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Updated: May 15, 2025
"What a singular concurrence of circumstances!" said Madame d'Harville, with astonishment. "This is not all. In a corner of this letter, found in the old secretary were these words, 'Write to Madame de Lucenay."
"I remember the name. The name of my own daughter! It seems to me a motive the more to interest me in their misfortunes." "I forgot to tell you that the brother of this widow committed suicide some months ago." "If Madame de Lucenay knows this family," said Madame d'Harville, "such information will suffice to bring them to her mind. How desirous I am of going to see her.
"But once more, sir, you cannot make me believe that it so difficult to procure one hundred thousand francs in two hours." "Then, madame, apply to your own notary, to your steward; with me, it is impossible." "I have reasons, sir, to keep this a secret," said Madame de Lucenay, heartily. "You know the rogues who wish to rob M. de Saint Remy; it is on this account I address myself to you."
Lucenay, having lighted a cigar, followed the marquis into his chamber. "Here are some splendid guns, truly; faith, I do not know which to prefer, the French or the English." "Douglas," cried Lucenay, "come and see if these guns will not compare with the best Mantons." Lord Douglas, Saint Remy, and the two other guests entered the chamber of the marquis to examine the arms.
"You'll end by pulling that picture on your head." "That's true, by Jove! you have the eye of an eagle. But your surprise, what is it?" "I have sent for some friends to breakfast with us." "Ah, good! marquis, bravo! bravissimo! archibravissimo!" screamed Lucenay, striking heavy blows on the sofa cushions. "And whom shall we have?" "Saint Remy." "No; he has been in the country for some days."
In fact, the gross insolence of the notary, in wounding her to the quick, had forced Madame de Lucenay, to quit the humble and imploring part that she had at first assumed with much trouble; returned to her own dignity, she believed it to be beneath her to descend to the least concealment with this scribbler of deeds.
With a man as resolute as he was energetic, such a state of dejection was more alarming than the most furious bursts of rage. Madame de Lucenay looked at him with much anxiety. "Courage, my friend," said she to him, in a low tone, "for you, for me, for this man I know what remains for me to do."
"I am ignorant, madame, but M. de Lucenay has information for you, he says, as sad, as it was unforeseen. He learned at his wife's that you were here and he came in all haste." "Sad news!" said Madame d'Harville. Then suddenly she cried in a heart-rending tone, "My daughter-my child, perhaps! Oh, speak, madame!" "I am ignorant, madame."
Nothing could be, indeed, more graceful and more majestic than the face and bearing of Madame de Lucenay; yet she was then over thirty years of age, with a pale face, appearing slightly fatigued; but she had large sparkling brown eyes, splendid black hair, a fine arched nose, a proud and ruby lip, dazzling complexion, very white teeth, tall and slender figure, a form like a "goddess on the clouds," as the immortal St.
"Ah! yes, this beautiful whim to attach yourself to the legation of France at Gerolstein. None of your nonsense and stuff about diplomacy; you will never go there. My wife says so, and everybody repeats it." "I assure you that Madame de Lucenay is mistaken, like every one else." "She told you before me that it was a folly!" "I have committed so many in my lifetime!"
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