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The aged coquette was Madame, the Marchioness, who, for the time being, was engaged in knitting a strip of green wool. She turned toward her visitor just enough to show him the rouge on one cheek, and then, as he seemed rather frightened a fact flattering to her vanity she spoke in an affable tone. "Ah, well young man," said she, "what brings you here?"
I think you told me she was only on a visit here." "A pretty long visit, though, for a sister-in-law, if sister-in-law she be. As I was saying to the Marchioness the other day, when Mrs. Felix offended her so violently by trampling on the dear little Julie, if it came into a court of justice I should like to see the proof; that's all. At any rate, it is pretty evident that Mr.
"Perhaps women don't realize that though they can easily get rid of an unsatisfactory husband, it will be just as easy for a satisfactory husband to get rid of them." But Mrs. Bradford did not care for abstract questions. "I expect the Marchioness will have the custody of the children," she said.
In short, the Marchioness de Fleury is an animated fashion-plate! a lay-figure dressed in gauze, silk, lace, ribbon, feathers, flowers, that breathes, talks, dances, waltzes! a mantua-maker's, milliner's, hair-dresser's puppet, set in motion, not a woman." "Has she really no heart, then?" questioned Bertha.
Were she ten times a Marchioness, next to her husband her care would be due to him. What daughter had ever been beloved more tenderly than she? Administer to him! Oh yes, she would do that as she had always done. She rushed into his arms in the little parlour and then burst into tears. "My girl," he said, "I congratulate you." "No; no, no." "Yes, yes, yes.
In a little time the work became a wondrous farrago, in which Konigsmark the robber figured by the side of Sam Lynn, and the Marchioness de Brinvilliers was placed in contact with a Chinese outlaw.
"In the meantime, the Marchioness appeared sullen, proud, and unforgiving: she seldom came near her husband, but sometimes spent the day in crying and lamenting herself, and sometimes in looking over the few things which she had brought with her from Paris.
But Clarence's quick eye discovered instantly that he was no welcome intruder, and that his day with the beautiful marchioness was over. His visit, consequently, was short and embarrassed. When he left the box, he heard Lord Borodaile's short, slow, sneering laugh, followed by Lady Westborough's "hush" of reproof. His blood boiled.
If you were guilty, I should love you still; and you are innocent." Jacques breathed more freely. In his mother's voice he felt that she, at least, was sure of him. "And father?" he asked. There was a faint blush on the pale cheeks of the marchioness. "I shall see him to-morrow," she replied; "for I leave to-night with M. Folgat." "What! In this state of weakness?" "I must."
As the marchioness in her verses had made a pompous enumeration of every physical and moral quality of his eminence, it was of course natural that he should return the compliment, and here my task was easy.
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