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Updated: June 10, 2025
One cold dark afternoon however, as he thus paced to and fro, he saw the Princesse D'Agramont at a window beckoning him, and with a sickening terror at his heart, he obeyed the signal. "I wish you would come and talk to her!" said the Princesse as she greeted him, with tears in her bright eyes. "She must be roused from this apathy. I can do nothing with her.
"I think so," she answered, "I may wait to see Angela's great picture, but " "Do not hurry your departure," said Aubrey, speaking in a softer tone "Tell me may I come and see you this evening, just for a few moments?" His eyes rested on her tenderly, and at the passion of his glance her own fell. "If you like yes," she murmured. And just then the Princesse D'Agramont approached.
She was talking to the Princesse D'Agramont, who with her brilliant dark beauty could afford to confess ungrudgingly the charm of a woman so spirituelle as Sylvie, and who, between various careless nods and smiles to her acquaintance, was detailing to her with much animation the account of her visit to the Marquis Fontenelle before leaving Paris.
"Better to leave Rome!" he said to himself, "Better to shake off the witchery of her presence, and get back to England and to work. And if I cannot kill or quell this love in me, at any rate it shall serve me to good purpose, it shall make me a better and a braver man!" He had promised to meet the Princesse D'Agramont that morning at the Catacombs of St.
Hour after hour, she lay on a couch, silent and motionless, her large eyes fixed on vacancy, her little white hands clasped close together as though in a very extremity of bodily and mental anguish, and the Princesse D'Agramont, who watched her and tended her with the utmost devotion, was often afraid that all her care would be of no avail, and that her patient would slip through her hands into the next world before she had time to even attempt to save her.
She was of far too dignified and proud a nature to allow her sense of outrage and wrong to be made public, and though she never again lived with D'Agramont as his wife, she carried herself through all her duties as mistress of the household and hostess of his guests, with a brave bright gaiety, which deceived even the closest observer, and the gossips of Paris used to declare that she did not know the extent of her husband's follies.
St. Cecilia herself might have been enraptured by such sweet harmony, and Aubrey Leigh instinctively bent his head, moved strongly by the holy and tender fervour of the anthem. Growing accustomed to the flickering lights, he presently perceived the Princesse D'Agramont a little in front of him, and beside her were her two friends, Angela Sovrani and Sylvie Hermenstein.
And the excitement over the great picture became more and more intense especially when it was known that it would soon be taken away from Rome never to be seen there again. Angela herself knew little of her rapidly extending fame, she was in Paris with the Princesse D'Agramont who had taken her there immediately after Monsignor Gherardi's visit to her father.
"Why must you be going?" asked Varillo cheerily, "Why not stay and dine with my future father-in-law, and Angela, and the eminent Cardinal? We shall all be charmed!" "Thanks, no! I have letters to write to England . . ." "Good-bye!" said the Comtesse Hermenstein at this juncture, "I am going to drive the Princesse D'Agramont round the Pincio, will you join us, Mr. Leigh?
So unselfish in their demands so tender and careful of a woman's feelings! Pouf! Cher ami! you forget! I was the wife of the late Prince D'Agramont!" "That explains a great many of your moods certainly," said the Marquis smiling. "Does it not? Le beau Louis! romantic Louis! poet Louis! musician Louis!
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