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Updated: June 18, 2025
Thank God for it! Well, I must take to my bed. I am very ill. I have a fever on me, and that's truth." She moved towards the door, but before she had reached it there came a knocking on the street door below. Clementina stopped; Chateaudoux looked out of the window. "It is the Prince's carriage," said he. "I will not see him," exclaimed Clementina.
"Your Highness teaches a lesson to soldiers; for there is never a knapsack but can hold this and still have half its space to spare. The front door is unlatched?" "M. Chateaudoux is watching in the hall." "And the hall's unlighted?" "Yes." "Jenny should be here in a minute, and before she comes I must tell you she does not know the importance of our undertaking. She is the servant to Mrs.
The door was left ajar behind them, and Wogan in the hall saw Chateaudoux speak with the sentinel, saw the sentinel run hurriedly to Clementina, saw Clementina disappear into the snow. Chateaudoux ran back into the hall. "And you!" he asked, as he barred and locked the door. "The magistrate is coming. I saw the lights of the guard across the avenue."
It was time that she consented, for even as Wogan flung himself upon his knee and raised her hand, M. Chateaudoux appeared at the door with a finger on his lips, and behind him one could hear a voice grumbling and cursing on the stairs. "Jenny," said Wogan, and Jenny stumbled into the room. "Quiet," said he; "you will wake the house."
However, he proceeded along the arcades to the cathedral, which he entered; and just as the clock struck half-past three, in a dark corner opposite to the third of the great statues he drew his handkerchief from his pocket. The handkerchief flipped out a letter which fell onto the ground. In the gloom it was barely visible; and M. Chateaudoux walked on, apparently unconscious of his loss.
He explained in delicate hints that he himself was to bribe the sentry at the door to let her pass for a few moments into the house. The Princess broke into a laugh. "Her name is Friederika, I'll warrant," she cried. "My poor Chateaudoux, they will give you a sweetheart. It is most cruel. Well, Friederika, thanks to the sentry's fellow-feeling for a burning heart, Friederika slips in at the door."
"I was stopped in my walk," said he, "but not by the Chevalier Wogan. Who it was I do not know." "Can you not guess?" cried Clementina. "I would not trust a stranger," said her mother. "Would you not?" asked Clementina, with a smile. "Describe him to me." "His face was wrinkled," said Chateaudoux. "It was disguised." "His figure was slight and not over-tall."
M. Chateaudoux, the chamberlain, was a little portly person with a round, red face like a cherub's. He was a creature of the house, one that walked with delicate steps, a conductor of ceremonies, an expert in the subtleties of etiquette; and once he held his wand of office in his hand, there was nowhere to be found a being so precise and consequential.
"I want nothing," he said, "nothing in the world;" and he repeated the statement in order to drown the other's voice. "A purse, good gentleman," persisted the hawker, and he dangled one before Chateaudoux's eyes. Not for anything would Chateaudoux take that purse. "Go away," he cried; "I have a sufficiency of purses, and I will not be plagued by you."
Chateaudoux could feel within the purse a folded paper. He was committed now without a doubt, and in an extreme alarm he flung a coin into the roadway and got him into the house. The sentinel carelessly dropped the butt of his musket on the coin. "Go," said he, and with a sudden kick he lifted the hawker half across the road.
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