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Updated: July 15, 2025
Francezka's face grew scarlet with wrath; she had never thought it worth while to forbid Jacques Haret her presence, never dreaming he would dare to face her. Had he been alone, or with any one but Gaston, I feel sure she would have ordered him from her presence, but to do that when he came by Gaston's invitation and in his company was more than even Francezka was prepared for.
This story, told with Francezka's dramatic fire, impressed me more than I would have admitted to her; and however wildly fanciful her idea was that Regnard's soul had got into Gaston's body, yet, had not I, myself, felt that strangeness she described toward the man I had lived with as a brother for more than seven years?
Francezka's face suddenly dimpled into smiles. The sun came out radiantly at that moment, and the grass and trees, diamond hung, glittered in the golden sheen of the morning. The earth seemed new-born; life and joy seemed new created. Francezka looked toward the château and waved her hands to Gaston, on his way to the stables. He turned and came toward her.
She was in her rooms, and sent word back that she was fatigued with the chase that day, and as she was to rehearse next day as well as act, she begged to be excused. When I heard this message repeated, I left the ball room, and going up the great spiral staircase, open to the moonlight which flooded the earth, stopped opposite Francezka's window.
"At least, Madame," I replied, "few wives have your cause of complaint." I noticed then some dissatisfaction in Francezka's face; the pursuit of pleasure, night and day, is bound to leave its marks on the strongest frame, and the best balanced nerves. I suspected Francezka was in the mood to find fault.
He did not smile until near the end. Count Saxe, raising his glass, drank to a pair of bright eyes in Brabant, at which the young man chose to smile; and after drinking the toast was suffered to depart with his treasure. Count Saxe not needing my services, I presently went to Gaston's room. He was seated at a rude table, with a single candle on it, devouring Francezka's letter.
The crown prince received her amiably, recalled their previous acquaintance at Radewitz, and repeated Count Saxe's compliments to Gaston Cheverny. At this, Francezka's face, which was a little pale, grew red with gratified pride. She asked the crown prince's assistance in publishing her rewards and making known Gaston's disappearance and he promised with a fine grace.
This had given her an exultant air, pretty and charming enough, but after all, what is so becoming to a woman as humility? And this sweet new humility of Francezka's was more winning than I can say. The whole expression of her lovely face had changed. Her eyes, instead of sparkling like stars, were soft, and had the quiet beauty of a lake by moonlight. They had a supplicating look.
I had not before noticed the behavior of Gaston and the dog to each other, but now I observed that when Gaston approached, Bold exhibited an active dislike toward his former master. His bristles rose, he showed his teeth, and in spite of Francezka's command, and even entreaty, he trotted off and would not return.
We turned a corner, which gave me a clear look through the garden of the room we had just left. Gaston was standing stock still, holding the scrap of paper in his hand. He knew then who the masked visitors were. I walked by the side of Francezka's chair, through the dark streets until we came to the Hôtel Kirkpatrick. Madame Villars lived close by, and we parted with her first.
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