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Updated: July 19, 2025
"You are right so much the worse for her!" said Fleur-de-Marie, with bitterness. "She is your butt; she ought to be resigned to it; her groans amuse you, her tears make you laugh. You must pass the time in some way; if you should kill her on the spot, she has no right to say anything.
When I left him he was sobbing; and I said to myself, furious at my stupidity, 'If this is the way I cheer and console him, it is hardly worth while to go and see him; I, who promised myself to make him laugh! It is astonishing how I have succeeded!" At the name of Francois Germain, Mrs. Seraphin redoubled her attention. "And what has this young man done to be in prison?" asked Fleur-de-Marie.
All this had passed a thousand times more rapidly than it is possible to write it, at some steps from the wine shop whence had issued Skeleton and his band. The prince, pale and agitated, supported the fainting Fleur-de-Marie in his arms, while the postilions readjusted the traces, which had been injured. "Quick!" said the prince to his people, who were occupied in assisting the Slasher.
In a word, Fleur-de-Marie, learning that she was Rudolph's daughter, could have at once accounted for her feelings toward him; then, completely enlightened, she could admire without any scruple the beauty of her father. Thus is explained the dejectedness of Fleur-de-Marie, although she expected at any moment to leave Saint Lazare.
Yes, as Fleur-de-Marie spoke, La Louve had yearned to be an indefatigable housekeeper, an honest wife, a pious and devoted mother.
He had, therefore, caused to be written to Bradamanti a note to summon him to come and hatch some new schemes, of which Fleur-de-Marie was to be the victim.
From this moment, Fleur-de-Marie was struck with one of those presentiments which often have, on characters like hers, an irresistible influence. A short time after these sad events, Rudolph and his daughter had left Paris forever. "OLDENZAAL, August 23d, 1841. I have just returned from Gerolstein, where I passed three months with the grand duke and his family.
"That is true," repeated La Louve, mechanically, who, forgetting more and more the reality, believed almost that she saw displayed before her eyes the smiling pictures described by the poetic imagination of Fleur-de-Marie, instinctively a lover of the beauties of nature.
Hardly had she perceived Fleur-de-Marie, than she cried, running toward her and pressing her in her arms: "Poor dear child! I see you again. Ah! saved! saved miraculously from a horrible death! With what happiness I find you I, who, as well as your friends, thought you were lost forever!"
"My child," said Clemence, "in praising much the sweetness of your disposition and the exemplary propriety of your conduct, Madame Armand complains of your want of confidence in her." Fleur-de-Marie held down her head without replying.
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