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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Come, Marchioness de Bonaletta, I must present you to the queen." "Ah!" thought Eugene, as he took up his position in the window again, "if I may not follow her, at least I know her name! Marchioness Bonaletta what a pretty name it is! I have never heard it before, nor have I ever seen any thing that reminded me of her lovely person. 'Tis plain that she is a stranger at this corrupt court.
The duke, on his side, out of gratitude to his new friend, has created him prime minister an appointment which is very popular in Savoy for there is not a worthier man in the dukedom than the Marquis de Bonaletta." At sound of this name, Eugene started up, and leaning his head upon his hand, prepared to listen.
'Tis but meet that she make a present to her brother on her wedding-day. So, then, we understand each other: immediately after the ceremony of your marriage, you make out a deed by which you relinquish to me the usufruct of the Bonaletta estates in Savoy for life. Who gets them after me, I care not." "I consent; and add thereunto a yearly pension of one thousand ducats. Does that content you?"
"Your royal highness has anticipated my wishes," was the reply. "I am anxious to dance, and crave your permission to offer my hand to the Marchioness de Bonaletta." "I regret to disoblige you," answered the duchess, "but you see that she is on duty, and etiquette forbids her to leave her post, except for two dances. His majesty has had the first, and for the second she is engaged."
But the covetous relations would not let me lay a finger on Laura's estates, without your written authorization. That brought me hurriedly to Paris. I want it at once, that I may return to Bonaletta to-day." "You must remain for a while longer," said Louvois. "And why, pray?" "Because you must at least wait until my funeral is over," replied the unhappy father. Barbesieur began to laugh.
Antonio sank on his knees, the mask dropped from his face, and his pale, suffering countenance wore any aspect but that of treachery. "In the name of the Marchioness Laura Bonaletta, hear me," said he, imploringly. "Laura Bonaletta!" echoed Eugene, in a voice of piercing anguish. "What can such as you know of Laura Bonaletta?"
"Sire." resumed the duchess, "the woman so foully murdered by the tool of her father and her brother, she, whom I loved so dearly, and whom your majesty's self honored by your attention, was Laura Bonaletta the daughter of Monsieur Louvois, and the sister of his depraved son Barbesieur."
Or, if you had believed me, you might have remained in Venice, and you must, fly this very night this very hour. Until you are safe, Strozzi must believe that you are his prisoner." "Am I, then, forever doomed to turn my back upon this man?" "My lord, my lord, no vain scruples! The Marchioness Bonaletta will die if you do not live to rescue her from his tyranny." Eugene grasped his arm.
"I shall stay until she forgets Prince Eugene, and loves me." "I wish you joy; meanwhile I shall await your bulletins at my delightful residence your generous gift. I must remain until the arrival of my father's couriers; and, having seen them off with the glad tidings of my fair sister's flourishing condition, I will be off for Bonaletta. I wonder which of us two she hates the more?
"I wanted to ask if your highness has news from the Marchioness de Bonaletta?" resumed he, with an effort. "Yes," replied the duchess, mournfully. "Has she written to you?" was the hurried rejoinder. The duchess shook her head. "She has not, and thereby I judge that she is closely watched. For, if my darling were free to do so, she would long ago have poured her sorrows into my heart.
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