Albert Smith

“ The animal was tired when he started; and the snow was now clogging round the wheels, rendering any material progress beyond his strength. At last, on coming to a deep drift, after a few attempts to drag the tumbrel through, he stopped altogether.
‘Malediction!’ muttered Philippe through his teeth; ‘everything is against us.’
‘They appear to be coming on at a fast trot,’ exclaimed Marie, as she hastily descended from the vehicle and stood at the side of the student. ‘We cannot possibly escape them.’
‘I am not foiled yet,’ replied Philippe. ”

“ With a hasty shriek Marie flung her lover from her, and retreated as far as the couch would allow her, repeating, as if in a dream, ‘Die! my husband and my father!’
‘Ay,’ said Gaudin, uttering each word slowly and calmly, as if he would have had it sink into the heart and memory of her he was addressing. ‘Ay—die! if we are to give the rein to our attachment. I cannot brook the slow and secret arts of an intrigue with thee, Marie; my love must have full scope and open daylight. I repeat, your husband and father must be removed. Do you understand me?’
The Marchioness returned no answer. ”

“ True it is, the vestiges of the mischief wrought remain; but their importance is diminished by the general quietude that reigns around. The foliage is fresh and green; the cleared air is breathed gratefully, and imparts its lightness to the spirits; feeding hope, and kindness, and all good aspirations. ”

“ Born in Rochester, N.Y., May 7, 1842. Educated at Tracey Female Institute, Rochester, and at Brockport, N.Y., Collegiate Institute. Married Albert Smith, of Springfield, Ill., in 1869. Author of "The Gift of Gentians", 1882; "The Inn of Rest", 1888; "Sometime and Other Poems", 1892. While Mrs. Smith has in recent years done work much more modern in character and finer as poetry, she is most widely known for her poem, "Sometime", written in her earlier life. ”

“ THE FLIGHT OF MARIE TO LIÉGE—PARIS—THE GIBBET OF MONTFAUCON Midnight was sounded upon the heavy bell of the Bastille by the sentinel on guard but a few minutes before the Marchioness of Brinvilliers—terrified, breathless, and, in spite of her hurry, shivering in her light dress beneath the intense cold—arrived at the Hôtel d’Aubray. There were no signs of life in that quarter of Paris, for the inhabitants had long retired to rest; a faint light, gleaming from the front windows of Marie’s residence upon the snow that covered the thoroughfare, alone served to guide her to the door. ”

“ Birds are singing, and the hum of bees blends pleasantly with their minstrelsy, coming in soft murmurs from the floating aviaries lying upon the surface of a glassy river, which would seem at perfect rest but for the quivering of the buds and lilies that struggle with its gentle stream, or the hanging flowers that droop from the bank to kiss the clear water. ”

“ The sky is deep blue, and cloudless, and the summer foliage of the trees waves in pleasant relief against its light, causing the dancing shadows to quiver on the spangled turf below, as though even the sunbeams were sporting for very gladness. ”

“ Lashed and goaded to madness, her horses flew on like the wind, as from the front of the carriage she promised an additional reward every instant to their riders if they brought her to Liége before the other traveller. But Desgrais—for it was he—was equally on the alert. On the first intimation that a carriage was in sight on the road before them, he had left the interior, and, clinging to the front of the voiture, was urging his own people on as earnestly as the Marchioness, until the uproar of cries and cracking whips was plainly audible to the terrified inmate of the first vehicle. ”

“ LOUISE GAUTHIER—THE CONCLUSION It frequently occurs that after a day of stormy darkness—when the elements appear to have combined the whole of their power against the earth, splitting the tossed and dismantled branches of the trees from their parent trunk, beating down the produce of the fields, and deluging the valleys with a sudden and rapid inundation, whilst the fire-laden clouds obscure the sun, lighting up the heavens in his stead by lurid flashes—the wind subsides, the clouds disperse, and the calm sunset beams over the now tranquil landscape. ”

“ M. Theria is not here, and I came to see his wife on my own affairs.’
‘Liar!’ cried Gaudin, as he quivered with jealous rage, seizing the arm of the Marchioness with a clutch of iron. ‘Theria is within, and you came to meet him only. You know that woman is not his wife; though many there be less constant. You would wean his love from her, and make him cast her upon the world, that you might be installed as his paramour. You see, I know all—in another moment she also shall be acquainted with everything.’
Sainte-Croix had spoken much of this upon mere chance, but it proved to be correct. ”

“ Our secrets are too terrible for both to be free at once. You should not have let me know that you thought me in your power.’
‘Has every notion of honour departed from you?’ asked Exili.
‘Honour!’ replied Sainte-Croix, with a short contemptuous laugh; ‘honour! and between such as we have become! How could you expect honour to influence me, when we have so long despised it—when it is but a bubble name with the petty gamesters of the world—the watchword of cowardice fearing detection?’
There was a halt in the progress of the carriage as it now arrived at the outer gate of the Bastille. ”

“ The Tapis Vert—the scene of the actresses’ rendezvous—was a wide alley of smooth green turf, bordered by statues, fronting the terrace of the chateau, and the magnificent fountain of Latona. All the guests of the fete had been attracted towards the salle de danse, and the only sounds that mingled with the distant fanfare of the band were the sighing of the gusty autumn wind as it swept through the long avenues, whirling the reddening leaves to the ground, and the plashing of the numerous fountains. ”

“ Exili was awake as well. He had raised himself in bed, and, by the light of the lamp which still burned in the chimney-corner, was staring fixedly at Sainte-Croix, with the same riveting gaze he had before directed towards him. It was not the look of human intent—a serpent would have fascinated a bird with the same expression, until the victim fell into its yawning mouth. Gaudin quailed before it—he knew not why; but there was something terrible in the unclosed and glaring eyes of the physician, which almost precluded him from inquiring what he desired. ”

“ Not an emotion was traceable in the face of Sainte-Croix, as, with a steady hand, he took a small packet from his cloak, and slowly breaking the seals, shook a portion of its contents into one of the glasses near him—a tall goblet with a piece of antique money blown in its hollow stem—which he filled with wine. He then raised the Marchioness from her crouching position, and, lifting the glass to his lips, said to her—
‘Marie; in your letter to me this night, you asked for means of death. You are not of that clay from which a self-murderess is made. Let our love end. ”

“ Then bandaging her eyes with a small scarf, he retired.
The sun was shining brightly; and at this moment its rays fell upon the glittering blade of a long sword which the headsman had hitherto kept concealed under his garment. Pirot saw it, and his heart sank within him—so much so, that his utterance was choked, and Marie, by whose side he was kneeling, demanded why he had thus finished his prayer. And then, as if aware of the cause, she exclaimed rapidly—
‘Holy Virgin, pray for me, and forgive me! I abandon my body, which is but dust, to the earth. ”

“ The crowd had thronged round the escort so densely that now neither party could move. The delay to Marie was fearful, and the terror of the moment was wrought to its extreme pitch by the curses and horrible salutations of the people, some of whom were close to the tumbrel.
‘Ho! ho! the capital meeting!’ cried a fellow on the bridge, applauding with his hands for joy. ‘Two poisoners at a time; Madame de Brinvilliers and the Physician Exili. What a pity they are not going to keep company out of the world.’
‘Down with the Italian!’ shouted another man, who was leaning from one of the windows. ”

“ Tearing uphill, until the breathless horses almost fell from being overtasked—anon racing down, with a precipitancy that threatened annihilation every instant—and then flying along the level road, so close together, that the steam from the animals in the carriage of the Marchioness was still visible in the gleam of the lamps belonging to Desgrais—did the chase continue. ”

“ That fearful aggravation which woman can exert with such crushing power,—that frigid and apparently insensible demeanour, the colder in proportion as the heart she has drawn into her toils is anguished and convulsed, was driving Gaudin to distraction. ‘Marie!’ he again cried, ‘do you not believe in the love which I bear for you?’
‘It is not love, Sainte-Croix,’ at length she replied. ‘A liaison like ours has little love to nourish its continuance; passion and jealousy can be its only ties of endurance, and sooner or later it must end in misery. ”

“ Houses are shut up, blinds newspapered, and furniture tied up in bags: in fact, to make a wretched joke, whilst the family is on the Rhine, its lamps and ottomans are all in Holland. There are no more carriages whirling about the west-end streets: no more thundering knocks echoing all day, and night, too, for the matter of that, in the squares. ”

“ GAUDIN LEARNS STRANGE SECRETS IN THE BASTILLE It was not until Galouchet, the gaoler, entered the chamber of the Tour de la Liberté the next morning that Sainte-Croix awoke from his slumbers—from one of those bright dreams of freedom, triumph, and happiness, albeit always tempered with some vague mistrust, which haunt our sleeping existence; the fairer in their visioned prospects, the more gloomy and hopeless the reality. ”

“ De la beauté d’une âme est un vrai témoignage;
Et qu’il est malaisé que, sans être amoureux,
Un jeune prince soit et grand et généreux.
C’est une qualité que j’aime en un monarque,
La tendresse du cœur est une grande marque;
Que d’un prince, à votre âge, on peut tout présumer,
Dès qu’on voit que son âme est capable d’aimer.
Oui, cette passion, de toutes la plus belle,
Traîne dans son esprit cent vertus après elle,
Aux nobles actions elle pousse les cœurs,
Et tous les grands héros ont senti ses ardeurs.’
Molière. ”

“ Every moment is of untold value.’
‘Where do you propose to take me?’ asked the Marchioness earnestly.
‘I see no better refuge for the instant than your château at Offemont.’
‘Offemont!’ exclaimed Marie; ‘it is twenty leagues from Paris; and in this dreadful weather we should perish on the route.’
‘It must be attempted,’ said Philippe; ‘you say your horses are there; and if we can once reach them, your means of getting to the frontier will be comparatively easy. We must brave everything. ”

“ Gaudin smarted under the taunt; but his face betokened no trace of the annoyance. He took the empty sheath of his sword, which still hung at his side, and, smiling carelessly, played with the lace that was fixed round his boot.
‘It is an odd rencontre,’ he said; ‘but you are no sorcerer, or you would not have been here. On that score you are safe. We stand a chance of being together for some time—perhaps we may become better friends.’
‘Friends!’ replied Exili, with a short, dreary laugh. ‘Never: we are not made of the stuff that can harbour such a dull sentiment. ”

“ He stopped exactly opposite the copse, and for a moment Philippe imagined they were discovered. But he was soon undeceived. The patrol, after vainly endeavouring to tighten his saddle-girths as he sat on the horse, attempted to dismount; but being short and round in figure, he could not well reach the ground from the stirrup, and the consequence was, he rolled down, and over and over in the snow like a ball.
‘Mort bleu!’ he exclaimed, as under the weight of his accoutrements he with difficulty scrambled on to his legs. ‘Pouf! every bone in my body is broken. Sacristie!—miserable beast! ”

“ Her head drooped, and her voice faltered as she spoke these words, so that they were almost inaudible; more so than the deep and weary sigh that followed them.
‘Die—sweetheart!’ cried the mountebank cheeringly, as he turned towards her, and raised her chin with his hand. ‘Die!—St. Benoit, who rules my fete day, prevent it! You must not die this half-century. Besides, although the doctors can’t yet find poisons in the stomach, like witches’ nails and pins, yet the stones can whisper, in Paris, all they hear. ”

“ Chavagnac has promised me my revenge at De Lauzun’s.’
‘You have rich jewels, too, about you,’ continued Exili, peering at him with a fearful expression. ‘The carcanet, I see, has been redeemed, and becomes you well. That diamond clasp is a fortune in itself.’
The gaze of the physician grew every moment more peculiar, as he gazed at Gaudin’s rich attire.
‘Beware!’ cried Sainte-Croix; ‘if you touch one, I will hew you down as I would a dog. Not one of them is mine. They belong to the Marchioness of Brinvilliers.’
‘Nay,’ replied Exili, changing his tone, ‘I did but admire them. ”

“ In the centre of the cemetery a tall obelisk arose, and on the summit of this, some fifteen feet from the ground, was a large lantern, from which a pale light gleamed over the abodes of the dead, throwing its rays sufficiently far to reveal a ghastly procession of corpses, of all ages and professions, painted on the walls and covered charnels in which the wealthier classes were interred who chose to carry their exclusiveness into the very grave. ”