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Updated: May 10, 2025
Barbesieur's great chest heaved with fury, as he felt himself in the grasp of his puny antagonist, and turning met the glance of the son of Olympia de Soissons. For a few moments no word was spoken. The two enemies exchanged glances; while princes, dukes, counts, and their followers, looked on with breathless interest and expectation.
He is all this but what are his recommendations to me? I do not love him! More than that, he is the friend of Barbesieur, and therefore I dislike him. The match, too, is of Barbesieur's making: he it was that influenced my father to consent to it. I have already declared that, sooner than marry the marquis, I will take the veil.
Barbesieur then, emphasizing each word, replied: "I found a parchment on which were inscribed these words: 'Receipt for procuring death by inhalation. Queen Katherina de Medicis." "That is it, that is it," howled Strozzi, and in his ecstasy he flung his arms around Barbesieur's great body.
"Strozzi, you are mistaken," exclaimed Barbesieur, with an authoritative gesture. "Mark my words, and believe them, or I shall be very angry. The Marchioness Laura is not dead. She lives here on earth, not far away from you." "She lives!" repeated Strozzi, starting from his seat and falling at Barbesieur's feet. "Tell me where she is. Let me go, let me go, and bring her home. Come come with me!"
"Show me the way," said the countess, following the man to the farther end of the long corridor. "Here, my lady," said he, pausing, "is his anteroom." "Go in and announce me." The valet opened the door and crossed the antechamber. It was empty; for Barbesieur's valet was, with the other servants, in the vestibule, discussing the mysteries of the evening.
"Something not at all uncommon he was killed." Laura turned quickly around and caught the diabolical glance of Barbesieur's eyes. "I I do not believe it," murmured she. "Did you say that you had the original letter from the Marquis?" asked Strozzi, eagerly. "Yes, here it is; the marchioness can see for herself." Laura took the paper and glanced hurriedly over its contents.
"Ay, that's it!" cried Barbesieur, cheerily, "that's it. He must die; and when he is dead, Laura will love the Marquis de Strozzi." "You think so?" asked Strozzi, laying his tremulous hand upon Barbesieur's, great firm arm. "I know it. The very moment Prince Eugene dies, Laura's heart is yours." "He must die!
Come- -let us leave this hopeful widow to herself." "I come," replied Strozzi, "for you must take some refreshment before you go. Until the hour of dinner I take my leave, marchioness." "Marquis," said Laura, following him to the door. Strozzi dropped Barbesieur's arm, and returned to her at once. "You have something to command?" said he, humbly. "I do not wish to dine to-day," said she.
He must die!" murmured Strozzi, clasping his attenuated fingers, and looking imploringly into Barbesieur's face. "Ay, that must he, and you are the man that shall take his life. Your honor demands it of you." "Yes, my honor," repeated Strozzi, "my honor. I thank you, sir, for your goodness to me. You are the first person that ever advised me to avenge myself on Eugene of Savoy.
"Part us he shall not!" exclaimed Eugene, passionately, while he flung his arm around the maiden's slender waist, and pressed her wildly to his heart. "Thou art Louvois' daughter, but my betrothed." "I am Barbesieur's sister, but thou art my affianced!" "Neither daughter nor sister of any man, my Laura; thou art thyself- -and being thyself mine."
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