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Updated: June 16, 2025
Therefore when Candeille paused after those last excited words, she said with more gentleness than she had shown hitherto, though still quite coldly: "But you have not yet told me why you came back here to-night? If Citizen Chauvelin was your taskmaster, then you must know all that has occurred." "I had a vague hope that I might see you." "For what purpose?" "To warn you if I could."
The women said that Demoiselle Candeille never left a man alone until she had succeeded in captivating his fancy if only for five minutes; an internal in a dance... the time to cross a muddy road. But for five minutes she was determined to hold any man's complete attention, and to exact his admiration. And she nearly always succeeded. Therefore the women hated her. The men were amused.
"What is that to you?" replied Marguerite haughtily. "I pray you do not misunderstand me..." pleaded Candeille eagerly.
She trusted to her own powers of intrigue, and her well-known fascinations, to re-conquer the friendship of the Jacobin clique, and she once more turned her attention to the affiliated Socialistic clubs of England. But between the proverbial two stools, Demoiselle Candeille soon came to the ground.
It was quite clear that a chamber-concert select and attractive as were all Lady Blakeney's entertainments was in contemplation. Marguerite herself, released for a moment from her constant duties near her royal guests, had strolled through the smaller rooms, accompanied by Juliette, in order to search for Mademoiselle Candeille and to suggest the commencement of the improvised concert.
I try not to forget it," rejoined Candeille lightly, "but of a truth you must admit, Citizeness, that it would require the patience of a saint to put up with the insolence of a penniless baggage, who but lately has had to stand her trial in her own country for impurity of conduct."
"Sh-sh-sh..." whispered Candeille eagerly, as she approached quite close to Marguerite and drew her hood still lower over her eyes. "I am all alone ... I wanted to see someone you if possible, Lady Blakeney... for I could not rest... I wanted to know what had happened." "What had happened? When? I don't understand." "What happened between Citizen Chauvelin and your husband?" asked Candeille.
"A woman name unknown found in possession of a forged passport in the name of Celine Dumont, maid to the Citizeness Desiree Candeille attempted to land was interrogated and failed to give satisfactory explanation of herself detained in room No. 6 of the Gayole prison." This was one of the last names on the list, the only one of any importance to Citizen Chauvelin.
She did not interrupt Candeille's long and voluble explanation: vaguely she wondered what it was all about, and even now when the Frenchwoman paused, Marguerite said nothing, but watched her quietly as she took a folded paper from the capacious pocked of her cloak and then held it out with a look of timidity towards Lady Blakeney. "My maid need not come with me," said Desiree Candeille humbly.
But she had it by her, quite in order, given to her in a fit of tardy remorse by Demoiselle Candeille, the intimate friend of one of the most influential members of the Revolutionary Government of France. She took the passport from the bosom of her dress and handed it to the man in the official dress. "Your name?" he asked peremptorily.
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