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Updated: May 3, 2025
But you can see through it all the awful sorrow that weighs upon her heart, you can see she has lost something she can never find again, her eyes look so wistful her smile is so sad poor Angela!" Aubrey was silent a moment. "What of the Princesse D'Agramont?" "Oh, she is simply a treasure!" said Sylvie enthusiastically "She and my dear old Bozier are never weary in well-doing!
You were not made for sorrow!" "Dear Katrine, we were all made for sorrow," said Sylvie slowly, "Sorrow is good for us. And perhaps I have not had sufficient of it to make me strong. And this is real sorrow to me, to refuse Fontenelle!" "But why refuse him if you love him?" asked Madame Bozier bewildered. Sylvie sat down beside her, and put one soft arm caressingly round her neck.
He drew her into his arms and looked at her fondly. "I want you to start for England soon, Sylvie and if possible, I should like you to go, not only with the faithful Bozier, but also in the care of the Cardinal. I will precede you by some days, and arrange everything for your reception. And then we will be married in MY way!"
Ah, what useless tears I have shed about it, how I have grieved and worried myself all in vain! and now . . ." "Now he asks you to marry him," said Madame Bozier gently, "And you think it would be no use? You could not perhaps make him a better man?" "Neither I nor any woman could!" said Sylvie, "I do not believe very much in 'reforming' men, Katrine.
"Yes I confess I did think that if I separated myself altogether from him it might induce him to put himself in a more honourable position with me but I did not know then " she paused, and a deep flush crimsoned her cheeks. "Did not know what?" queried Madame Bozier softly. Sylvie hesitated a moment, then spoke out bravely.
Madame Bozier followed her as she stepped back into the lighted salon, where she was suddenly met by her little Arab page, carrying a large cluster of exquisite red and white roses. A card was attached to the flowers, bearing the words, "These many unworthy blossoms in return for one beyond all worth." The Comtesse read and passed it in silence to Madame Bozier.
Then I had to work again for my living, and it was by answering an advertisement in the Times, which applied for an English governess to go to a family in Budapest, that I first came to know you." "And that is all your history!" said Sylvie, "Poor dear Bozier! How uneventful!" "Yes, it is," and the worthy lady sighed also, but hers, was a sigh of placid arid philosophical comfort.
A few minutes' more conversation, then a hurried consultation with Madame Bozier, and Sylvie, changing her lace gown for a simple travelling dress, walked out of the Casa D'Angeli with the faithful Katrine, and taking the first carriage she could find, was driven to the Palazzo where the Princesse D'Agramont had her apartments.
Next morning at the American Consulate, Sylvie, Comtesse Hermenstein, was quietly married by civil law to Aubrey Leigh. The ceremony took place in the presence of the Princesse D'Agramont, Madame Bozier, and Cyrillon Vergniaud. When it was over the wedded lovers and their friends returned to the Sovrani Palace, there to join Angela who had come down from her sick room to grace the occasion.
Sylvie uttered a low cry and covered her face with her hands. "Miraudin!" exclaimed Madame Bozier in horrified tones. "Miraudin! Is he killed also?" "Yes, Madame! Both shots must have been fired with deadly aim. They had no seconds. Miraudin had hired a common fiacre to escape in from the city, and the police will offer a reward for the discovery of the driver.
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