoat, but both were threadbare and dingy. His hair, long and -curling, was tied with a black ribbon to distinguish him from the -cropped heads which the revolutionists affected. But his eyes, the eyes -of a fighter, were undaunted, and his mouth still knew how to smile. -The Duke of Belgarde considered that he had lost the game of life, -and the only thing left was to pay like a gentleman. As Trimousette -watched, he threw down his pen, pushed his chair back, cocked his feet -upon the table, and began to whistle quite jovially “Vive Henri Quatre.” - -Still he had not looked toward her, and Trimousette’s courage, having -brought her alone in night and storm from Brittany, and strongly -sustained her when she went to see Robespierre of the green eyes and -croaking voice, and got herself condemned to prison upon a capital -charge--could not carry her the yard or two between her and her soul’s -desire. - -But then the duke turned, recognized her, rose, and, obeying a sudden -impulse, opened his arms to her. True, he would have rejoiced to see a -dog, even broken-legged Diane, anything which was connected with the -splendid dream of the past. Yet was the duke actually glad to see the -only woman who could love him without worrying him. - -Trimousette did not fly into his arms. Poor soul, even at that moment -rose the undying instinct of womanhood not to yield too quickly. The -duke came forward and, by the same impulse, swept her into his arms. -At once, in the twinkling of an eye, love was born within him, and -he kissed her as a lover for the first time in their married life. A -glory, as of the morning, rose before Trimousette’s eyes. She had lost -all, even her life was a forfeit, but she had gained all--her husband’s -love. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE BEGINNING OF THE HONEYMOON - - -Presently the first agitation was past, and Trimousette told, as if it -were the simplest thing in the world, the story of her journey alone by -_diligence_ from the Breton coast to Paris, and how she forced her way -into Robespierre’s presence and had wrung from him the boon of being -with her husband. - -“But let us not deceive ourselves,” said the duke gently, still holding -her to his breast. “I shall not escape from the Temple this time. No -man has ever got away from this prison twice. I am destined to follow -his Majesty the King and her Majesty the Queen to the guillotine.” - -He expected that Trimousette would faint or shriek when he said this, -but she looked at him with calm eyes and answered in a soft, unbroken -voice: - -“So it may be, but Robespierre has promised me that when you leave the -prison I shall go with you.” - -The duke held her a little way from him and studied her reflectively. -Yes, it was better so. In a flash had been revealed to him the height -and depth of her adoration. What would be her fate if left alone among -those howling wolves who now ravened France? He would have taken with -him any creature that he loved, as he would have saved a bullet for -that creature if he had been surrounded and overwhelmed by savages, -whose blood thirst must be appeased. - -“Well, then,” continued Trimousette, still smiling and composed, “let -us here await God’s will.” - -“And that of the National Assembly,” grimly replied the duke, who -had not become either pious or forgiving under the shadow of the -guillotine, but, like most men, was the same in all circumstances. -Some, however, mistake fear for repentance--not so Fernand, Duke of -Belgarde. - -There was but one chair, one bed, one table in the room, and when the -turnkey brought the duke’s supper, there was only one cup, one plate, -and no spoon or knife at all. To the turnkey’s surprise, Citizen -and Citizeness Belgarde made merry at this. Trimousette was to have -a little cell opening into the duke’s, but when the rusty door was -forced wide, there was nothing but the bare walls and floor. The duke, -assuming an air of authority as if he were giving orders to a lackey -at the Château de Belgarde, directed the turnkey to bring what was -necessary for the comfort of the Duchess of Belgarde, and the turnkey, -appreciating the joke, grinned and winked at the duke. Then the -duchess, in her sweet, complaisant manner, said to him: - -“Pray, take no offense at the Duke of Belgarde. He is not yet used to -being in prison. But do me the favor, please, kind sir, to give me at -least a bed to sleep upon and a chair to sit in. Not so good as your -wife has at home, perhaps, but I shall be easily satisfied.” - -The turnkey Duval went, and returned after a few minutes to say that -not only might the duchess have a bed and a chair and a table, but he -would even get an old counterpane and hang it up as a curtain between -the cells. This was luxury undreamed of by Trimousette, and she -overwhelmed Duval with pretty thanks. The turnkey of his own accord -put up the bed and placed the chair and table which all prisoners were -allowed, and, having himself a taste for luxury, actually laid a piece -of carpet by the side of the bed and put a coarse cover on the table. - -This prison supper was the first time the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde -had ever supped together alone with each other. They felt a furtive and -secret joy at being together, for the duke had been steadily falling -in love with his wife ever since she appeared in his cell an hour -before. He noticed a new expression in her black eyes, an expression -of hope and even of joy. Trimousette, with a woman’s keenness, knew -she was on the road to her kingdom--her husband’s heart. It was so -odd that it was almost comical, the way the duke examined his wife. -She certainly had beautiful eyes, and a slim figure, and although -dressed in the simplest manner, as became a lady who traveled alone, -Trimousette had not forgotten her solitary piece of coquetry--her -delicious little shoes. Also, she had suddenly found her tongue, and -talked to her husband so freely and even gayly that he was astounded. -Was this the silent, shy, awkward girl he had married so many years -ago and who had seemed to be growing shyer, more silent, more awkward -every year? He was so surprised, so pleased, so touched, that he -scarcely knew what to make of it. The sky was still alight when their -supper was over, and Trimousette produced some needlework which she -had been allowed to bring into the prison. She was very artful, was -this artless Trimousette, and not meaning to thrust her company on her -husband, retired to her own little cell. There a charming surprise -awaited her. The turnkey, over whom Trimousette had thrown a spell of -enchantment, had placed upon her table a pot containing a geranium -with ten leaves and two brilliant scarlet blossoms. Trimousette, after -admiring her treasure, sat down upon her one chair and began to stitch -diligently by the fading light. She was ever a good needlewoman. Most -prisoners, as soon as they were incarcerated, begged for pen, ink, -and paper, to write to their friends, and to begin their struggle to -get out of prison. Not so Trimousette. She had no one to write to, and -particularly did not wish to get out of prison. - -As she sat sewing, she heard the duke moving restlessly about in the -next cell, beyond the ragged curtain. A mysterious smile came into -Trimousette’s eyes and upon her lips; her husband was uneasy without -her; he must come and seek her--oh, rapturous thought! Presently, the -duke knocked quite timidly at the side of the door. It might have been -Trimousette herself, the knock was so gentle; and when Trimousette -softly bade him enter, he said, quite shamefacedly: - -“I have never been lonely in this place before, for my thoughts, -although painful enough, always kept me busy. But I have grown very -lonely without you in the last five minutes. May I enter?” - -In that hour began Trimousette’s long-delayed honeymoon. - -Trimousette, being by nature orderly and the duke philosophic, they -regulated their lives as if they expected to die of old age in the -prison of the Temple. The duke had never before had much leisure -for reading, his time having been chiefly taken up with war and the -ladies, nor had he felt the need of any proficiency in writing until -he became the guest of the Revolution. His newly found accomplishment -with the pen revealed to him a gift which neither he nor anyone else -ever suspected in him. He could write verses, very pretty verses, all -addressed to Trimousette. These she set to music and sang in a sweet -little voice. Some of these songs were quite gay and coquettish, and -Trimousette sang them gayly and coquettishly. Thus was the kingdom of -poetry and song opened to them and they entered it hand in hand. When -they sat together at the rude table in the purple April nights, the -duke teaching Trimousette his verses and she singing them softly to -him, they gazed with rapture into each other’s eyes, and wondered how -they could ever have lived apart. - -They had no watch or clock and no means of telling the time except by -the prison bells, until the duke contrived, with a wooden peg driven -into the bare table, a rude sundial. They would not put upon it the -motto of the sundial in the old garden where Trimousette had first -dreamed of the duke; it was too sad. The duke suggested the old, old -one, “Only the happy hours I mark,” but Trimousette shook her head. - -“Are not all our hours happy when we are together?” she asked, and her -husband for answer caught her to his breast. - -“I know another motto,” she whispered; “it is on the sundial on the -broken terrace at Boury, ‘’Tis always morning somewhere in the world.’” - -The duke therefore etched, with a piece of a nail out of his shoe, this -motto upon the table, and Trimousette said it meant that when they -made their journey some evening to the Place de la Révolution, they -would close their eyes for a few minutes and open them upon the Eternal -Morning. She had many sweet superstitions, but behind them lay a noble -courage and faith itself. - -Trimousette was not always employed with poetry and music, however, -but devised for herself many graceful and feminine employments, the -duke watching her meanwhile with great delight. In the mornings she, -like a good housewife, would sew with diligence, and patched and mended -the duke beautifully. Her own wardrobe contained but two gowns, a -black one, which she wore every day, and a white one, which she saved -carefully for a certain great occasion likely to arrive any day; for -although she and her duke lived in their two cells with love and peace, -neither of them expected release except by the road which led to the -guillotine in the Place de la Révolution. Robespierre had promised it, -and in these matters he never broke his word. They faced the future -with a composure which amazed themselves. The duke had the courage of a -soldier who is always ready to answer the last roll call; Trimousette’s -simple and sublime faith would have made her walk to the stake as -calmly as to the guillotine. - -It must not be supposed, however, that a man with red blood in him like -Fernand, Duke of Belgarde, could see a new, sweet life of love opening -before him, and then could always bring himself to resignation. He -said little when these moods, like slaves in revolt, possessed him. At -such times he would rise from his bed in the night, grinding his teeth -and quivering with a dumb rage, and walk stealthily like a cunning -madman, up and down, up and down, his narrow cell. Trimousette waking, -would rise, and going to him in the darkness, gently recall him to -his manhood, his fortitude, his heart of a soldier, and then with the -earnestness of an angel and the simplicity of a child, she would tell -him of the strange certainty she felt that they would not be separated -even in the passage of the abyss called death. The duke, listening to -her, and feeling the soft clasp of her arm about his neck, would find -something like repose descend upon his tumultuous soul. At least, they -would go together--that much of comfort was theirs. But it was only at -times that this mood came upon the duke. Soldier-like, he had always -looked upon death as an incident, and the only really important thing -about it was how the thing could be done with the greatest ease and -dignity. - -“And surely,” Trimousette would say, drawing up her slight figure and -showing the pride that was always alive, but secret in her heart, “to -die for one’s loyalty is a very good way for the Duke and Duchess of -Belgarde to make their exit.” Let no one feel sorry for Trimousette. -She had passed through the Gate of Tears forever, and was already in -that Garden of All Delight, which men call Perfect Love. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IX - -TO-MORROW - - -Every day at noon the prisoners walked for an hour in the garden and -courtyard of the Temple. They were quite cheerful, and sometimes even -gay. Madame Guillotine was grown familiar to their thoughts. They paid -each other compliments upon their courage, and made little jokes on -very grim subjects. The honeymoon of the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde -amused, but also touched their fellow prisoners. Among these was a -pretty boy of sixteen, the Vicomte d’Aronda. His father had died, as -had Victor, Count of Floramour, gallantly fighting in La Vendée. His -mother and sister had perished in the embrace of Madame Guillotine. -The boy alone remained. He felt himself every inch a man, and showed -more than a man’s courage. He was immensely captivated by the Duke of -Belgarde’s dashing air, which he still retained in spite of his patched -coat and shabby hat, and when the duke introduced the little vicomte -to Trimousette, the boy fell, if possible, more in love with her than -with the duke. Every day during their hour of exercise in the garden he -watched for them, and his boyish face reddened with pleasure when they -would ask him to join them on their promenade up and down the broken -flags. It diverted the duke to pretend to be jealous of so gallant a -fellow as the little vicomte, and the boy himself, half bashful and -half saucy, was charmed with the notion of being treated as a gay dog. -Neither the duke nor Trimousette ever spoke to the boy of the fate -that lay before him, as well as themselves, for he was so young--but -sixteen years old--and the soul is not full fledged at sixteen. One -day, however, the lad himself broached the subject. - -“You see, madame and monsieur,” he said, quite serenely, “all the men -of my line have known how to die, whether in their beds of old age, or -falling from their horses in battle, and I, too, know how to die. I -shall be perfectly easy, and not let the villains who execute me see -that I care anything about it. My mother died as bravely as the Queen -herself; so did my sister, only twenty years old; and I shall not -disgrace them. But I should like very much to go the same day with you. -It would seem quite lonely to walk in this garden without you.” - -When he said this, a woman’s passion of pity for the boy overwhelmed -Trimousette. She felt nothing like pity for her own fate or that of -the man she loved; they had entered into Paradise before their time, -that was all. But the boy was too young to have had even a glimpse of -that Paradise. At least he would go in his white-souled youth, and this -thought comforted Trimousette. - -So passed the happiest month of Trimousette’s life. Her pale cheek grew -rosy and rounded like a child’s. Her black eyes lost their tragic and -melancholy expression and now shone with a soft splendor of deep peace -and even joy. Trimousette, Duchess of Belgarde, had come into her own -at last. She received from her husband the constant tribute of his -adoring and admiring love. When she glanced up from her sewing, it was -to find the duke’s eyes lifted from his book or his writing and fixed -upon her. If she moved across the narrow little cell, he watched her, -noting the grace of her movements. He told her twenty times a day that -she had the most beautiful, dainty feet in the world. When she sang -her little songs to him in a small pretty voice, the duke thought it -the most exquisite melody he had ever heard. They were as far removed -from the world as if they were upon another planet, and standing on the -lonely peak of existence between the two abysms from which man emerges -and into which he descends, it was as if they contained in themselves -the universe. - -It was now April; the days were long and bright, and the nights short -and brilliant with moonlight and star shine. One day--it was the -twenty-first of April--the air was so warm and Maylike that Trimousette -laid aside her heavy black gown and put on the only other one she -possessed--her white one, which she had saved for her bridal with -death. Her husband had not seen her in a white gown for a long, long -time, and paid her such loverlike compliments that Trimousette blushed -with delight. When the time came for them to go into the gardens for -their one hour of fresh air many of the prisoners remarked upon -Trimousette’s white gown, and the little Vicomte d’Aronda, coming up, -said gallantly: - -“Madame, I beg to present you with a bouquet I gathered for you this -morning,” and handed her five puny dandelions and some milkweed, tied -together with a bit of grass. - -Trimousette was charmed, and thanked the boy so prettily that he -blushed redder than ever, and the duke declared the vicomte was a -dangerous fellow with the ladies--at which the lad answered saucily: - -“Ah, monsieur, if I could live until I am grown up! Then I should -indeed be devoted to the ladies.” - -The duke turned away his head. The boy was but sixteen years old and he -would not live to be much older. - -That day was illuminated for Trimousette; it was so softly bright. As -the afternoon wore on, its languid beauty, its sad sweetness entered -into the soul of Trimousette. She did not busy herself as usual with -the little tasks she had devised for herself, but sat and moved in a -soft and composed reverie. Then, for a long time she watched the rude -sundial, studying the motto, and, almost involuntarily, she wrote upon -the table with her pen the old motto about the passing of the shadows -called man. She was serious, but not sad, and when the duke, taking her -hand, said to her: - -“My little Trimousette, does your heart ache because we, shadows that -we are, shall no more pass this way?” Trimousette replied: - -“I tell you truly, my heart has not once ached for myself since I have -been in this prison.” - -And with a lovely sidelong glance from her black eyes, now no longer -sad, she continued, smiling: - -“We have had our honeymoon, and no price can be too dear for that.” - -For the hundredth time the duke begged her pardon for those early -years of neglect, and Trimousette, answering his burning kisses, -whispered: - -“It does not matter now. All the great joys and griefs color the past -as well as the present. Since you were to love me, I could wait.” - -The perfect day had a sunset of unearthly beauty. Together at the -low-arched window in the great prison wall Trimousette and her best -beloved watched the rosy sunset glow give way to the keen flashing -stars shining in the deep blue heavens. They talked a little, softly, -but presently an eloquent silence fell between them. Trimousette’s -head was upon her husband’s shoulder, and after a time she slept. The -duke drew her mantle about her and held her close. And thus, in warmth -and peace and love, Trimousette slept an hour. It was close upon nine -o’clock and a great vivid moon flooded the little cell with its silvery -radiance when the duke heard the key turning quietly in the heavy -lock. Duval, the turnkey, entered, and obeying a sign from the duke, -walked noiselessly toward him. The turnkey’s coarse face was pale, and -his rough hands shook. He said in a whisper to the duke: - -“It is to-morrow--at seven in the evening--sunset time.” - -The duke nodded coolly. The hour being at hand he was all courage. - -The turnkey pointed to the sleeping Trimousette, then turned away -putting his sleeve to his face. Trimousette stirred, and withdrawing -herself from the duke’s arm, looked with calm, wide-open eyes from her -husband to the turnkey and back again. In the strong white moonlight -she saw clearly the faces of both men. - -“It is to-morrow, I think,” she said. - -“It is to-morrow,” replied the duke, without a tremor. - -“Monsieur Robespierre--” began the turnkey, and then in terror and -rage stopped, shaking his fist in the direction of the Rue St. Honoré, -where Robespierre lodged. - -“After all, it is well to leave a feast before the candles are burned -out,” said the duke, smiling, and Trimousette added: - -“It is not Monsieur Robespierre. It is the will of the good God who -calls us, and we pass over the short bridge, not the long one of age -and disease, but the shortest of all--and we pass together.” - -The turnkey kept on in a shaking voice: - -“Not a soul but you knows who is to be posted to-morrow, but I can tell -you of two--the sister of Louis Capet, Madame Elizabeth, and the little -boy who calls himself Vicomte d’Aronda, and saunters about the garden -so jauntily.” - -“It is a great honor to us that we go with the King’s sister, and as -for the little lad--well, he has no father, no mother, no brother, no -sister----” - -It was the duke who said this. Trimousette had never shown something -like weakness about the boy, and, falling back in her chair, struck her -hands together with a gesture of anguish. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER X - -THE STAR - - -The night in its pale glory passed, and the morning dawned as fair as -if the world were freshly made. The duke waited until seven o’clock for -Trimousette to wake; she had slept like an infant since midnight. Then -he went and roused her. She arose and dressed quickly, and began those -preparations which even the poorest prisoner makes before leaving the -world. There were some books to be disposed of and a few clothes, and -the pot with the geranium, now bearing three splendid scarlet flowers. - -“It is well you have no shoes to leave, except what you are wearing, -for there is no woman’s foot in France small enough for your shoes,” -said the duke, with an air of compliment, and Trimousette nodded almost -gayly. - -At nine o’clock Duval came to them. The duke was calmly writing at his -table, and Trimousette was smoothing out her white gown upon the bed. - -“Ah, Monsieur Duval,” she cried cheerfully, “we have decided to make -you our executor. The duke means to leave you his pen and these books. -You can sell the books for ten francs perhaps. My clothes are few -and very shabby, but you may have a daughter or perhaps a niece whom -they will fit, so pray take them. Also, I give you my geranium, but I -shall pluck the blossoms--one for the duke to wear to the Place de la -Révolution, one for myself, and one for the little Vicomte d’Aronda.” - -“Thank you, madame,” replied Duval gruffly. “I--I--have not yet told -the boy. I don’t know how he will take it.” - -“Have no fear. His name is d’Aronda,” said the duke, looking up from -his writing. - -At noon the great doors clanged open, and the prisoners, marching out, -saw the list of the condemned posted up in the vast, gloomy archway. -The list, which was long, was headed with the name of the King’s -sister, the gentle and pious Elizabeth. Next came the names of Citizen -and Citizeness Belgarde, and the twenty-fourth and last name was that -of Louis Frédéric d’Aronda. - -At this noontime, as on any other, Trimousette and the duke walked in -the garden. They wished to say good-by to their friends among their -fellow prisoners, a brave custom, rarely omitted. As the duke and -Trimousette passed out into the gloomy corridor, they saw, standing -before the posted list in the archway, the little vicomte, quite -smiling and composed. - -“It is a great honor,” he said, bowing low with boyish bravado, “to -go with the King’s sister, and also an honor to go with the Duke and -Duchess of Belgarde.” - -“Death is nothing,” cried the duke debonairly, laying his hand on the -lad’s shoulder. “I have faced him a hundred times in fight, and if -you look him straight in the eye and advance upon him, he grows quite -amiable to look at.” - -“So my father always said,” replied the boy, “and none of my family, -monsieur, knew fear. Even my sister, only twenty, was as cool as any -soldier, and surely a gentleman cannot let his sister surpass him in -valor. Oh, if I die bravely, my father will praise me, and my mother -will smile upon me, and so will my sister when we meet; and if I show -the white feather, I should be afraid to face them.” - -“You shall go in the cart with us,” said Trimousette, “and we will tell -Madame Elizabeth that you are a brave boy, a real d’Aronda.” - -That day, too, was bright and cloudless, and one of the most peaceful -Trimousette ever spent. - -At six o’clock there resounded through the great stone corridors of -the prison a loud, echoing voice, calling the condemned to appear, -and at the same moment the tumbrils rattled into the courtyard. Duval -unlocked the doors of the cells, and the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde -came forth, and at the same moment the little vicomte appeared. He had -made as much of a toilet as he could, and carried carefully in his hand -a new, though coarse, white handkerchief. - -Trimousette wore upon the breast of her white gown a vivid red geranium -blossom, and another blazed upon the lapel of the duke’s threadbare -brocade coat. The third blossom Trimousette pinned upon the little -vicomte’s breast, and he kissed her hand for it. - -Once in the courtyard, the guards objected to the boy going in the same -cart with Trimousette and her husband--the cart would be too heavy. - -“But he is so small--he takes up so little room,” urged Trimousette, -with soft pleading in her eyes. And then, the lad, without waiting for -permission, jumped into the cart and folded his arms defiantly, as much -as to say: - -“Turn me out if you dare.” - -They allowed him to remain. - -There were twelve tumbrils in all for the twenty-four condemned -persons. The very last to appear was a gentle, middle-aged lady, the -dead King’s sister, Madame Elizabeth. Each of the condemned persons -made her a low bow, the little vicomte scrambling out of the cart to -make his reverence. The eyes of Madame Elizabeth grew troubled as -she looked at the lad; the women and men could die, but the little -lads--ah, it was too hard! The Duke of Belgarde, as the man of highest -rank present, had the honor of assisting Madame Elizabeth into the -cart, for which she thanked him sweetly. Her hands were the first tied, -the guards knowing well she would make no resistance, and that the rest -would do as the King’s sister did. When it came to the duke’s turn, he -said: - -“Will you kindly permit me to assist madame, my wife, into the cart -first? Then I shall submit willingly.” - -The ruffian in attendance assented with a grin, and the duke gallantly -helped Trimousette into the tumbril, and then putting his hands behind -his back, they were tied, after which he jumped lightly in himself and -cried: - -“Drive on, coachman! Straight ahead, first turning to the right!” - -The procession of the twelve carts moved. In one sat a solitary person, -in another sat three, the Duke and Duchess de Belgarde and the young -Vicomte d’Aronda. The evening was as clear as crystal and the river, -like a string of pearls, slipped softly from the green valley of the -Seine, under the bridges, the statues looking down upon the silvery -stream, past the palaces, in whose windows the sunset blazed blood -red. The great city was still and breathless, as it always was when -these strange processions started for the great open space where Madame -Guillotine held her court. Toward the west, the sky turned from a flame -of crimson to an ocean of golden light, and then to a splendor of pale -purple and green and rose. Presently, a single palpitating star came -out softly in the heavens, now dark blue, and shone with a veiled but -steady brilliance, growing larger and brighter as the daylight waned. -Trimousette, jolting along upon the rude plank laid crosswise the -tumbril, leaned a little toward the duke, who, although pinioned, yet -supported her as the cart rattled along the stony street. The boy sat -at her feet, his look fixed upon her face. He saw neither fear nor -grief, but perfect peace. From Trimousette the lad turned his glance -upon the duke, who had a cool and victorious eye even in that hour. - -“I said a great many prayers last night,” said the boy, after a pause, -“and so that business is finished. I leave all with God, as a gentleman -should who treats God as if He were a gentleman and meant to keep His -word to us.” - -“He will keep His word to us,” answered Trimousette. The boy’s courage -charmed her, and she thought, if long life had been given to her she -would have wished for such a son as this Louis Frédéric d’Aronda. - -“When first I was in prison I rehearsed this scene to myself and -concluded there was nothing about it to keep a man awake at night,” -said the duke. “I think with you, my young vicomte, if there is a God, -He is a gentleman, and will treat us poor devils of mortals fairly. Is -not that true, Trimousette?” - -“Quite true,” replied Trimousette. - -So, with calm and peaceful talk, they made the journey, amid crowds of -staring and agitated people, who packed the streets and made black the -tops of the houses. A murmur of pity for the little vicomte, sitting -in the bottom of the cart, and talking so cheerfully, swept over the -multitude. The women in the throbbing crowds asked each other his name -and sometimes broke into sobbing as he passed. This agitated compassion -troubled the boy, and he said, with his lips trembling a little: - -“I wish they would not say ‘Poor lad! Poor little boy!’ I am afraid it -will make me weep, and that is what I should hate to do.” - -“If you are a man, you will not weep,” answered the duke, who knew what -chord to touch. “You should say to them: ‘Ladies, I would take off my -hat to you if my hands were not tied.’” - -The boy’s eyes sparkled; he loved to play the man and the gallant; so -he spoke to the crowd as the duke had told him, and was innocently vain -of his own coolness. - -At last, the carts, jolting steadily onward, reached the vast clear -space of the Place de la Révolution, crammed with people, and in the -open place in the middle a great Thing, black and gaunt, reared itself -high in the air. At the top a blade of blue steel blazed in the sunset -glow. - -The first to dismount from the carts was gentle Madame Elizabeth. She -seated herself placidly on one of the twenty-four chairs ranged around -in the circle. For the first time it was noted of this simple and -kindly creature, once known as a Child of France, something majestic -in her demeanor. She looked about her calmly, as much as to say: “It -matters little to me, Elizabeth, a Daughter of France, what you may do.” - -Another woman, who had also been meek all her life, showed a -stateliness of bearing which might well become a duchess. This was -Trimousette, Duchess of Belgarde. She was the next to alight, after -Madame Elizabeth, and took her place of rank, next the royal princess, -first making her a low curtsey, which the princess rose and returned. -Each lady present made two curtseys to this royal lady and each man two -bows, one on dismounting from the cart, and another before ascending -the rude stairs to the platform where the glittering ax worked in its -groove. The most graceful bow of all was made by the Duke of Belgarde; -the most debonair by the Vicomte d’Aronda. - -The condemned persons passed in the order of their rank; those of the -lowest rank going first. The little vicomte being last of all, except -the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde, passed before the royal lady, sitting -still and stately in her rough wooden chair. Twenty persons mounted the -stairs to the platform, and twenty times the ax flashed up and down -in its groove. From the surging multitudes around came occasionally -gaspings and sobbings, and even sometimes a wild shriek cut the -twilight air. But not one sob or shriek came from those who went to -their death, each passing bravely and silently. - -The twenty-first name to be called was that of Citizen d’Aronda, and -the little vicomte, standing up, cried: - -“I am here--Louis Frédéric, Vicomte d’Aronda!” - -He went first to Trimousette and kneeled to kiss her hand. - -“Au revoir, madame,” he cried; “we meet again shortly, but meanwhile I -shall have seen madame, my mother.” - -“Yes, we shall meet soon, and in the greatest happiness,” answered -Trimousette. Her voice trembled a little--she had been less brave -about the boy than about anything else. And the duke called out in a -pleasant voice, just as if the lad were a full-grown man: - -“Au revoir, my comrade!” - -The vicomte made his reverence to Madame Elizabeth, who rose and -returned it as if the lad were a Marshal of France. In another minute -he was springing up the wooden steps, and some women in the crowd began -weeping loudly, but were soon quieted by the rude words and blows -of the guards. Trimousette did not see what happened next. Her eyes -were fixed upon the west, in which the single star was growing more -beautifully brilliant every moment. - -Then it became the turn of Citizen Belgarde, once known as the Duke of -Belgarde. He knelt and kissed Trimousette’s hand and rose and kissed -her cheek, saying with a smile: - -“I believe with the little lad that God is a gentleman, and has not -brought us together only to tear us apart.” - -Trimousette answered with the sweet, bright smile which had only been -hers since her honeymoon began: - -“It is a good belief. Wait for me there,” and pointed toward the star, -now shining large and bright in the purple heavens. - -Nevertheless, she turned away her head, and two warm tears ran down -her cheeks. Most men die as they have lived, and so did Fernand, Duke -of Belgarde. After making his reverence to Madame Elizabeth, the duke -walked up the rude stairs coolly, his steady tread resounding loudly. -Then he shouted out: - -“Long live the King!” - -There was a sudden crash, some movement and commotion on the scaffold. -Then all was over in this world for the Duke of Belgarde, and but -little remained for the wife who had ever loved him better than her -life. - -Trimousette rose quickly, made her reverence to Madame Elizabeth, and -when her name was called she was already standing at the foot of the -wooden steps. - -Every man who looked at Trimousette wished to help her; even one of the -guards, seeing how small and slight she was, would have assisted her, -but she said to him with a kind of gentle haughtiness: - -“I thank you, monsieur, but I do not need your help.” - -The executioner tore the white fichu from her neck, leaving its -unsunned beauty exposed to the gaze of thousands of eyes. Trimousette’s -black eyes flashed, and a deep red blush flooded her face and -milk-white neck. She turned for one moment toward the star trembling in -the western sky, and then, with a glorified face, laid her dark head -upon the wooden block, and passed smiling into the Great Silence. - -[Illustration] - - - - -A ROMANCE OF THE CIVIL WAR. - - -The Victory. - -By MOLLY ELLIOTT SEAWELL, author of “The Chateau of Montplaisir,” “The -Sprightly Romance of Marsac,” etc. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50. - - “With so delicate a touch and appreciation of the detail of domestic - and plantation life, with so wise comprehension of the exalted - and sometimes stilted notions of Southern honor and with humorous - depiction of African fidelity and bombast to interest and amuse - him, it only gradually dawns on a reader that ‘The Victory’ is the - truest and most tragic presentation yet before us of the rending - of home ties, the awful passions, the wounded affections personal - and national, and the overwhelming questions of honor which weighed - down a people in the war of son against father and brother against - brother.”--_Hartford Courant._ - - “Among the many romances written recently about the Civil War, this - one by Miss Seawell takes a high place.... Altogether, ‘The Victory,’ - a title significant in several ways, makes a strong appeal to the - lover of a good tale.”--_The Outlook._ - - “Miss Seawell’s narrative is not only infused with a tender and - sympathetic spirit of romance and surcharged with human interests, - but discloses, in addition, careful and minute study of local - conditions and characteristic mannerisms. It is an intimate study of - life on a Virginia plantation during an emergent and critical period - of American history.”--_Philadelphia North American._ - - “It is one of the romances that make, by spirit as well as letter, - for youth and high feeling. It embodies, perhaps, the best work this - author yet has done.”--_Chicago Record-Herald._ - - “Aside from the engaging story itself and the excellent manner in - which it is told there is much of historic interest in this vivid - word-picture of the customs and manners of a period which has formed - the background of much fiction.”--_Brooklyn Citizen._ - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK - - - - -BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE FIGHTING CHANCE.” - - -The Younger Set. - -A Novel by ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. Illustrated by G. C. Wilmshurst. 12mo. -Cloth, $1.50. - -This is a famous novel of New York society; a brilliant picture of -American wealth in its romance, its sins, its splendors, its divorces -and its sports; a love story such as only Robert W. Chambers can -write. It is stronger, tenser, better than the same author’s greatest, -success, “The Fighting Chance.” Richly illustrated by G. C. Wilmshurst. - - “It is brightly told, replete with the wit and sparkle and charm that - invests everything Mr. Chambers writes. It is a delightful sojourn - among people one could wish to know.”--_Kansas City Star._ - - “It is written with a freshness and vigor that cannot be too much - appreciated and praised.”--_Salt Lake Tribune._ - - “It is the best story Mr. Chambers has ever written.”--_Cleveland - Leader._ - - “The most popular writer in the country has improved upon his own - very popular ‘Fighting Chance.’”--_New York World._ - - D. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Last Duchess of Belgarde</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Molly Elliott Seawell</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 22, 2021 [eBook #66592]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by University of California libraries)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST DUCHESS OF BELGARDE ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="40%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="blockquot"> -<div class="figright"><img src="images/i_halftitle.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<h1><i>The Last Duchess of Belgarde</i></h1> -</div></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="blockquot"> -<div class="figleft"><img src="images/i_002.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">TRIMOUSETTE.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - - - -<p><span class="xlarge"><i>The<br /> -Last Duchess<br /> -of Belgarde</i></span></p> - -<p><i>By<br /> -<span class="large">Molly Elliot Seawell</span></i></p> - - -<p>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -NEW YORK <span class="gap"> MCMVIII</span></p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="blockquot"> -<div class="figleft"><img src="images/i_copyrightpage.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1908, by</span><br /> - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> - -<p><i>Published June, 1908</i></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="center">TO<br /> - - -THE DEAR MEMORY OF<br /> - -<span class="large">HENRIETTA</span></p> - - -<div class="figright"><img src="images/i_dedication_page.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -</div></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div class="figleft"><img src="images/i_008.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_contents.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> - - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="3">PART ONE</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td> </td><td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">I.—</td><td><span class="smcap">Trimousette</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3"> 3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II.—</td><td><span class="smcap">The Duchess of Belgarde</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18"> 18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="3">PART TWO</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III.—</td><td><span class="smcap">A Present from the Duke</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29"> 29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV.—</td><td><span class="smcap">Madame De Valençay</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35"> 35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V.—</td><td><span class="smcap">The Earthquake</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53"> 53</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="3">PART THREE</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI.—</td><td><span class="smcap">Diane’s Opinion</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63"> 63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII.—</td><td><span class="smcap">Citizeness Belgarde</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72"> 72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.—</td><td><span class="smcap">The Beginning of the Honeymoon</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83"> 83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.—</td><td><span class="smcap">To-Morrow</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96"> 96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">X.—</td><td><span class="smcap">The Star</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107"> 107</a></td></tr> -</table> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="blockquot"> -<div class="figleft"><img src="images/i_010.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_illoslistpage.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHARACTERS</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Trimousette</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Countess of Floramour</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Count Victor of Floramour</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Fernand, Duke of Belgarde</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Madame de Valençay</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Robespierre</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Louis Frédéric, Vicomte d’Aronda</span></div> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Madame Elizabeth</span></div> -</div></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="blockquot"> -<div class="figleft"><img src="images/i_012.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>PART ONE</i></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_003.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br /> - - -<small>TRIMOUSETTE</small></h3> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_i.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IN the great, green old garden -of Madame, the Countess of -Floramour, sat her granddaughter, -little Mademoiselle -Trimousette, wondering when -she was to be married and to whom. Such an -enterprise was afoot, and even then being arranged, -but nobody, so far, had condescended -to give Trimousette any of the particulars. -She was stitching demurely at her tambour -frame, while in her lap lay an open volume -of Ronsard. Every now and then her rosy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -lips murmured the delicious verses of the poet. -A very pale, quiet little person was Mademoiselle -Trimousette, with a pair of tragic black -eyes, and something in her air so soft, so -pensive, so appealing, that it almost made up -for the beauty she lacked. Although the only -granddaughter of the rich, the highly born -and the redoubtable Countess of Floramour, -little Trimousette was the very soul of humility, -and in her linen gown and straw hat -might have passed for a shepherdess of -Arcady.</p> - -<p>A clump of gnarled and twisted rose trees -made a niche for her small white figure on -the garden bench. To one side was the yew -alley, where the clipped hedge met overhead, -making the alley dark even in the May noontime. -Before Trimousette stood, in a little -open space, a cracked sundial, on which could -still be made out in worn letters the legend:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse"><i>L’ombre passe, et repasse:</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>Sans repasser, l’homme passe.</i></div> -</div></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>This sounded very sad to little sixteen-year-old -Trimousette; shadows passed and re-passed; -but men, passing once, passed forever. -She sighed, and then her young heart turned -away to sweeter, brighter things as she again -took up her tambour frame. She knew the -motto on the sundial well, did little Trimousette, -but it always made her sad, from the -time she first spelled it out in her childish days. -However, her heart refused to give it more -than one little sigh to-day, as she turned again -to her embroidery and to her love dream. If -only she was to be married to the Duke of Belgarde—that -splendid, daredevil duke, whom -she had once seen face to face, and to whom -she had yielded her innocent heart and all her -glowing imagination! Her grandmother, the -old countess, who was frightfully pious, probably -would not let little Trimousette marry -the duke, not even if he asked her; the Duke -of Belgarde could not, by any stretch of the -imagination, be called a pious person. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -Trimousette believed firmly that all the wild -duke needed to make him a model of propriety -was a little tender remonstrance and perhaps -a kiss or two— Here Trimousette held her -embroidery frame up to her eyes to hide the -hot blushes that leaped into her pale cheeks.</p> - -<p>Presently came striding along the garden -path the fierce old Countess of Floramour, as -tall as a bean pole, and with a voice like an -auctioneer.</p> - -<p>“It is all arranged,” she said to little Trimousette, -“and you are to be married to the -Duke of Belgarde.”</p> - -<p>The blood dropped out of Trimousette’s -face, like water dashed from a vase. She had -risen when she saw the old countess approaching. -Everybody rose when the old countess -approached, for she was a martinet to the -backbone. The volume of Ronsard fell out -of Trimousette’s lap, and Madame de Floramour -pounced upon it.</p> - -<p>“Reading poetry, indeed!” she cried indignantly;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -“precious little use will you find for -poetry when you are a duchess. You will be -visiting morning, noon, and night, until you -can hardly stand upon your legs, and receiving -visits until your head swims, or going to balls -and routs when you should be in bed, and -trailing after their Majesties until you are -ready to drop, and racking your brain for -compliments to frowsy old women and doddering -old men, and doing everything you don’t -want to do—that’s being a duchess. Still, -it is a fine thing to be a duchess.”</p> - -<p>Dark-eyed Trimousette scarcely heard anything -of this; her ear had caught only the -words—“the Duke of Belgarde”—and she -was dazzled and stunned with the splendid -vision that rose before her like magic at the -speaking of the winged words. Nevertheless, -she managed to gasp out:</p> - -<p>“And when am I to be married, grandmamma?”</p> - -<p>“When you see my coach with six horses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -drive into the courtyard, miss—then you are -to be married, and not before.”</p> - -<p>With this the old countess stalked off, and -Trimousette fell into a rapturous dream, her -head resting upon her hand. So motionless -was she that a pair of bluebirds, still in their -honeymoon, cooed and chirped almost at her -feet. The world held but one object for Trimousette -at that moment—the Duke of Belgarde. -She knew his first name—Fernand—and -her lips involuntarily moved as if speaking -it. A heavenly glow seemed to envelop the -old garden, the sundial with its melancholy -motto, the dark yew walk, bathing them in a -golden glory. Before her dreamy eyes returned -the vision of the day she had seen the -Duke of Belgarde, and had laid her innocent, -trembling heart at his feet, just as a subject -bows before his king, without waiting to be -told. It was exactly a year ago, on a May -day, and it was close by the Tuileries gardens. -Madame de Floramour’s great coach<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -was drawn up, waiting to see King Louis the -Sixteenth and Queen Marie Antoinette pass -to some great ceremony at Notre Dame. The -duke in a gorgeous riding dress, and superbly -horsed, was among the courtiers, and on seeing -a certain beautiful lady, Madame de -Valençay, he dismounted, and stood uncovered -talking with her, the sun gleaming upon his -powdered hair, and making his sword hilt -shine as a single jewel. How well Trimousette -remembered Madame de Valençay’s glorious -blonde beauty! She seemed, in her pale violet -satin robe that matched the color of her eyes, -a part of the splendid pageant of earth and sky -that day. At the first sight of her a sudden, -sharp, jealous pain rent Trimousette’s little -heart. Instantly she realized that she was small -and pale, and her gown was dull in color. The -duke scarcely saw her, as he left Madame de -Valençay’s side long enough to speak to the -old countess. Trimousette, making herself as -small as possible in the corner of the coach,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -was, as usual, completely swamped by Madame -de Floramour’s enormous hoop, tremendous -hat and feathers, and voluminous fan. -The old lady, who had a fierce virtue which -she would not have hesitated to cram down -the throat of the King himself, was lecturing -the duke upon the sin of gaming, to which he -was addicted, along with several other mortal -sins. He listened with laughing, impenitent -eyes, and grinning delightfully, swore he -would make public confession of his sins and -lead a life thereafter as innocent as that of -the daisies of the field. Behind him, while -he was talking, shone the lovely, fair face -of Madame de Valençay, all dimpling with -smiles.</p> - -<p>Not the least notice did the duke take of -little Trimousette until, the old countess preparing -to alight and walk about while waiting -for their Majesties, Trimousette stepped -timidly out of the coach after her. One vagrant -glance of the duke’s fell upon Trimousette’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -little, little feet, encased in beautiful -red-heeled shoes, and, as he turned away with -a low bow and a sweep of his hat, Trimousette’s -quick ear heard him say to a companion -standing by: “What charming little -feet!”</p> - -<p>From that day Trimousette’s innocent head -had been full of this adorable, impudent -scapegrace of a duke. She did not, like older -and wiser women, try to put him out of her -mind, but cherished her idyl, as young things -will; only, he seemed too far above her and -beyond her. And the beautiful Madame de -Valençay was certainly better suited to so -splendid a being as the Duke of Belgarde -than a small creature like herself, so Trimousette -thought. But she had not read the story -of Cinderella for nothing—and small feet had -carried the day in that case over beauty in -all its pride.</p> - -<p>The duke divided the empire of Trimousette’s -soul with her brother, Count Victor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -of Floramour, who was an edition in small of -the Duke of Belgarde, whom he ardently admired -and earnestly copied, especially in his -debts. Count Victor had succeeded in piling -up quite a respectable number of obligations, -but unlike the Duke of Belgarde, who feared -nobody, Victor was in mortal terror of his -grandmother, the old countess. She held the -reins tight over her grandson as over everybody -else, and gave him about enough of an -allowance to keep him in silk stockings. -Being an officer of the Queen’s Musketeers, -Victor had a great many opportunities to -spend money, which he alleged was a solemn -duty he owed her Majesty, the Queen. -This was devoutly believed by Trimousette, -but the old countess scoffed at it. Trimousette -had determined, if she made a rich marriage, -she would ask her husband to pay -Victor’s debts, even if they were so much as -a thousand louis d’ors—and now—ah, sweet -delight!—she was to be married to the finest,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -the most beautiful duke in the world, who -no doubt was as rich as he was grand. The -thought of Madame de Valençay disturbed -Trimousette a little, but she believed if she -was very sweet and loving with the duke, and -sang him pretty little songs, and always wore -enchanting red-heeled shoes, he would soon -forget Madame de Valençay.</p> - -<p>The duke had more than one splendid château, -but Trimousette had heard of the small -old castle of Boury, on the coast of Brittany, -where the duke was born. Thither Trimousette -decided they would go directly they -were married; for, of course, the duke—or -Fernand, as Trimousette already called him -in her thoughts—would ask her where she -wished to go. In her day dream she saw the -place—an old stone fortalice, perched on the -brown Breton rocks, with a garden of hardy -shrubs and flowers, straying almost to the -cliff, and seagulls clanging overhead in the -sharp blue air. There would Trimousette and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -her duke live like their Majesties at the Little -Trianon, where the Count d’Artois milked -the cow, and Queen Marie Antoinette herself -skimmed the cream from the milk pails. The -Queen, too, always wore a linen gown and a -straw hat when she was at the Little Trianon, -and Trimousette would dress in the same way -at Boury.</p> - -<p>While all these idle, sweet fancies floated -through her mind, like white butterflies dancing -in the sun, she glanced up and saw Victor -coming toward her. Victor did not -march across the flower beds like the old -countess, but slinked along through the yew -alley, in the dull green light that brooded -upon it even at noontide. He was like Trimousette, -only ten times handsomer, and gave -indications of having seen a good deal of life. -To-day, it was plain he had been up all night. -He was unshaven, his hat had lost its jaunty -cock, his waistcoat was wine-stained, and the -lace on his sleeves had been badly damaged in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -a romp with some very gay ladies about four -o’clock that morning.</p> - -<p>Victor beckoned to Trimousette, and she -rose and went into the cool, dark alley with -him where they were quite secure from observation. -Then, taking Trimousette’s hand, he -kissed it gallantly.</p> - -<p>“So you want to be a duchess, my little -sister,” he said, laughing, yet kindly. “I -hope you will be happy, but don’t get any -nonsense in your romantic head about you -and Belgarde living like a pair of blue pigeons -in an almond tree. Belgarde is a gay dog -if ever I saw one. We were together last -night—and look!” Victor showed his tattered -ruffles and battered hat, and touched his -unshaven chin. “We went to a little supper -together, which began at midnight, and is -just over now within the hour.”</p> - -<p>Trimousette firmly believed that she would -be able to cure her duke of his taste for such -suppers, but she was too timid to put her belief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -in words. She said, however, after a -blushing pause:</p> - -<p>“One thing I mean to ask the duke as soon -as we are married, and that is for some -money to pay your debts, dear Victor.”</p> - -<p>At that Victor sat down on the ground and -laughed until he cried.</p> - -<p>“You are as innocent as the birds upon the -bushes, my little duchess,” he said. “Belgarde -pay my debts! He cannot pay his own.”</p> - -<p>“But yours cannot be so very large,” urged -Trimousette earnestly. “If it were even as -much as a thousand louis d’ors, I should ask -the duke to give it to me, and if he loved -me—”</p> - -<p>She paused with downcast eyes, and Victor -stopped laughing and looked at her with pity. -What an innocent, affectionate, guileless child -she was, and what a lesson lay before her!</p> - -<p>“My debts amount to a good deal more -than a thousand louis d’ors,” he responded, -smiling in spite of himself at Trimousette’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -simplicity. “You will have a good many -thousands of louis d’ors at your command, -my little duchess, but you will need them -all yourself; for Belgarde will have his wife -finely dressed, and your hotel and equipages -must be suitable to your rank.”</p> - -<p>“I shall always be able to spare a little -for you, Victor,” answered Trimousette, looking -at him with adoring eyes.</p> - -<p>“Belgarde will not mind the money; he is -a free-handed, generous fellow, as brave as -my sword. But you must not try to domesticate -him, you must become gay like himself. -Belgarde told me on our way home just now -that everything had been arranged, and that -he meant to treat you well. I answered, if -he did not, I would run him through the -body; and so I will.”</p> - -<p>At which Trimousette was frightened half -to death, and replied:</p> - -<p>“Then if he treats me ill, I will never let -you know anything about it.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_018.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II<br /> - - -<small>THE DUCHESS OF BELGARDE</small></h3> -</div></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_n.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">NEVER was a bride less burdened -with the details of her marriage -than was Mademoiselle -Trimousette. Her grandmother -arranged the settlements, provided -the trousseau, and did not even let -Trimousette see the marriage presents, which -the duke sent in a couple of large hampers, -until the day before the wedding.</p> - -<p>The duke did not take the trouble to see -his little bride in advance of the formal betrothal, -which took place the week after Trimousette<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -had sat and stitched by the old -sundial in the garden. The betrothal ceremony -took place in the grandest of all of the -grand saloons in the hotel of Madame de -Floramour. Everything was done in splendor, -and the bride herself, for the first time -in her life, was expensively dressed and wore -jewels. When she entered the grand saloon -on Victor’s arm, her eyes were downcast, and -she felt as if she were under some enchanting -spell. She saw nothing but her adorable duke, -with his laughing eyes, and dashing figure, -and slim, sinewy hands over which fell lace -ruffles.</p> - -<p>The duke glanced at his bride with good-humored -indifference. She was too young, -too unformed to reveal what she might yet -become, but she looked so gentle, so unresisting, -that she appeared to be a very suitable -duchess for a duke who took his pleasure -wherever he found it. The only thing he -noticed especially about her were her dainty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -feet, in little white satin shoes, and her black -eyes, hidden under her downcast lids. He -recognized the melancholy glory of her eyes, -but thought them too tragic for everyday -use. Personally, he much preferred Madame -de Valençay’s blue orbs, languid, yet sparkling. -That charming lady was present, and -appeared in nowise chagrined. Shortly before -the betrothal, she had suggested to the duke -that she should put the Count de Valençay -out of the way, in order to make a vacancy in -his shoes for the duke; de Valençay was always -ailing, and could easily be made a little -more so. The duke declined the proposition, -as every other man has done to whom it -has been made since the dawn of time. But -he had assured Madame de Valençay that -neither a husband nor a wife counted in an -all-consuming passion such as theirs, and she -believed him. The future duchess pleased -Madame de Valençay quite as much as Trimousette -pleased the duke. Surely, that small,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -timid, almost voiceless creature ought not and -should not stand in the way of two determined -lovers like the Duke of Belgarde and -Madame de Valençay.</p> - -<p>Few persons present took any more notice -of the young bride than did the prospective -bridegroom. The betrothal ceremony was -soon over and then a great dinner was served, -at which the future Duchess of Belgarde sat -next the duke at table. Amid the crowd of -merry faces, the cheerful noise and commotion -of a betrothal dinner, the lights and the -flowers, Trimousette saw only the duke’s -handsome, laughing, careless face, and heard -only his ringing voice. She was so quiet and -still during it all that it touched the duke a -little, although he had frankly determined in -advance he would not trouble himself very -much about his future duchess. He was impelled, -however, by a certain careless kindness, -which was a part of his nature, to pay -her a few small compliments. The blood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -rushed to Trimousette’s face and she raised -her black eyes to his with an expression -of adoration at once desperate and shy, so -that the duke privately resolved not to encourage -her to fall in love with him any more -than she was already. Nothing was more -inconvenient, thought the duke, than a wife -who is in love with her husband, except -perhaps a husband who is in love with his -wife.</p> - -<p>The next night the wedding was celebrated. -First there was a great supper and ball preceding -the ceremony, which took place at -midnight, according to the fashion of the age, -at Notre Dame. It was a very grand wedding -indeed. The King and Queen were represented, -and half the old nobility of France -was present. In fact, there was so much of -rank and grandeur that the bride was as -nearly insignificant as a bride could well be. -Her costume was very gorgeous; she blazed -with jewels, which came from she knew not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -where, and she was attended by six young -ladies of the highest rank, whom she had -never before seen. When Trimousette entered -the first of the magnificent saloons, her -eyes timidly traveled over the splendors before -her. Some of the great rooms were -devoted to cards, others to dancing, where -an orchestra of twenty-four violins played, -after the manner of the orchestra of Louis -the Fourteenth, at whose court Madame de -Floramour had been a shining light. In another -huge hall a superb supper was served -by a hundred liveried lackeys, wearing wedding -favors.</p> - -<p>But the only familiar faces the little bride -saw were her brother Victor’s and her grandmother’s -iron countenance, grimly resplendent -under a towering headdress of diamonds and -red feathers. Yes, there was another face -she knew well, though she had seen it but -twice—the lovely rosy-lipped Madame de -Valençay. Trimousette, for all her outward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -timidity, had a shy and silent courage, which -appeared when least expected. She did not -really fear Madame de Valençay, with all her -wit and beauty, for love is the universal conqueror. -So thought simple Trimousette. The -duke was quite civil to his bride, and she -mistook his civility for the beginnings of -love, and thought him more adorable than -ever.</p> - -<p>Half an hour before midnight a great -string of coaches, with running footmen carrying -torches, started for the Cathedral of -Notre Dame, where the Archbishop of Paris, -with the assistance of a whole batch of cardinals, -was to perform the marriage ceremony. -The night, radiant and rose-scented, was the -loveliest of June nights. The crowds along -the streets hustled and pushed and scrambled -good-naturedly to get a sight of the young -bride. All agreed that she was not half handsome -enough for the beautiful, superb Duke -of Belgarde, and such, indeed, was the bride’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -own opinion. The duke was in the gayest -spirits. The more he saw of his bride, the -better she seemed suited to him. She was -certainly the meekest, most inoffensive creature -on earth, and if only she would not insist -on making love to him, it would be an -ideal marriage—for the Duke of Belgarde. -He congratulated himself that he had not -yielded to the seductions of Madame de Valençay -when that spirited and fascinating lady -had offered to put her husband out of the -way to please the duke.</p> - -<p>The wedding train, as it swept up the great -aisle of Notre Dame, blazed with splendor. -In it was the Count d’Artois, who not only -milked the cow charmingly at the Little Trianon, -but danced adorably on the tight rope. -The main altar of the old Cathedral, with -its thousands of candles, sparkled like a single -jewel. The huge organ thundered under -the echoing arches, and the great bells in the -towers clashed out joyfully their wedding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -music to the quiet stars in the heavens. The -melody, the beauty, the glory of it all found -an echo in the tender, simple heart of the new -Duchess of Belgarde.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_025.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" ><i>PART TWO</i></h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_029.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br /> - - -<small>A PRESENT FROM THE DUKE</small></h3> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_i.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">INSTEAD of a honeymoon at -Boury, the old Breton castle -on the cliffs over the sounding -seas, where the salt spray -upon the crumbling -towers, the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde -had a racketing time at the Château de Belgarde. -This was a great palace of a place in -the neighborhood of Versailles. There was -incessant dancing, dining, and merry-making -for three whole weeks, and the meek, silent -little bride grew so tired she could scarcely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -stand upon her pretty feet. Madame de Valençay -was much in evidence, and was easily -the loveliest of all the lovely women at the -Château de Belgarde. A vague uneasiness -came into the heart of the little duchess whenever -she looked upon this beautiful blue-eyed -creature always radiantly dressed. Trimousette, -however, still believed that she could -soon make her duke fall as deeply in love -with herself as she was irretrievably in love -with him. He was certainly kind to her, so -thought Trimousette with deep delight in her -innocent heart. She did not observe that -the duke’s kindness to her was exactly like -his kindness to his faithful hound, Diane, who -had broken both her forelegs in his service, -and though unable to hunt, limped about -after him with the desperate devotion of that -most sentimental of all creatures except a -woman—a dog. The duke did, indeed, show -a sort of protective instinct toward his silent, -shy, black-eyed young wife, and she noticed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -that Madame de Valençay was more civil to -her when the duke was by than when he -was not. But it must be admitted that the -Duchess of Belgarde was shamefully bullied -in her own house from the day of her marriage -by Madame de Valençay. Trimousette -bore it with the quiet, wordless courage which -enabled her to bear many things in silence, -and she continued to mistake her husband’s -casual good will for the beginnings of love -in its infancy. One day, less than a month -after her marriage, came the awakening. The -duchess saw a jeweler from Paris at the door -of the duke’s room. The duke was holding -in his hand a blue, heart-shaped locket with -diamonds in it.</p> - -<p>“I will take this,” he said, “for one hundred -louis.”</p> - -<p>He did not see his duchess who was passing -a little to the back of him. A palpitating -joy shot through Trimousette’s heart. What -were all the jewels and laces and furs and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -silks in her marriage presents from the duke -compared to that charming little jeweled -heart, which he was choosing for her! The -duke thrust the trinket in his breast, dismissed -the man, and then turning, for the first time -saw his duchess walking along the broad, -bright corridor, flooded with the glow of the -summer morning. As he was going the same -way, he walked after Trimousette, and like -a gentleman he uttered some little phrase of -compliment. In all honesty, he preferred -her as his wife a million times more than -Madame de Valençay, whom he could have -married, if only he had agreed to have the -present incumbent put out of the way. A -submissive person was what the duke particularly -desired for a wife, and he had got -one.</p> - -<p>The little duchess’s heart beat so with joy -when her husband joined her that she was -almost suffocated, and could only say “Yes” -and “No” when the duke talked to her. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -was obliged to admit, however, after a few -minutes of this, as they passed through the -long, sunlit corridor out upon the gay terrace, -that his bride had not much conversational -power. And standing on the terrace, -surrounded by gentlemen, was Madame de -Valençay, entertaining them all with the most -amusing badinage, and every word sparkled. -She seemed to embody the very spirit of the -rosy morn with her shining eyes, her ringing -voice, her gown of a jocund yellow.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, for Trimousette this trifling -attention of the duke toward her filled her -soul with rapture. There was a great ball -that night at the château, and she dressed herself -for it with gayety -of heart in a very unbecoming -gown selected for her by her fierce -old grandmother. Her innocent, hidden hope -and pleasure lasted until she entered the ballroom -to receive her guests. There, amid the -jewels sparkling upon Madame de Valençay’s -breast, lay the little blue enameled heart.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>Something as near resentment as Trimousette -could feel stirred within her, and her -dark eyes grew sombre. She had a sudden -illumination. Never more would she mistake -the duke’s careless kindness for the beginnings -of love. But with the illumination of -her mind rose up that latent, still, wordless -courage which enabled her to bear almost -unbearable things without one sign of pain. -She was but a girl of seventeen, this injured -wife, this insulted duchess; she knew -nothing of retaliation, she only knew how to -suffer silently and with dignity. No one, not -even her brother Victor, should know of the -cruel affront put upon her in the first month -of her marriage. She forced herself to talk -and even to smile, and Victor, who was afraid -that Trimousette would never look or speak -or walk or act as a great duchess should, -began to have some hopes of her.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_035.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - - - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV<br /> - - -<small>MADAME DE VALENÇAY</small></h3> -</div> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_t.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE gayety and racketing went -on during the whole year at -one place or another—the Château -de Belgarde, other châteaus, -Paris and Versailles. -Trimousette saw Madame de Valençay oftener -than any other woman of her acquaintance. -Madame de Valençay was fairly polite, -but in her eyes and smile lurked a kind -of insolence which the reticent young duchess -understood quite well, but of which she -made not the slightest sign. She had no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -more liberty and not much more money as -Duchess of Belgarde than when she lived -in her grandmother’s house as a little demoiselle. -There was much to buy and to give, -and besides, ever since King Louis the Sixteenth -called the States General together, the -peasants had refused to pay their rents and -even their taxes, and the work people demanded -their money with threats and curses. -So far from having a thousand louis d’ors -with which to pay Victor’s debts, the poor -little duchess had only managed, by skimping -and saving in her own personal expenses, to -scrape together three hundred louis—and it -was so little she was ashamed to offer it to -Victor.</p> - -<p>A year after her marriage Trimousette disappointed -and offended the duke very much -by bringing into the world a daughter. A son -would have been welcomed; but a girl—well, -the poor little thing, as if knowing she was -not wanted by anyone except her young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -mother, soon wailed her life away. Trimousette -grieved as one whose heart was broken, -and wore nothing but black. This still more -annoyed the duke, but on this point alone -Trimousette showed a slight obstinacy. The -duke wished her to go about, to visit Versailles, -to be seen at the theatre. The young -duchess humbly obeyed these instructions, but -not in the spirit the duke desired. Trimousette’s -heart, poor lonely captive, beat against -its prison bars, and made its melancholy cry -a little heard; then grew silent.</p> - -<p>She led a life singularly lonely for a great -lady who received twice in the week, and who -went to a ball nearly every night. Her grandmother -thought she had done enough in marrying -Trimousette off to one of the greatest -dukes in France, and gave herself up to -sermons, taking no more thought of her -granddaughter. Victor had his own amusements, -as became an officer of the Queen’s -Musketeers and a gay dog. Only the poor,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -broken-legged hound Diane seemed to seek -Trimousette’s company, and together the two -creatures who loved the duke listened for his -footsteps, and hung timidly upon his words.</p> - -<p>But there was so great a noise of other -things in Paris that private woes were not -much heeded. It was impossible for a lady -to walk without molestation upon the streets -full of turbulent people, and it was actually -dangerous to drive about in a ducal coach. -The pavements were thronged by hungry creatures, -both men and women, with menacing -eyes, and threatening, yelling voices, who had -been known to scream and flout ladies in their -carriages, and to drag gentlemen from their -horses and maltreat them. Once Madame -de Valençay, seeing Trimousette preparing -to go forth somewhat unwillingly in her -coach, hinted that perhaps the duchess was -afraid.</p> - -<p>“Not in the least, madame,” answered Trimousette -quietly. “Perhaps you will join me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -in my coach and drive with me to the Palais -Royal.”</p> - -<p>Madame de Valençay was so stunned by -this proposal that she accepted it, the duke -standing by and wondering if his taciturn -young duchess had not lost her wits.</p> - -<p>The two ladies were assisted into the coach, -which set off toward the Palais Royal. It -was about seven in the evening when the -work of the day was over and the streets were -fullest of these ragged, starving beings who -had found voice at last, and shouted out the -story of their rags, their hunger, their misery, -and their determination to punish somebody -for it. The splendid coach and six of the -Duchess of Belgarde was like showing a red -rag to a bull. The mob surrounded it, hooting -and screaming, and wrenched the whips -from the hands of the coachmen and postilions, -and the canes from the three footmen -hanging on behind. Madame de Valençay, -who had started out laughing and defiant,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -grew pale and then frightened, and when a -wretched woman, with the glare of famine in -her eyes, dragged the coach door open and -tore the ribbons from Madame de Valençay’s -hat, that lady fell to whimpering and almost -fainting with terror. Not so little Trimousette. -It had been complained of her often -that she was too silent and impassive, and she -remained so now, giving no sign whatever of -fear or uneasiness. She even smiled with a -faint contempt at Madame de Valençay’s terrors, -and refused to give orders for the coachman -to return to the Hôtel de Belgarde until -they had made the circuit of the Palais Royal. -When they returned, the duke was awaiting -them in the courtyard of the hotel. He was -wondering what would be the next miracle. -Madame de Valençay had been so terribly -scared that she could not disguise it, and -clamored to have not only the duke, but all -the men servants in the hotel to escort her -home. She looked a wreck, did this beautiful,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -gayly gowned lady, with her hat in fragments, -her fan broken, her clothes almost torn -off her by the furious, yelling, laughing crowd -of women in the streets. Not so Trimousette, -in her sedate black gown, better suited to -eighty than eighteen.</p> - -<p>“I was not at all frightened,” she said to -the duke, and if she had not been so shy, she -would have told him all about it. The coachmen -and footmen did this, however, and slyly, -after the manner of their kind, brought the -duchess’s calm courage into contrast with -Madame de Valençay’s undignified screams -and pleadings.</p> - -<p>The duke, who was insensible to fear himself, -expected courage in women, and was -secretly disgusted with Madame de Valençay. -Besides, like most ladies of her sort, she was -beginning to hound the duke with what she -called her love. It had grown more insistent -since his marriage to the quiet little Trimousette, -who appeared not to know there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -such a thing as faithlessness in the world. The -duke chafed a little under Madame de Valençay’s -shameless pursuit of him. Not being a -courageous woman she did not venture into -the streets when the people became turbulent; -but they were not always turbulent, the poor, -starving people. Although herself often afraid -to go out, Madame de Valençay did not mind -sending out her running footmen, and the -Duke of Belgarde could scarcely leave his -own door without a lackey in Madame de -Valençay’s livery poking a scented pink note -at him. The duke ground his teeth, and dimly -recognized that his friend, as he called her, -harassed and worried him, and indeed hen-pecked -him more in two weeks than his pale, -quiet little duchess had done in the whole two -years of their married life. Nevertheless, -Madame de Valençay’s glorious and vivid -beauty enchanted him, and made him sometimes -forget Trimousette’s very existence. -He even forgot to compliment her little feet,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -which Trimousette still, with a faint, foolish -hope in her heart, dressed in charming little -shoes, the only patch of coquetry or vanity -about her.</p> - -<p>The people, meanwhile, were growing more -and more unruly, and at last one day a mob -of dressmakers, washerwomen, cooks, and the -like, headed by a tall, red-faced laundress, almost -as fierce as the old Countess of Floramour, -began a round of domiciliary visits to -persons who owed them money. They went -to many hotels, including that of Madame de -Valençay, who ordered all the doors to be -double locked, and ran up to her bedroom, -where she remained cowering and terrified, -but unable to escape the menaces and shouts -of the crowd of haggard, savage women in -the courtyard, demanding their money to keep -their children from starving. They got nothing, -however.</p> - -<p>Next, they visited the old Countess of -Floramour, who came down boldly enough to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -them, but gave them a sermon instead of -money. She exhorted them to live by Bible -texts, and was indignant when the big red-faced -laundress replied that they could neither -eat nor wear the Bible. Thence the riotous -women invaded the courtyard of the splendid -Hôtel de Belgarde. They had grown more -noisy and the <i>dames de compagnie</i> of the -duchess begged her not to go down to them. -But Trimousette was of all things least a -coward, and taking from her escritoire the -little bag of gold she had saved up to pay -Victor’s debts, descended the grand staircase -into the sunny courtyard, where the mob -clamored and abused the powdered and silk-stockinged -footmen. Something in the aspect -of this pale, soft-eyed little duchess in her -black gown, her hair tied with a black ribbon, -moved the wild hearts of these savage women, -and her voice, trembling and embarrassed, -made them keep quiet in order to hear her.</p> - -<p>“It is all I have,” she said, blushing and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -stammering as she handed the bag to the big -red laundress; “it is only a little more than -three hundred louis, and is not enough to pay -you. If I had any more, I would be glad to -give it to you.”</p> - -<p>The crowd of women looked at her in surprise; -she was the first great lady they had -visited so far who had given them a franc. -The fierce laundress became almost civil when -she took the bag from Trimousette’s hands.</p> - -<p>“We ask for our money, for we are starving. -My little child died last week because -I have not for a year past had money enough -to give her good food. What do you think -of that, madame?” she cried, her red face suddenly -growing pale and fiercer.</p> - -<p>“My little child died last year,” answered -Trimousette, looking at the woman before her -with the kinship of motherhood; and then covering -her face with her hands, she burst into -weeping.</p> - -<p>The mob was hungry and savage and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -ragged and hated duchesses in general, but -at the sight of the tears of this black-robed, -pale young girl they remained silent. The -washerwoman wiped her eyes with her apron, -laid her hand on the arm of the weeping -duchess, and said roughly:</p> - -<p>“It is like this with all of us, we women, -duchesses and washerwomen alike. Every -one of us has a little pair of wooden shoes, or -a cap, or something that belonged to a dead -child. But ours died because we could not buy -them enough to eat.”</p> - -<p>The little duchess wept again at this, but -presently drying her eyes, she said:</p> - -<p>“I will do all I can to pay you.”</p> - -<p>Trimousette did not think it necessary to -mention this adventure to the duke. She did -not see him every day even when he was in -Paris, and besides, when she tried to tell him -things, she always grew frightened and the -words died upon her lips. The servants, however, -told the duke of it when he came home<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -in the evening. He had spent most of the intervening -time trying to quiet Madame de -Valençay, who was in paroxysms of terror. -The duke grew every day more bored by his -friend, and concluded to spend the evening at -home, in order to escape Madame de Valençay -and her scoundrelly running footmen, who -watched his comings and goings as if he were -a criminal.</p> - -<p>For the third or fourth time since his marriage -he sought, of his own free will, his -wife’s society. She spent her evenings in a -little room on the ground floor of the Hôtel -de Belgarde which opened upon the garden. -When Trimousette heard the duke’s knock, -she thought it was Victor’s and ran to open -the door. The sight of her husband disconcerted -her so that she stopped and hesitated -awkwardly, quite unlike Madame de Valençay, -who could not be awkward if she -tried.</p> - -<p>Diane, the broken-legged hound, who was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -Trimousette’s constant companion, licked the -duke’s hand, and gave a soft whine of delight. -Trimousette, whose heart fluttered whenever -she saw her husband, was undemonstrative -and inarticulate. The duke, after politely -greeting his duchess, and patting Diane’s -head, walked to the fireplace, where a little -blaze crackled. The time was September, and -there was an autumn sharpness in the air.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid you were alarmed to-day by -that mob of wretched women,” said the duke -presently, as he warmed his hands at the fire, -the mantel mirror reflecting his handsome -face and figure.</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Trimousette timidly, “I was -not frightened.”</p> - -<p>The duke stroked his chin reflectively. Silent -women like his duchess were sometimes -preferable to those who shrieked and screamed -at the least provocation, like his friend Madame -de Valençay.</p> - -<p>Having said so much Trimousette picked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -up her embroidery frame and, seating herself, -began to embroider. The duke, looking at -her, congratulated himself that she had lost -the habit of blushing and starting every time -he spoke to her, which, for a while after his -marriage, made him apprehend that she might -fall in love with him and that would have been -excessively annoying. Meanwhile, Trimousette’s -heart was palpitating faintly, and her -black eyes were cast down because she was -too embarrassed to look up.</p> - -<p>“I think,” said the duke, “it would be as -well to go to the Château de Belgarde a little -earlier this year.”</p> - -<p>He was thinking that he must get away for -a time from Madame de Valençay’s cursed -running footmen perpetually chasing him with -her pink notes. Trimousette felt a sudden -access of courage, which nerved her to say, -almost boldly:</p> - -<p>“Would it not be pleasanter to go to -Boury?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>“That little dungeon in Brittany!” cried -the duke, laughing.</p> - -<p>“But it is so quiet and peaceful there,” continued -Trimousette, blushing at her own boldness. -“I think I—I—should like to go to -Boury.”</p> - -<p>It was the first time since their marriage -that she had ever proffered a request; and the -duke, like most imperial masters, was sometimes -capable of a generous action. Besides, -it occurred to him that Madame de Valençay -would scarcely follow him to Boury.</p> - -<p>All at once, while the duke stood hesitating, -the duchess’s shyness vanished for one brief -moment, and she became positively eloquent.</p> - -<p>“I know all about it,” she said, clasping -her hands eagerly; “it is by the sea, and there -is a garden running to the cliffs, with plants -so hardy that even the fierce sea winds cannot -kill them. And there are beautiful woods and -fields, and you—I—we could read in the -mornings, and in the afternoons you could go<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -out with your fowling piece, and in the evenings—” -She stopped, trembling and quite unable -to put into words the enchanting dream -that rose before her. The quiet evenings tête-à-tête -with the duke, he reading perhaps—he -sometimes read the works of Monsieur Voltaire -and Monsieur Rousseau. And she would -sit by working at her tambour frame, with -Diane, her faithful friend and sympathizer, at -her feet. The vision that hovered in Trimousette’s -mind was not reflected in the duke’s. -He only saw that his quiet little duchess -wished very much to go to Boury, and had -made the longest and boldest speech he had -ever heard from her lips.</p> - -<p>“Then, madame,” he cried, “I will consider -what you say. At all events, we will -leave Paris, and possibly we may dwell, like -a pair of turtle doves in a cage, for the space -of a week at Boury.”</p> - -<p>When the duke went out, banging the door -after him, Trimousette actually danced about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -the room in her joy and triumph. She would -have him at the little country place all to herself, -and for one whole week. There would -be no brazen intrusion of Madame de Valençay, -and perhaps—perhaps the duke might -forget her; and then would come true that -dream of the honeymoon—for Trimousette -had never had a honeymoon.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_052.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_053.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V<br /> - - -<small>THE EARTHQUAKE</small></h3> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_t.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THIS rosy vision of Boury with -her duke lasted Trimousette -just twenty-four hours. The -duke, on reflection, concluded -that Boury was too far away -from Paris, where all was tumult and uncertainty. -It was not too far away from Madame -de Valençay, of whom the duke was -now almost weary, but for him to go to Brittany -might look as if he were running away -from their Majesties, who were in very great -danger. So, the next evening, the duke again<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -came into Trimousette’s little room and told -her it was not Boury to which they would go, -but Belgarde, near to Versailles. He even -condescended to give his reasons. Trimousette -listened with a mute, unmoved face. -She was so used to disappointments that she -took them without protest. Of course, she -thought the real reason was Madame de Valençay, -and when the duke left the room, she -went and looked at herself in the mirror.</p> - -<p>“No, Trimousette,” she said to herself, -“you are not pretty; your eyes are dark, and -you have long, soft, black hair, and little feet. -But that is not beauty. Nor is the love of the -most splendid duke in France for you, although -you may be his wife.”</p> - -<p>The duke invited a great party to spend -the week at the château, and the little duchess -went soberly through her duties as hostess. -Everybody said she was much too quiet, -which was true. Others said she had no -feeling, which was ridiculously false.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>The party was very gay. The world was -rapidly turning upside down. Nobody had -any money, the black clouds and red lightnings -and earthquake shocks were bewildering men’s -minds, so the only thing to do was to laugh, -to dance, to sing.</p> - -<p>That is what the company at the Château -de Belgarde did, the duke leading all the wild -spirits in the party.</p> - -<p>The one comfort the little duchess had was -that her brother Victor was among the roysterers. -He was ever kind to her, but like -her husband, a trifle careless. Victor was -working night and day at a little play, to be -produced in the private theatre at Belgarde. -It was meant to shadow forth the final triumph -of the aristocracy over the people, who -were making themselves to be seen and heard -and felt at every turn. The play was to -be produced on the night before the party -broke up.</p> - -<p>Now, it was the fixed and grim determination<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -of the duke that Madame de Valençay -should not track him to Belgarde, to worry -him. But the lady was too clever for him. -He could not prevent her from visiting a -neighboring château, and coming over with a -large party to spend the day at Belgarde, as -country neighbors do everywhere.</p> - -<p>Never had Madame de Valençay looked -more deliciously seductive than on that day. -She might have sat for one of Botticelli’s -nymphs in her soft wine draperies without a -hoop, being in the country, her long fair hair -in curls about her shoulders, and wearing a -hat crowned with roses.</p> - -<p>In contrast to this dazzling creature was -the pale little duchess sombrely dressed, her -silence, which verged on awkwardness, placing -her at the greatest disadvantage beside -the brilliant, rippling talk of Madame de -Valençay and her laughter like the music of -a fountain.</p> - -<p>In one thing only did the duchess carry off<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -the palm. Madame de Valençay, like a peacock, -was all beauty except her feet, which -were large and ill-shaped. The duchess’s -small, arched feet looked smaller than ever in -the dainty black shoes with black silk stockings -which she wore.</p> - -<p>Trimousette had shown no sign of chagrin -when Madame de Valençay arrived with a -merry party, all laughing and chattering like -so many birds in spring. It was a part of her -reticent pride to make no complaint, to show -no uneasiness. The duke was furiously angry -with Madame de Valençay for hunting him -down, but she was so beautiful, she tripped -up and down the terrace with such airy grace, -she was so wickedly merry at his expense, -that, manlike, he forgave her.</p> - -<p>This week, which Trimousette had pictured -to herself as so charming, turned out to be -one of the most trying of her life. She -scarcely saw her duke except in the evening -when the saloons were full of persons, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -there was much fiddling and dancing. Nor -did she see much more of Victor, who was -keen about his play. The very last evening -of all it was produced and was a huge success. -By some sort of hocus-pocus, Madame -de Valençay had forced herself into the cast, -and made a divinely beautiful marquise, to -whom the duke, as a soldier of fortune, made -violent love and made it well, too, his duchess -looking on with a face composed, almost dull. -Victor himself was disguised most bewitchingly -as a ragpicker, and in his character denounced -the aristocracy furiously, to the uproarious -delight of his audience.</p> - -<p>It was the most amusing thing in the world, -and all the fine ladies and gentlemen nearly -died of laughing at it. The heart of the young -duchess alone did not respond to this ridicule -of the earthquakes and the storm clouds. She -remembered the words of the washerwomen -and the cooks, and the strange glare in their -eyes and their pinched faces.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>The gayety of the party lasted until midnight, -when the ball after the play and the -supper was nearly over. Then a messenger, -pale and breathless with hard riding from -Paris, arrived on a spent horse, and told how -the people had gone to Versailles and had -carried the king and queen and their children -and Madame Elizabeth off to Paris. How -the king, foolish and shamefaced, had appeared -on the balcony of the Tuileries with -the red cap of liberty on his head, and how -the royal people were no better than prisoners -in that palace, and that Paris had gone mad.</p> - -<p>There were no cowards among this party -at the Château of Belgarde except Madame -de Valençay. Much as she loved the duke, -she loved her own skin better, and privately -resolved to seek shelter in England until the -shower was over, not knowing it to be the -deluge.</p> - -<p>The duke, who had not a drop of coward’s -blood in him, started for Paris at daylight.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -He took his duchess with him, not that he -particularly cared for her society, but because -it did not enter his rash head that anybody -should be afraid of anything. So to Paris -they went, and on the next night the duke -was visited by a deputation of rapscallions -calling themselves the National Guard, thrust -into a wretched hackney coach with a ruffian -on each side of him, and cast into the prison -of the Temple as a conspirator against the -liberties of the people.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_059.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>PART THREE</i></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_063.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI<br /> - - -<small>DIANE’S OPINION</small></h3> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_i.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was one thing to catch the -Duke of Belgarde and another -thing to keep him. Exactly -one week from the night of his -arrest and imprisonment he -was once more at large, and all through the -courage, resource, and seductive powers of -his quiet, sombre-eyed, shrinking young wife. -Trimousette under a sharp spur became articulate, -and the latent vast energy and spirit -she possessed was instantly developed by blows -and hammerings as sparks are struck from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -the dull black flint. The night of the duke’s -arrest Trimousette shed not one tear on parting -with the man she loved. The duke -thought her rather insensate and would have -relished a few tears from her. Nevertheless, -Trimousette straightway set her wits, which -were not inconsiderable, to work in order to -help her husband. She determined to see him. -Dressing herself in her simplest gown, for she -accorded best with the note of simplicity, and -going straight to Marat, the most hideous and -abominable of men, she sweetly and calmly -asked him to permit her to see her husband for -one half hour to settle some family affairs. -Marat thought he had never seen a simpler, -more democratic young person than this little -duchess. He was very artfully flattered by -Trimousette, who had little or no experience -in that line, but who being all a woman, succeeded -admirably at the first attempt. Marat, -admiring Trimousette’s large black eyes, -agreed to do what he could. These eyes, usually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -so tragic, assumed a smiling and brilliant -expression as soon as Trimousette was -brought face to face with danger. Within -twenty-four hours after her meeting with -Marat, she was admitted to an interview with -her husband in the prison of the Temple.</p> - -<p>Of course she was searched on entering and -leaving the prison. It was an ordeal which -brought most great ladies to tears and reproaches, -but Trimousette bore it with something -that savored both of dignity and coquetry, -and actually smiled when the ruffians -who searched her complimented her charming -little feet. They did not observe, around -the bottom of her petticoat, yards and yards -of flat silk braid, which made really a good -strong rope, nor did they discover, hidden -in her thick black hair, some gold pieces. -When she was admitted to the cell of the -duke, he was the most surprised man in Paris, -and more so still when Trimousette, having -suddenly found a very eloquent tongue, laid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -before him a clever plan of escape, along with -all the braid she was ripping off her petticoat -and the money out of her hair. The duke -thought he knew women—certainly he had -seen a great deal of them ever since he -was a pretty page at the court of Louis -the Fifteenth. But he had not been much -in the way of knowing true love, nor the -magic which it works in the heart of a -woman.</p> - -<p>He gazed at his wife with something like -admiration for the first time, and was very -gallant to her, kissing her hand. Trimousette -did not now mistake gallantry for love. She -had grown wise upon disappointments. She -remained a short half hour, and then proudly, -for all her humility, would not wait to be notified, -but left her husband’s cell, bidding him -good-by again without a tear. Certainly the -duke shed no tears. He was deeply grateful -to his wife and profoundly astonished at the -new attitude she assumed. Immediately he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -busied himself with the schemes for his escape -planned by his wife.</p> - -<p>Three nights later, just before daylight, he -dropped out of his prison window into the -garden of the Temple, and scampered off, the -sentry very obligingly turning his back until -the duke was well out of sight.</p> - -<p>Great was the hue and cry raised after the -Duke of Belgarde. No suspicion attached to -his little duchess, who was then on her way -to the small castle on the Breton coast. True, -she had seen the duke, but those who knew -about these things, or thought they did, declared -that she was too timid, too silent, too -young to assist in the bold plan of escape -which had freed her husband.</p> - -<p>Trimousette arrived at Boury under instructions -from the duke to remain there until -she should get further directions from him. -She reckoned upon remaining a month; and -stayed three years and a half.</p> - -<p>Never in the same space of time had so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -much happened in any country as in France -from 1789 to 1794. The old order that had -lasted a thousand years was engulfed, and -black chaos reigned. The little duchess in -the old stone castle by the sea heard the reverberating -thunders, and felt the earth rocking -under her feet, and saw the crashing wreck of -monarchy. She stirred not, having been told -to remain tranquilly at Boury until her lord -should send her word otherwise. The duke -was in the thick of the tumult and was in -danger every hour of the day and night. He -was sometimes a fugitive for his life; again -he appeared boldly in Paris and defied arrest. -He was not one of those who would have -saved poor Louis the Sixteenth and Marie -Antoinette by flight. On the contrary, being -of inextinguishable courage, he advised using -the strong hand, and would have had Louis -the Sixteenth show something of the spirit of -Henry the Fourth. The thing which Fernand, -Duke of Belgarde, hated most was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -cowardice, and through this was he absolved -from the spell of Madame de Valençay. She -had fled to England and never ceased importuning -the duke by letter to run away from -France. The duke on reading these letters -would dash them under foot and trample upon -them in his fury. Nor would he answer them, -considering himself insulted by them. This -did not keep Madame de Valençay from writing -them, because, unlike Trimousette, she -was without pride.</p> - -<p>The duke made the handsomest possible -thanks to his duchess for her share in his -escape, and really meant to show his appreciation -of the fact that she was the only -woman who had ever helped him and never -bothered him. But too much was happening; -rivers of blood were flowing everywhere, and -only those things which were insistent made -any impression on the duke, and Trimousette -was the least insistent person on earth.</p> - -<p>Nothing more unlike the sweet dream which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -Trimousette had planned for Boury could be -imagined than the life she led there for more -than three years. She was quite alone, except -for her <i>dame de compagnie</i>, a sour old -lady of whom Trimousette was mortally -afraid. True, she had with her Diane, the -broken-legged hound, now blind and scarcely -able to creep at Trimousette’s heel when the -two walked together upon the rocky shore at -sunset to dream of the absent one. For Trimousette -felt sure Diane dreamed of her beautiful, -brilliant master. In the long evenings -spent in the gloomy old saloon Trimousette -would take in her hands Diane’s trembling -paws and whisper:</p> - -<p>“Diane, do you think he ever remembers -us? Do you think he will ever send for us?”</p> - -<p>And Diane would give a melancholy whine, -indicating that she did not believe the duke -ever would. Sure enough the duke did not -send for either his wife or his dog, and poor -Diane, weary of waiting, at last lay down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -quietly one night by Trimousette’s bed and -was found dead next morning.</p> - -<p>Trimousette felt more alone than ever in -her life when the poor lame dog was dead. -Soon after, she got news that Madame de -Floramour had died of chagrin at the disasters -and irreligion into which France was -plunged; and last—ah, cruel stroke!—Victor -fell fighting gallantly in La Vendée.</p> - -<p>The young duchess bore these blows in -patience and silence. The duke managed to -contrive a letter of sympathy to his duchess -when the soul of Victor de Floramour was -called away. The letter was very ill-spelled -and ill-written, for the duke’s accomplishments -were those of Henry the Fourth—he -could drink, he could fight, and he could be -gallant to the ladies, but he could not write, -although he could think excellently well. Trimousette -treasured this rude scrawl. It was -the nearest to a love letter she had ever received -from any man.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_072.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII<br /> - - -<small>CITIZENESS BELGARDE</small></h3> -</div> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_i.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IN the long days and months -and years Trimousette spent -at Boury she was forced to -employ herself. She had no -great taste for books beyond -books of poetry, but she practiced on the -cracked harpsichord which had belonged to -the duke’s mother, and she developed a pretty -little voice in which she sang to herself songs -of love and longing. One day, during the -winter of 1794, Trimousette got some news -from Paris. Queen Marie Antoinette had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -followed King Louis to the guillotine, and the -Duke of Belgarde was once more in the prison -of the Temple. He got there by one of the -few acts of stupidity he ever committed in his -life. He had slipped into Paris after the execution -of Queen Marie Antoinette, determined -to save the little Dauphin if the wit of man -and the sacrifice of many lives could contrive -it. Then came in the stupidity. This duke, -who could do everything superlatively well -except to write and spell, undertook to pass -himself off as a schoolmaster! Moreover, he -wore a shabby brocade coat, the last remnant -of his wardrobe. Robespierre and St. Just -then had France by the throat and were wolfishly -devouring her children. It did not take -them long to discover that this schoolmaster -who could not spell was Fernand, Duke of -Belgarde, and they promptly clapped him into -prison. For those unfortunates imprisoned by -these two men there was but one exit and that -was in the arms of Madame Guillotine, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -held a well-attended court at sunset every day -in the Place de la Révolution.</p> - -<p>Within a fortnight Trimousette heard this -grim news of her husband. It was February, -the ground was covered with snow, and for a -duchess to go to Paris was like putting one’s -head in the lion’s mouth. All this was urged -upon Trimousette by her <i>dame de compagnie</i>. -It had no more effect upon her than the soft -falling snow upon the Breton rocks. Before -midnight on the day she heard the heartbreaking -news Trimousette was on her way to -Paris. She was not in her own ducal traveling -chariot, but in the common <i>diligence</i>, for -this inexperienced creature seemed gifted -with a kind of prescience, nay, a genius of -common sense, which stood her in place of -actual knowledge of the world. She traveled -as Madame Belgarde, wisely dropping the <i>de</i>, -and absolutely alone, refusing even to take a -maid.</p> - -<p>Three days afterwards, on a March morning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -Robespierre, the apostle of murder, had -just finished arraying himself in the sky-blue -coat and cream-colored breeches which he -loved, when a lady was announced in the -anteroom. Robespierre loved the society of -ladies, and one of the privileges of his position -as chief murderer was the sight of dainty -women prostrate before him, begging and imploring -him for the lives of their husbands, -fathers, or sons.</p> - -<p>The lady in this case neither prostrated -herself, nor begged, nor implored. She was -quite calm and self-possessed, and although -not beautiful had fine black eyes. After -making Robespierre a charming curtsey, she -said, smiling:</p> - -<p>“Citizen Robespierre, I am Citizeness Belgarde, -once known as the Duchess of Belgarde, -and I have come to ask that I be -admitted to share the imprisonment of my -husband, once Duke of Belgarde.”</p> - -<p>Robespierre, who dearly loved a duchess,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -motioned Trimousette to be seated, then said -in his croaking voice after a moment:</p> - -<p>“There is no doubt your husband has conspired -against the liberties of the people, and -the only way in which those liberties can be -secured is by the death of all those who would -have destroyed liberty, like that tyrant Louis -Capet.”</p> - -<p>Now, thought Robespierre, she will begin -to sob and beg for her husband’s life. But -not so. Trimousette reflected a moment, and -then said, softly and clearly:</p> - -<p>“The killing of his Most Christian Majesty -and of the blessed Queen Marie Antoinette -was barbarous murder.”</p> - -<p>Robespierre started violently. No man, -much less a woman, had dared before to say -so much to him. He looked with scowling -green eyes at Trimousette composed and even -smiling slightly.</p> - -<p>“The National Assembly long since decreed -the death of all who should advance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -such treason,” he said, as soon as he could -catch breath.</p> - -<p>“So I supposed,” replied Trimousette; -“but if I can but be allowed in my husband’s -prison——”</p> - -<p>A light leaped into her black eyes as she -spoke. Robespierre, stroking his chin, regarded -her critically. How would she go to -the guillotine? Probably quite quietly, without -making the least outcry of resistance.</p> - -<p>“Now, Citizen Robespierre,” said Trimousette, -rising and coming toward him, “surely, -you cannot refuse the request of a lady. I -came to you not only because you have all -power, but because I knew you to be gallant—a -gentleman, in short.”</p> - -<p>So said the most sincere of women glancing -at Robespierre with a look dangerously -near to coquetry as well as flattery, and -nobody had ever suspected this taciturn woman -of being either a coquette or a flatterer. -Yet, being a woman, she could be both<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -coquette and flatterer for the man she loved. -What perjuries will women commit for love! -Robespierre reflected and Trimousette smiled. -He spoke and she answered him with soft, -insinuating words; and at last she got out of -him the written commitment, charging her, -too, with conspiring against the liberties of -the people, and condemning her to be imprisoned -with her husband, Citizen Fernand -Belgarde, in the prison of the Temple.</p> - -<p>Trimousette almost laughed aloud with joy -when this grim document was made out, and -again gave Robespierre a bewitching little -curtsey, such as the most finished coquette -might have done. She climbed joyfully into -the dirty cab with the dirtier gendarmes who -were to deliver her to the jailers in the Temple.</p> - -<p>It was a mild March afternoon when he -who had once been Duke of Belgarde sat at -his prison window, looking down into the -dreary old garden of the Temple. The window -was semicircular, reaching from the floor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -half way to the low ceiling, and gave not -much of sun or even light. The duke was -thinking, strangely enough, of his duchess. -She was a good little thing; shy, but not a -born coward like the Valençay woman—nay, -somewhat indifferent to danger and, for a -woman, averse from shrieking and screaming, -but timid in her attitude toward life. She -had certainly showed some ingenuity in forwarding -his escape three years and a half -ago. The duke had made up his mind upon -his arrest that there was not much chance -of a duke and peer of France escaping the -guillotine, and so quite coolly accepted the -certainty that his name would soon be in the -list which was posted up every morning, of -those for whom the tumbrils would wait at -seven o’clock in the evening. As his inexpertness -with the pen had got him into his present -plight, the duke determined to remedy that -defect in his education. He had on his incarceration -gravely explained to the turnkey that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -there might not be much use for writing in -purgatory, where he declared all gentlemen -went—the revolutionists going to eternal -punishment, and the ladies to heaven. Nevertheless, -he meant to improve his handwriting. -On this March afternoon the duke, seated at -a rickety table, was busy practicing his new -accomplishment of writing, when he heard the -door of his cell open behind him. He did not -turn his head. This Citizen Belgarde was a -disdainful fellow, and never saw his jailers -until they stood before him. In spite of this, -and perhaps because of it, he was a favorite -with turnkey Duval, who often frankly expressed -his regret that the day was not far off -when Citizen Belgarde would be started in -a tumbril on his way to the Place de la -Révolution.</p> - -<p>Trimousette, standing just within the door, -which was closed behind her, had a good look -at her duke—as good, that is, as her fast-beating -heart would permit to her yearning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -tear-filled eyes. Upon his profile, clearly silhouetted -against the window’s dim light, she -saw the pallor of a prisoner. He still wore -his shabby brocade coat and an embroidered -waistcoat, but both were threadbare and -dingy. His hair, long and curling, was tied -with a black ribbon to distinguish him from -the cropped heads which the revolutionists -affected. But his eyes, the eyes of a fighter, -were undaunted, and his mouth still knew how -to smile. The Duke of Belgarde considered -that he had lost the game of life, and the only -thing left was to pay like a gentleman. As -Trimousette watched, he threw down his pen, -pushed his chair back, cocked his feet upon -the table, and began to whistle quite jovially -“Vive Henri Quatre.”</p> - -<p>Still he had not looked toward her, and Trimousette’s -courage, having brought her alone -in night and storm from Brittany, and strongly -sustained her when she went to see Robespierre -of the green eyes and croaking voice,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -and got herself condemned to prison upon a -capital charge—could not carry her the yard -or two between her and her soul’s desire.</p> - -<p>But then the duke turned, recognized her, -rose, and, obeying a sudden impulse, opened -his arms to her. True, he would have rejoiced -to see a dog, even broken-legged Diane, -anything which was connected with the splendid -dream of the past. Yet was the duke -actually glad to see the only woman who could -love him without worrying him.</p> - -<p>Trimousette did not fly into his arms. Poor -soul, even at that moment rose the undying -instinct of womanhood not to yield too quickly. -The duke came forward and, by the same -impulse, swept her into his arms. At once, in -the twinkling of an eye, love was born within -him, and he kissed her as a lover for the first -time in their married life. A glory, as of the -morning, rose before Trimousette’s eyes. She -had lost all, even her life was a forfeit, but -she had gained all—her husband’s love.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_083.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII<br /> - - -<small>THE BEGINNING OF THE HONEYMOON</small></h3> -</div> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_p.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">PRESENTLY the first agitation -was past, and Trimousette -told, as if it were the simplest -thing in the world, the story of -her journey alone by <i>diligence</i> -from the Breton coast to Paris, and how she -forced her way into Robespierre’s presence -and had wrung from him the boon of being -with her husband.</p> - -<p>“But let us not deceive ourselves,” said the -duke gently, still holding her to his breast. -“I shall not escape from the Temple this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -time. No man has ever got away from this -prison twice. I am destined to follow his -Majesty the King and her Majesty the Queen -to the guillotine.”</p> - -<p>He expected that Trimousette would faint -or shriek when he said this, but she looked at -him with calm eyes and answered in a soft, -unbroken voice:</p> - -<p>“So it may be, but Robespierre has promised -me that when you leave the prison I shall -go with you.”</p> - -<p>The duke held her a little way from him -and studied her reflectively. Yes, it was better -so. In a flash had been revealed to him -the height and depth of her adoration. What -would be her fate if left alone among those -howling wolves who now ravened France? -He would have taken with him any creature -that he loved, as he would have saved a -bullet for that creature if he had been surrounded -and overwhelmed by savages, whose -blood thirst must be appeased.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>“Well, then,” continued Trimousette, still -smiling and composed, “let us here await -God’s will.”</p> - -<p>“And that of the National Assembly,” -grimly replied the duke, who had not become -either pious or forgiving under the shadow -of the guillotine, but, like most men, was the -same in all circumstances. Some, however, -mistake fear for repentance—not so Fernand, -Duke of Belgarde.</p> - -<p>There was but one chair, one bed, one table -in the room, and when the turnkey brought -the duke’s supper, there was only one cup, -one plate, and no spoon or knife at all. To -the turnkey’s surprise, Citizen and Citizeness -Belgarde made merry at this. Trimousette was -to have a little cell opening into the duke’s, -but when the rusty door was forced wide, -there was nothing but the bare walls and floor. -The duke, assuming an air of authority as -if he were giving orders to a lackey at the -Château de Belgarde, directed the turnkey to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -bring what was necessary for the comfort of -the Duchess of Belgarde, and the turnkey, -appreciating the joke, grinned and winked at -the duke. Then the duchess, in her sweet, -complaisant manner, said to him:</p> - -<p>“Pray, take no offense at the Duke of Belgarde. -He is not yet used to being in prison. -But do me the favor, please, kind sir, to give -me at least a bed to sleep upon and a chair -to sit in. Not so good as your wife has -at home, perhaps, but I shall be easily satisfied.”</p> - -<p>The turnkey Duval went, and returned -after a few minutes to say that not only might -the duchess have a bed and a chair and a -table, but he would even get an old counterpane -and hang it up as a curtain between the -cells. This was luxury undreamed of by Trimousette, -and she overwhelmed Duval with -pretty thanks. The turnkey of his own accord -put up the bed and placed the chair and -table which all prisoners were allowed, and,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -having himself a taste for luxury, actually -laid a piece of carpet by the side of the bed -and put a coarse cover on the table.</p> - -<p>This prison supper was the first time the -Duke and Duchess of Belgarde had ever -supped together alone with each other. They -felt a furtive and secret joy at being together, -for the duke had been steadily falling in love -with his wife ever since she appeared in his -cell an hour before. He noticed a new expression -in her black eyes, an expression of hope -and even of joy. Trimousette, with a woman’s -keenness, knew she was on the road to her -kingdom—her husband’s heart. It was so odd -that it was almost comical, the way the duke -examined his wife. She certainly had beautiful eyes, -and a slim figure, and although -dressed in the simplest manner, as became a -lady who traveled alone, Trimousette had not -forgotten her solitary piece of coquetry—her -delicious little shoes. Also, she had suddenly -found her tongue, and talked to her husband so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -freely and even gayly that he was astounded. -Was this the silent, shy, awkward girl he -had married so many years ago and who had -seemed to be growing shyer, more silent, more -awkward every year? He was so surprised, -so pleased, so touched, that he scarcely knew -what to make of it. The sky was still alight -when their supper was over, and Trimousette -produced some needlework which she had -been allowed to bring into the prison. She -was very artful, was this artless Trimousette, -and not meaning to thrust her company on -her husband, retired to her own little cell. -There a charming surprise awaited her. The -turnkey, over whom Trimousette had thrown -a spell of enchantment, had placed upon her -table a pot containing a geranium with ten -leaves and two brilliant scarlet blossoms. -Trimousette, after admiring her treasure, sat -down upon her one chair and began to stitch -diligently by the fading light. She was ever -a good needlewoman. Most prisoners, as soon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -as they were incarcerated, begged for pen, ink, -and paper, to write to their friends, and to -begin their struggle to get out of prison. Not -so Trimousette. She had no one to write to, -and particularly did not wish to get out of -prison.</p> - -<p>As she sat sewing, she heard the duke moving -restlessly about in the next cell, beyond -the ragged curtain. A mysterious smile came -into Trimousette’s eyes and upon her lips; -her husband was uneasy without her; he must -come and seek her—oh, rapturous thought! -Presently, the duke knocked quite timidly at -the side of the door. It might have been Trimousette -herself, the knock was so gentle; -and when Trimousette softly bade him enter, -he said, quite shamefacedly:</p> - -<p>“I have never been lonely in this place -before, for my thoughts, although painful -enough, always kept me busy. But I have -grown very lonely without you in the last five -minutes. May I enter?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>In that hour began Trimousette’s long-delayed -honeymoon.</p> - -<p>Trimousette, being by nature orderly and -the duke philosophic, they regulated their -lives as if they expected to die of old age in -the prison of the Temple. The duke had never -before had much leisure for reading, his time -having been chiefly taken up with war and -the ladies, nor had he felt the need of any -proficiency in writing until he became the -guest of the Revolution. His newly found -accomplishment with the pen revealed to him -a gift which neither he nor anyone else -ever suspected in him. He could write verses, -very pretty verses, all addressed to Trimousette. -These she set to music and sang in a -sweet little voice. Some of these songs were -quite gay and coquettish, and Trimousette -sang them gayly and coquettishly. Thus was -the kingdom of poetry and song opened to -them and they entered it hand in hand. When -they sat together at the rude table in the purple<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -April nights, the duke teaching Trimousette -his verses and she singing them softly -to him, they gazed with rapture into each -other’s eyes, and wondered how they could -ever have lived apart.</p> - -<p>They had no watch or clock and no means -of telling the time except by the prison bells, -until the duke contrived, with a wooden peg -driven into the bare table, a rude sundial. -They would not put upon it the motto of the -sundial in the old garden where Trimousette -had first dreamed of the duke; it was too sad. -The duke suggested the old, old one, “Only -the happy hours I mark,” but Trimousette -shook her head.</p> - -<p>“Are not all our hours happy when we are -together?” she asked, and her husband for -answer caught her to his breast.</p> - -<p>“I know another motto,” she whispered; -“it is on the sundial on the broken terrace at -Boury, ‘’Tis always morning somewhere in -the world.’”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>The duke therefore etched, with a piece of a -nail out of his shoe, this motto upon the table, -and Trimousette said it meant that when they -made their journey some evening to the Place -de la Révolution, they would close their eyes -for a few minutes and open them upon the -Eternal Morning. She had many sweet superstitions, -but behind them lay a noble courage -and faith itself.</p> - -<p>Trimousette was not always employed with -poetry and music, however, but devised for -herself many graceful and feminine employments, -the duke watching her meanwhile with -great delight. In the mornings she, like a -good housewife, would sew with diligence, -and patched and mended the duke beautifully. -Her own wardrobe contained but two gowns, -a black one, which she wore every day, and a -white one, which she saved carefully for a certain -great occasion likely to arrive any day; -for although she and her duke lived in their -two cells with love and peace, neither of them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -expected release except by the road which led -to the guillotine in the Place de la Révolution. -Robespierre had promised it, and in these matters -he never broke his word. They faced the -future with a composure which amazed themselves. -The duke had the courage of a soldier -who is always ready to answer the last -roll call; Trimousette’s simple and sublime -faith would have made her walk to the stake -as calmly as to the guillotine.</p> - -<p>It must not be supposed, however, that a -man with red blood in him like Fernand, -Duke of Belgarde, could see a new, sweet life -of love opening before him, and then could -always bring himself to resignation. He said -little when these moods, like slaves in revolt, -possessed him. At such times he would rise -from his bed in the night, grinding his teeth -and quivering with a dumb rage, and walk -stealthily like a cunning madman, up and -down, up and down, his narrow cell. Trimousette -waking, would rise, and going to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -him in the darkness, gently recall him to his -manhood, his fortitude, his heart of a soldier, -and then with the earnestness of an angel and -the simplicity of a child, she would tell him -of the strange certainty she felt that they -would not be separated even in the passage -of the abyss called death. The duke, listening -to her, and feeling the soft clasp of her arm -about his neck, would find something like repose -descend upon his tumultuous soul. At -least, they would go together—that much of -comfort was theirs. But it was only at times -that this mood came upon the duke. Soldier-like, -he had always looked upon death as an -incident, and the only really important thing -about it was how the thing could be done with -the greatest ease and dignity.</p> - -<p>“And surely,” Trimousette would say, -drawing up her slight figure and showing the -pride that was always alive, but secret in her -heart, “to die for one’s loyalty is a very good -way for the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -to make their exit.” Let no one feel sorry -for Trimousette. She had passed through -the Gate of Tears forever, and was already -in that Garden of All Delight, which men call -Perfect Love.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_095.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_096.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX<br /> - - -<small>TO-MORROW</small></h3> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_e.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">EVERY day at noon the prisoners -walked for an hour in the -garden and courtyard of the -Temple. They were quite -cheerful, and sometimes even -gay. Madame Guillotine was grown familiar -to their thoughts. They paid each other compliments -upon their courage, and made little -jokes on very grim subjects. The honeymoon -of the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde -amused, but also touched their fellow prisoners. -Among these was a pretty boy of sixteen,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -the Vicomte d’Aronda. His father had -died, as had Victor, Count of Floramour, gallantly -fighting in La Vendée. His mother and -sister had perished in the embrace of Madame -Guillotine. The boy alone remained. He felt -himself every inch a man, and showed more -than a man’s courage. He was immensely -captivated by the Duke of Belgarde’s dashing -air, which he still retained in spite of his -patched coat and shabby hat, and when the -duke introduced the little vicomte to Trimousette, -the boy fell, if possible, more in love -with her than with the duke. Every day during -their hour of exercise in the garden he -watched for them, and his boyish face reddened -with pleasure when they would ask him -to join them on their promenade up and down -the broken flags. It diverted the duke to -pretend to be jealous of so gallant a fellow -as the little vicomte, and the boy himself, half -bashful and half saucy, was charmed with the -notion of being treated as a gay dog. Neither<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -the duke nor Trimousette ever spoke to the -boy of the fate that lay before him, as well -as themselves, for he was so young—but sixteen -years old—and the soul is not full fledged -at sixteen. One day, however, the lad himself -broached the subject.</p> - -<p>“You see, madame and monsieur,” he -said, quite serenely, “all the men of my line -have known how to die, whether in their beds -of old age, or falling from their horses in -battle, and I, too, know how to die. I shall -be perfectly easy, and not let the villains who -execute me see that I care anything about it. -My mother died as bravely as the Queen herself; -so did my sister, only twenty years old; -and I shall not disgrace them. But I should -like very much to go the same day with you. -It would seem quite lonely to walk in this -garden without you.”</p> - -<p>When he said this, a woman’s passion of -pity for the boy overwhelmed Trimousette. -She felt nothing like pity for her own fate or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -that of the man she loved; they had entered -into Paradise before their time, that was all. -But the boy was too young to have had even -a glimpse of that Paradise. At least he -would go in his white-souled youth, and this -thought comforted Trimousette.</p> - -<p>So passed the happiest month of Trimousette’s -life. Her pale cheek grew rosy and -rounded like a child’s. Her black eyes lost -their tragic and melancholy expression and -now shone with a soft splendor of deep peace -and even joy. Trimousette, Duchess of Belgarde, -had come into her own at last. She received -from her husband the constant tribute -of his adoring and admiring love. When she -glanced up from her sewing, it was to find the -duke’s eyes lifted from his book or his writing -and fixed upon her. If she moved across -the narrow little cell, he watched her, noting -the grace of her movements. He told her -twenty times a day that she had the most -beautiful, dainty feet in the world. When she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -sang her little songs to him in a small pretty -voice, the duke thought it the most exquisite -melody he had ever heard. They were as far -removed from the world as if they were upon -another planet, and standing on the lonely -peak of existence between the two abysms -from which man emerges and into which he -descends, it was as if they contained in themselves -the universe.</p> - -<p>It was now April; the days were long and -bright, and the nights short and brilliant with -moonlight and star shine. One day—it was -the twenty-first of April—the air was so warm -and Maylike that Trimousette laid aside her -heavy black gown and put on the only other -one she possessed—her white one, which she -had saved for her bridal with death. Her -husband had not seen her in a white gown for -a long, long time, and paid her such loverlike -compliments that Trimousette blushed with -delight. When the time came for them to go -into the gardens for their one hour of fresh<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -air many of the prisoners remarked upon Trimousette’s -white gown, and the little Vicomte -d’Aronda, coming up, said gallantly:</p> - -<p>“Madame, I beg to present you with a bouquet -I gathered for you this morning,” and -handed her five puny dandelions and some -milkweed, tied together with a bit of grass.</p> - -<p>Trimousette was charmed, and thanked the -boy so prettily that he blushed redder than -ever, and the duke declared the vicomte was -a dangerous fellow with the ladies—at which -the lad answered saucily:</p> - -<p>“Ah, monsieur, if I could live until I am -grown up! Then I should indeed be devoted -to the ladies.”</p> - -<p>The duke turned away his head. The boy -was but sixteen years old and he would not -live to be much older.</p> - -<p>That day was illuminated for Trimousette; -it was so softly bright. As the afternoon wore -on, its languid beauty, its sad sweetness entered -into the soul of Trimousette. She did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -not busy herself as usual with the little tasks -she had devised for herself, but sat and moved -in a soft and composed reverie. Then, for a -long time she watched the rude sundial, studying -the motto, and, almost involuntarily, she -wrote upon the table with her pen the old -motto about the passing of the shadows called -man. She was serious, but not sad, and when -the duke, taking her hand, said to her:</p> - -<p>“My little Trimousette, does your heart -ache because we, shadows that we are, shall -no more pass this way?” Trimousette replied:</p> - -<p>“I tell you truly, my heart has not once -ached for myself since I have been in this -prison.”</p> - -<p>And with a lovely sidelong glance from her -black eyes, now no longer sad, she continued, -smiling:</p> - -<p>“We have had our honeymoon, and no -price can be too dear for that.”</p> - -<p>For the hundredth time the duke begged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -her pardon for those early years of neglect, -and Trimousette, answering his burning -kisses, whispered:</p> - -<p>“It does not matter now. All the great -joys and griefs color the past as well as the -present. Since you were to love me, I could -wait.”</p> - -<p>The perfect day had a sunset of unearthly -beauty. Together at the low-arched window -in the great prison wall Trimousette and her -best beloved watched the rosy sunset glow -give way to the keen flashing stars shining in -the deep blue heavens. They talked a little, -softly, but presently an eloquent silence fell -between them. Trimousette’s head was upon -her husband’s shoulder, and after a time she -slept. The duke drew her mantle about her -and held her close. And thus, in warmth and -peace and love, Trimousette slept an hour. -It was close upon nine o’clock and a great -vivid moon flooded the little cell with its silvery -radiance when the duke heard the key<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -turning quietly in the heavy lock. Duval, the -turnkey, entered, and obeying a sign from the -duke, walked noiselessly toward him. The -turnkey’s coarse face was pale, and his rough -hands shook. He said in a whisper to the -duke:</p> - -<p>“It is to-morrow—at seven in the evening—sunset -time.”</p> - -<p>The duke nodded coolly. The hour being -at hand he was all courage.</p> - -<p>The turnkey pointed to the sleeping Trimousette, -then turned away putting his sleeve -to his face. Trimousette stirred, and withdrawing -herself from the duke’s arm, looked -with calm, wide-open eyes from her husband -to the turnkey and back again. In the strong -white moonlight she saw clearly the faces of -both men.</p> - -<p>“It is to-morrow, I think,” she said.</p> - -<p>“It is to-morrow,” replied the duke, without a tremor.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Robespierre—” began the turnkey,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -and then in terror and rage stopped, -shaking his fist in the direction of the Rue St. -Honoré, where Robespierre lodged.</p> - -<p>“After all, it is well to leave a feast before -the candles are burned out,” said the duke, -smiling, and Trimousette added:</p> - -<p>“It is not Monsieur Robespierre. It is the -will of the good God who calls us, and we -pass over the short bridge, not the long one -of age and disease, but the shortest of all—and -we pass together.”</p> - -<p>The turnkey kept on in a shaking voice:</p> - -<p>“Not a soul but you knows who is to be -posted to-morrow, but I can tell you of two—the -sister of Louis Capet, Madame Elizabeth, -and the little boy who calls himself Vicomte -d’Aronda, and saunters about the garden so -jauntily.”</p> - -<p>“It is a great honor to us that we go with -the King’s sister, and as for the little lad—well, -he has no father, no mother, no brother, -no sister——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>It was the duke who said this. Trimousette -had never shown something like weakness -about the boy, and, falling back in her chair, -struck her hands together with a gesture of -anguish.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_106.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_107.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X<br /> - - -<small>THE STAR</small></h3> -</div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_dropcap_t.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE night in its pale glory passed, -and the morning dawned as -fair as if the world were freshly -made. The duke waited -until seven o’clock for Trimousette -to wake; she had slept like an infant -since midnight. Then he went and roused -her. She arose and dressed quickly, and began -those preparations which even the poorest -prisoner makes before leaving the world. -There were some books to be disposed of -and a few clothes, and the pot with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -geranium, now bearing three splendid scarlet -flowers.</p> - -<p>“It is well you have no shoes to leave, except -what you are wearing, for there is no -woman’s foot in France small enough for -your shoes,” said the duke, with an air of -compliment, and Trimousette nodded almost -gayly.</p> - -<p>At nine o’clock Duval came to them. The -duke was calmly writing at his table, and -Trimousette was smoothing out her white -gown upon the bed.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Monsieur Duval,” she cried cheerfully, -“we have decided to make you our -executor. The duke means to leave you his -pen and these books. You can sell the books -for ten francs perhaps. My clothes are few -and very shabby, but you may have a daughter -or perhaps a niece whom they will fit, so -pray take them. Also, I give you my geranium, -but I shall pluck the blossoms—one for -the duke to wear to the Place de la Révolution,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -one for myself, and one for the little -Vicomte d’Aronda.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, madame,” replied Duval -gruffly. “I—I—have not yet told the boy. -I don’t know how he will take it.”</p> - -<p>“Have no fear. His name is d’Aronda,” -said the duke, looking up from his writing.</p> - -<p>At noon the great doors clanged open, and -the prisoners, marching out, saw the list of -the condemned posted up in the vast, gloomy -archway. The list, which was long, was headed -with the name of the King’s sister, the -gentle and pious Elizabeth. Next came the -names of Citizen and Citizeness Belgarde, and -the twenty-fourth and last name was that of -Louis Frédéric d’Aronda.</p> - -<p>At this noontime, as on any other, Trimousette -and the duke walked in the garden. -They wished to say good-by to their friends -among their fellow prisoners, a brave custom, -rarely omitted. As the duke and Trimousette -passed out into the gloomy corridor, they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -saw, standing before the posted list in the -archway, the little vicomte, quite smiling and -composed.</p> - -<p>“It is a great honor,” he said, bowing low -with boyish bravado, “to go with the King’s -sister, and also an honor to go with the Duke -and Duchess of Belgarde.”</p> - -<p>“Death is nothing,” cried the duke debonairly, -laying his hand on the lad’s shoulder. -“I have faced him a hundred times in fight, -and if you look him straight in the eye and -advance upon him, he grows quite amiable to -look at.”</p> - -<p>“So my father always said,” replied the -boy, “and none of my family, monsieur, knew -fear. Even my sister, only twenty, was as -cool as any soldier, and surely a gentleman -cannot let his sister surpass him in valor. Oh, -if I die bravely, my father will praise me, and -my mother will smile upon me, and so will -my sister when we meet; and if I show the -white feather, I should be afraid to face them.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>“You shall go in the cart with us,” said -Trimousette, “and we will tell Madame -Elizabeth that you are a brave boy, a real -d’Aronda.”</p> - -<p>That day, too, was bright and cloudless, -and one of the most peaceful Trimousette -ever spent.</p> - -<p>At six o’clock there resounded through the -great stone corridors of the prison a loud, -echoing voice, calling the condemned to appear, -and at the same moment the tumbrils -rattled into the courtyard. Duval unlocked the -doors of the cells, and the Duke and Duchess -of Belgarde came forth, and at the same -moment the little vicomte appeared. He -had made as much of a toilet as he could, and -carried carefully in his hand a new, though -coarse, white handkerchief.</p> - -<p>Trimousette wore upon the breast of her -white gown a vivid red geranium blossom, -and another blazed upon the lapel of the -duke’s threadbare brocade coat. The third<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -blossom Trimousette pinned upon the little -vicomte’s breast, and he kissed her hand for it.</p> - -<p>Once in the courtyard, the guards objected -to the boy going in the same cart with Trimousette -and her husband—the cart would be -too heavy.</p> - -<p>“But he is so small—he takes up so little -room,” urged Trimousette, with soft pleading -in her eyes. And then, the lad, without waiting -for permission, jumped into the cart and -folded his arms defiantly, as much as to say:</p> - -<p>“Turn me out if you dare.”</p> - -<p>They allowed him to remain.</p> - -<p>There were twelve tumbrils in all for the -twenty-four condemned persons. The very -last to appear was a gentle, middle-aged lady, -the dead King’s sister, Madame Elizabeth. -Each of the condemned persons made her a -low bow, the little vicomte scrambling out -of the cart to make his reverence. The eyes -of Madame Elizabeth grew troubled as she -looked at the lad; the women and men could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -die, but the little lads—ah, it was too hard! -The Duke of Belgarde, as the man of highest -rank present, had the honor of assisting Madame -Elizabeth into the cart, for which she -thanked him sweetly. Her hands were the -first tied, the guards knowing well she would -make no resistance, and that the rest would -do as the King’s sister did. When it came to -the duke’s turn, he said:</p> - -<p>“Will you kindly permit me to assist madame, -my wife, into the cart first? Then I -shall submit willingly.”</p> - -<p>The ruffian in attendance assented with a -grin, and the duke gallantly helped Trimousette -into the tumbril, and then putting his -hands behind his back, they were tied, after -which he jumped lightly in himself and cried:</p> - -<p>“Drive on, coachman! Straight ahead, -first turning to the right!”</p> - -<p>The procession of the twelve carts moved. -In one sat a solitary person, in another sat -three, the Duke and Duchess de Belgarde and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -the young Vicomte d’Aronda. The evening -was as clear as crystal and the river, like a -string of pearls, slipped softly from the green -valley of the Seine, under the bridges, the -statues looking down upon the silvery stream, -past the palaces, in whose windows the sunset -blazed blood red. The great city was still -and breathless, as it always was when these -strange processions started for the great open -space where Madame Guillotine held her -court. Toward the west, the sky turned from -a flame of crimson to an ocean of golden light, -and then to a splendor of pale purple and -green and rose. Presently, a single palpitating -star came out softly in the heavens, now -dark blue, and shone with a veiled but steady -brilliance, growing larger and brighter as the -daylight waned. Trimousette, jolting along -upon the rude plank laid crosswise the tumbril, -leaned a little toward the duke, who, although -pinioned, yet supported her as the -cart rattled along the stony street. The boy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -sat at her feet, his look fixed upon her face. -He saw neither fear nor grief, but perfect -peace. From Trimousette the lad turned his -glance upon the duke, who had a cool and -victorious eye even in that hour.</p> - -<p>“I said a great many prayers last night,” -said the boy, after a pause, “and so that business -is finished. I leave all with God, as a -gentleman should who treats God as if He -were a gentleman and meant to keep His word -to us.”</p> - -<p>“He will keep His word to us,” answered -Trimousette. The boy’s courage charmed her, -and she thought, if long life had been given to -her she would have wished for such a son as -this Louis Frédéric d’Aronda.</p> - -<p>“When first I was in prison I rehearsed -this scene to myself and concluded there was -nothing about it to keep a man awake at -night,” said the duke. “I think with you, -my young vicomte, if there is a God, He is -a gentleman, and will treat us poor devils of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -mortals fairly. Is not that true, Trimousette?”</p> - -<p>“Quite true,” replied Trimousette.</p> - -<p>So, with calm and peaceful talk, they made -the journey, amid crowds of staring and agitated -people, who packed the streets and made -black the tops of the houses. A murmur of -pity for the little vicomte, sitting in the bottom -of the cart, and talking so cheerfully, swept -over the multitude. The women in the throbbing -crowds asked each other his name and -sometimes broke into sobbing as he passed. -This agitated compassion troubled the boy, -and he said, with his lips trembling a little:</p> - -<p>“I wish they would not say ‘Poor lad! -Poor little boy!’ I am afraid it will make me -weep, and that is what I should hate to do.”</p> - -<p>“If you are a man, you will not weep,” answered -the duke, who knew what chord to -touch. “You should say to them: ‘Ladies, -I would take off my hat to you if my hands -were not tied.’”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>The boy’s eyes sparkled; he loved to play -the man and the gallant; so he spoke to the -crowd as the duke had told him, and was innocently -vain of his own coolness.</p> - -<p>At last, the carts, jolting steadily onward, -reached the vast clear space of the Place de la -Révolution, crammed with people, and in the -open place in the middle a great Thing, black -and gaunt, reared itself high in the air. At -the top a blade of blue steel blazed in the sunset -glow.</p> - -<p>The first to dismount from the carts was -gentle Madame Elizabeth. She seated herself -placidly on one of the twenty-four chairs -ranged around in the circle. For the first -time it was noted of this simple and kindly -creature, once known as a Child of France, -something majestic in her demeanor. She -looked about her calmly, as much as to say: -“It matters little to me, Elizabeth, a Daughter -of France, what you may do.”</p> - -<p>Another woman, who had also been meek<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -all her life, showed a stateliness of bearing -which might well become a duchess. This -was Trimousette, Duchess of Belgarde. She -was the next to alight, after Madame Elizabeth, -and took her place of rank, next the -royal princess, first making her a low curtsey, -which the princess rose and returned. -Each lady present made two curtseys to this -royal lady and each man two bows, one on -dismounting from the cart, and another before -ascending the rude stairs to the platform -where the glittering ax worked in its groove. -The most graceful bow of all was made by -the Duke of Belgarde; the most debonair by -the Vicomte d’Aronda.</p> - -<p>The condemned persons passed in the order -of their rank; those of the lowest rank going -first. The little vicomte being last of all, -except the Duke and Duchess of Belgarde, -passed before the royal lady, sitting still and -stately in her rough wooden chair. Twenty -persons mounted the stairs to the platform,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -and twenty times the ax flashed up and down -in its groove. From the surging multitudes -around came occasionally gaspings and sobbings, -and even sometimes a wild shriek cut -the twilight air. But not one sob or shriek -came from those who went to their death, -each passing bravely and silently.</p> - -<p>The twenty-first name to be called was that -of Citizen d’Aronda, and the little vicomte, -standing up, cried:</p> - -<p>“I am here—Louis Frédéric, Vicomte -d’Aronda!”</p> - -<p>He went first to Trimousette and kneeled -to kiss her hand.</p> - -<p>“Au revoir, madame,” he cried; “we meet -again shortly, but meanwhile I shall have seen -madame, my mother.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we shall meet soon, and in the greatest -happiness,” answered Trimousette. Her -voice trembled a little—she had been less -brave about the boy than about anything -else. And the duke called out in a pleasant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -voice, just as if the lad were a full-grown -man:</p> - -<p>“Au revoir, my comrade!”</p> - -<p>The vicomte made his reverence to Madame -Elizabeth, who rose and returned it as if the -lad were a Marshal of France. In another -minute he was springing up the wooden steps, -and some women in the crowd began weeping -loudly, but were soon quieted by the rude -words and blows of the guards. Trimousette -did not see what happened next. Her eyes -were fixed upon the west, in which the single -star was growing more beautifully brilliant -every moment.</p> - -<p>Then it became the turn of Citizen Belgarde, -once known as the Duke of Belgarde. He -knelt and kissed Trimousette’s hand and rose -and kissed her cheek, saying with a smile:</p> - -<p>“I believe with the little lad that God is -a gentleman, and has not brought us together -only to tear us apart.”</p> - -<p>Trimousette answered with the sweet,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -bright smile which had only been hers since -her honeymoon began:</p> - -<p>“It is a good belief. Wait for me there,” -and pointed toward the star, now shining -large and bright in the purple heavens.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, she turned away her head, -and two warm tears ran down her cheeks. -Most men die as they have lived, and so did -Fernand, Duke of Belgarde. After making -his reverence to Madame Elizabeth, the duke -walked up the rude stairs coolly, his steady -tread resounding loudly. Then he shouted out:</p> - -<p>“Long live the King!”</p> - -<p>There was a sudden crash, some movement -and commotion on the scaffold. Then all was -over in this world for the Duke of Belgarde, -and but little remained for the wife who had -ever loved him better than her life.</p> - -<p>Trimousette rose quickly, made her reverence -to Madame Elizabeth, and when her -name was called she was already standing at -the foot of the wooden steps.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>Every man who looked at Trimousette -wished to help her; even one of the guards, -seeing how small and slight she was, would -have assisted her, but she said to him with a -kind of gentle haughtiness:</p> - -<p>“I thank you, monsieur, but I do not need -your help.”</p> - -<p>The executioner tore the white fichu from -her neck, leaving its unsunned beauty exposed -to the gaze of thousands of eyes. Trimousette’s -black eyes flashed, and a deep red -blush flooded her face and milk-white neck. -She turned for one moment toward the star -trembling in the western sky, and then, with -a glorified face, laid her dark head upon the -wooden block, and passed smiling into the -Great Silence.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_122.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2">A ROMANCE OF THE CIVIL WAR.</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="large"><b>The Victory.</b></span></p> - -<p>By <span class="smcap">Molly Elliott Seawell</span>, author of “The -Chateau of Montplaisir,” “The Sprightly Romance -of Marsac,” etc. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.</p> - - -<p>“With so delicate a touch and appreciation of the detail -of domestic and plantation life, with so wise comprehension -of the exalted and sometimes stilted notions of Southern -honor and with humorous depiction of African fidelity and -bombast to interest and amuse him, it only gradually dawns -on a reader that ‘The Victory’ is the truest and most -tragic presentation yet before us of the rending of home -ties, the awful passions, the wounded affections personal -and national, and the overwhelming questions of honor -which weighed down a people in the war of son against -father and brother against brother.”—<i>Hartford Courant.</i></p> - -<p>“Among the many romances written recently about the -Civil War, this one by Miss Seawell takes a high place.... -Altogether, ‘The Victory,’ a title significant in several -ways, makes a strong appeal to the lover of a good tale.”—<i>The -Outlook.</i></p> - -<p>“Miss Seawell’s narrative is not only infused with a -tender and sympathetic spirit of romance and surcharged -with human interests, but discloses, in addition, careful and -minute study of local conditions and characteristic mannerisms. -It is an intimate study of life on a Virginia -plantation during an emergent and critical period of American -history.”—<i>Philadelphia North American.</i></p> - -<p>“It is one of the romances that make, by spirit as well as -letter, for youth and high feeling. It embodies, perhaps, the -best work this author yet has done.”—<i>Chicago Record-Herald.</i></p> - -<p>“Aside from the engaging story itself and the excellent -manner in which it is told there is much of historic interest -in this vivid word-picture of the customs and manners of a -period which has formed the background of much fiction.”—<i>Brooklyn -Citizen.</i></p> -</div> - -<p class="center">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2">BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE FIGHTING CHANCE.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><span class="large"><b>The Younger Set.</b></span></p> - - - -<p>A Novel by <span class="smcap">Robert W. Chambers</span>. Illustrated -by G. C. Wilmshurst. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.</p> - -<p>This is a famous novel of New York society; a -brilliant picture of American wealth in its romance, -its sins, its splendors, its divorces and its sports; -a love story such as only Robert W. Chambers can -write. It is stronger, tenser, better than the same -author’s greatest, success, “The Fighting Chance.” -Richly illustrated by G. C. Wilmshurst.</p> - - - -<p>“It is brightly told, replete with the wit and sparkle -and charm that invests everything Mr. Chambers writes. -It is a delightful sojourn among people one could wish to -know.”—<i>Kansas City Star.</i></p> - -<p>“It is written with a freshness and vigor that cannot be -too much appreciated and praised.”—<i>Salt Lake Tribune.</i></p> - -<p>“It is the best story Mr. Chambers has ever written.”—<i>Cleveland -Leader.</i></p> - -<p>“The most popular writer in the country has improved -upon his own very popular ‘Fighting Chance.’”—<i>New -York World.</i></p> -</div> - -<p class="center">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST DUCHESS OF BELGARDE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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