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Updated: June 8, 2025
The bones of contention may be pitched far and wide by the chances and changes of exile, but the contending dogs bark and yap in Paris. At this time there lived, sometimes in Italy, sometimes at Frohsdorf, a jovial young gentleman, fond of sport and society, cultivating the tastes and enjoying the easy existence of a country-gentleman of princely rank the Comte de Chambord.
There were plenty of Bourbons, it seemed. And now where are they? What is left of them?" He gave a nod of the head toward the sea that lay between him and Germany. "One old woman, over there, at Frohsdorf, the daughter of Marie Antoinette, awaiting the end of her bitter pilgrimage and this Comte de Chambord. This man who will not when he may.
We must not awake her sleeping sorrow until all is ready. I shall make the journey to Frohsdorf that I promise you. But to-night we have another task before us." "Yes yes," answered his listeners. "You are to open the locket. Where is it? show it to us." And the locket which Captain Clubbe's wife had given to Dormer Colville was handed from one to another.
"And the Duchess?" said the Englishman at length, after a pause, "at Frohsdorf what does she say or think?" "She says nothing," replied the Marquis de Gemosac, sharply. "She is silent, because the world is listening for every word she may utter. What she thinks.... Ah! who knows? She is an old woman, my friend, for she is seventy-one. Her memories are a millstone about her neck.
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