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I had spent the day in the country with one of my friends, Gaston R . We returned to Paris in the evening, and not knowing what to do we went to the Varietes. We went out during one of the entr'actes, and a tall woman passed us in the corridor, to whom my friend bowed. "Whom are you bowing to?" I asked. "Marguerite Gautier," he said.
"My sister," she said, "came to the foot of the stairs to receive his Majesty," this was of course the beautiful stairway of Francis I, which bears the lovely sculptured figures of Diane de Poitiers and other beauties of the time; but alas, the little Princess Marguerite had been stung by certain flies called gnats which quite spoiled her beautiful complexion, and, adds the frank sister, "made her look quite an object."
Left alone with his mistress, Alain fell into a great embarrassment. Marguerite, for her part, felt a qualm of conscience, had he only known it. But her amour-propre was, none the less, extremely hurt by his cavalier treatment of her flowers.
Marguerite was getting horribly tired, her feet ached and she scarcely could hold herself upright: yet she watched all these people mechanically, making absurd little guesses in her weary mind as to whose passport would find favour in the eyes of the official, and whose would be found suspect and inadequate.
He bent over to look into her eyes, and found them fixed and lustreless. "Marguerite!" he exclaimed. She tried to speak, but the teeth seemed to hinder the escape of her words, and to break them into bits of sound; a shiver shook her from head to foot. "I wonder if this is fear," she succeeded in saying. "Oh, if there were somewhere to go, something to hide me! A great horror is upon me!
If I do not now succeed, I will give myself up to you; I will obey you as you are bound to obey me; I will do your will; you shall take charge of all my property; I will no longer be the guardian of my children; I pledge myself to lay down my authority. I swear by your mother's memory!" he cried, shedding tears. Marguerite turned away her head, unable to bear the sight.
On the occasion of Mr. Heath's last visit to this place, Marguerite drew attention to a coin whose history you heard, and the other half of which Mrs. Purcell wore. Mr. Heath obtained the fragment he possessed through my wife's aunt, Susanne Le Blanc; Mrs. Purcell obtained hers through her grandmother, Susan White.
Crossing Piccadilly Circus he had a glimpse of the rising walls and the scaffolding of the new restaurant. He pointed to the building without a word. She nodded and smiled. In the Mall, where the red campanile of the cathedral was first descried, George began to get excited. And he perceived that Marguerite sympathetically responded to his excitement.
"Adieu for the present, dear Hubert," said the latter, on seeing Lord Melrose advancing to claim her for the next waltz. "Ah, my fear truant, you have given me a world of anxiety. Why do you persist in such delightful methods of torture." "Torture! Lord Melrose!" exclaimed the lady with an air of arch coquetry. Meanwhile Marguerite Verne sat in the quiet of her own apartment.
New cares and new loves at length engrossed the heart where Gabrielle had for a few brief years so supremely reigned. The utterly profligate Marguerite, now that Gabrielle was dead, whom she of course hated, was perfectly willing to assent to a divorce.
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