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Updated: June 13, 2025
Scandal, however, secured the attention of many of the people seated in the cafes, for the Rappel Victor Hugo's organ had that day printed a letter addressed to Napoleon III by his mistress Marguerite Bellenger, who admitted in it that she had deceived her imperial lover with respect to the paternity of her child.
"The poor prince, you say?" "We never had a fitting allowance, monsieur," Bellenger declared aggressively. "Yet with little or no means I tried to bring this pretender to justice and defend his Majesty's throne." "Pensioners are not often so outspoken in their dissatisfaction," remarked the priest. I laughed as I thought of the shifts to which Bellenger must have been put.
"I don't understand," said Madame de Ferrier, leaning forward on her arms, "why Bellenger had you in London, and another boy on the mountain." "Perhaps we shall never understand it." "I don't understand why he makes it his business to follow you." "Let us not trouble ourselves about Bellenger." "But are you safe in France since the Marquis du Plessy's death?" "I am safe to-night, at least."
I supposed I had nothing to do but present my credentials. Here was another idiot I crave your majesty's pardon " "Quite right at the time, Bellenger." "drawing the annuity intended for the dauphin. I inquired into his rights. The agent showed me papers like my own. I asked who presented them. He knew no more of the man than he did of me. I demanded to face the man. No such person could be found.
"Because the dauphin who died in the Temple prison was Louis XVII. But there are a few who say he did not die: that a dying child was substituted for him: that he was smuggled out and carried to America, Bellenger was the agent employed. The dauphin's sister is married to her cousin, the nephew of Monsieur.
The Marquis du Plessy drew himself together with a strong shudder. I had the desire to stand between him and the shocks of an alien world. Yet there was about him a tenacious masculine strength, an adroitness of self-protection which needed no champion. "Did the Indian tell you about a man named Bellenger?" I inquired. "Bellenger is part of the old story about the dauphin's removal.
That poor creature, astonished by his environment, gazed at the high room corners, or smiled experimentally at the courtiers, stretching his cracked lips over darkened fangs. "You are admitted here, Bellenger," said the priest, "to answer his Majesty's questions in the presence of witnesses." "I thank his Majesty," said Bellenger.
Pélagie, and doubtless dropped me in the Seine, ready to do me more mischief, smug and smooth shaven, and fine in the red-collared blue coat which seemed to be the prescribed uniform of that court, all my confidence returned. I was Louis of France. I could laugh at anything he had to say. Behind him entered a priest, who advanced up the room, and made obeisance to the king, as Bellenger did.
Bellenger shrugged, and waved his hands. "You admit that he is?" "I admit nothing, monsieur. These are days in which we save our heads as well as we can, and admit nothing." "If we had never seen the dauphin we should infer that this is no common child you are carrying away so secretly, bound by so many pledges. A man like you, trusted with an important mission, naturally magnifies it.
Major Frey and Colonel Bellenger fell under their horses, Colonel Seeber dropped dead into the ravine, Captain Graves was dragged from the ranks and butchered by bayonets; but those stubborn Palatines calmly divided into squads, and their steady fusillade stopped the rush of the Royal Greens and sent the flanking savages howling to cover.
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