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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Dear Abbe Foucquet," said Juliette after a while, "his is the kind of devotion which I feel sure will never be found under the new regimes of anarchy and of so-called equality. He would have laid down his life for my father or for me. And I know that he would never part with the jewels which I entrusted to his care, whilst he had breath and strength to defend them."
The Angelus would be the signal for the opening of all the prison gates in the town. Everyone to-night could come and go as they pleased, and having rung the Angelus, the abbe would be at liberty to join Francois and Felicite and their old mother, his sister, outside the purlieus of the town. The Abbe Foucquet did not quite understand all this, which was very rapidly and roughly explained to him.
But, on leaving, Louis said coldly, "We shall scarce dare ask you to our poor palace, seeing the superior luxury to which you are accustomed." A fearful cut, but only a straw to the fate which followed, the investigations into the affairs of Superintendent Foucquet.
Outside the precincts of the town they met my Lord Everingham and Sir Philip Glynde, who had met the Abbe Foucquet outside his little church and escorted him safely out of the city, whilst Francois and Felicite with their old mother had been under the charge of other members of the League.
"A matter of expediency, Lady Blakeney," he explained, "and I trust that the change will be for your comfort." Again the same curt nod of acquiescence on her part, and a brief: "As you command, Monsieur!" But when he had gone, she turned with a sudden passionate outburst towards the Abbe Foucquet, her faithful companion through the past long, weary hours.
That public crier is a long way off: the words have lingered on the evening breeze and have failed to reach your brain. Do you suppose that I and my colleagues do not know that all the ingenuity of which the Scarlet Pimpernel is capable will now be directed in piloting Lady Blakeney, and incidentally the Abbe Foucquet with his nephew and niece, safely across the Channel!
Dead silence followed this announcement. Hope was just beginning to crowd anxiety and sullenness out of the way. "Then poor Andre Legrand will be pardoned," whispered a voice suddenly; "he was to have been guillotined to-day." "And Denise Latour! she was innocent enough, the gentle pigeon." "And they'll let poor Abbe Foucquet out of prison too." "And Francois!" "And poor Felicite, who is blind!"
"Your ladyship is a precious hostage. We are taking measures to guard our valuable property securely." Marguerite thought of the Abbe Foucquet, who no doubt was still quietly telling his beads, even if in his heart he had begun to wonder what had become of her. She thought of Francois, who was the breadwinner, and of Felicite, who was blind.
It may easily have been that Louis XIV discovered on that day at Vaux the excellence of Lebrun whom he made director at the Gobelins in Paris when they were but newly formed. Foucquet, wasting in prison, had many hours in which to think on this and on the advancement of the very man who had been keenest in running him to cover, the great Colbert.
It is impossible in a short space to comment to any adequate extent upon the work of such eminent artists as Jean Foucquet, Don Giulio Clovio, Sano di Pietro, and Liberale da Verona; they were technically at the head of their art, and yet, so far as taste in book decoration is to be considered, their work would be more satisfactory as framed miniatures than as marginal or paginal ornament.
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