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Francis I. cared little for printed books in comparison with manuscript rarities; he added very few to the collection at Fontainebleau beyond what he received as presents from his mother, Queen Louise, and his sister Marguerite d'Angoulême.
There is no time to be lost. If the sentries challenge you, heed them not, but speed on for your life." "And you!" cried Marguerite; "you cannot follow in your moccasins only, and in that dress you must be seen, and may be fired upon." "Fear not for me, madame," was the prompt reply.
I remember that her inclination for the Count showed itself at first in a very strange way. She told me she used to have the most vivid and delightful dreams of him nearly every night." "Exactly," said Dagobert. "Marguerite told me that, by the Count's directions, she used to sit whole nights by Angelica's bedside, breathing the Count's name into her ear very, very softly.
Prince had known of the affair before himself. He was more than jealous; he had a greater grievance. Marguerite appeared to have forgotten all about love, all about the mighty event of their betrothal. She appeared to have put it away, as casually as she had put away the tray. Yet ought not the event to count supreme over everything else over no matter what? He was desolate and unhappy.
In a short while mirth had reached its last limit, and the words that seem funny to a certain class of people, words that degrade the mouth that utters them, were heard from time to time, amidst the applause of Nanine, of Prudence, and of Marguerite. Gaston was thoroughly amused; he was a very good sort of fellow, but somewhat spoiled by the habits of his youth.
Marguerite, even while she indulged in the most unblushing licentiousness, was, as we have already stated, devoted to the observances of her religion; and on her first arrival at Pau she had requested that a chapel might be provided in which the services of her church could be performed.
Marguerite too at first had smiled in kindly derision when Suzanne Ffoulkes, her large eyes filled with tears, had used her wiles to keep Sir Andrew tied to her own dainty apronstrings. But somehow, lately, with that gentle contempt which she felt for the weaker man, there had mingled a half-acknowledged sense of envy. How different 'twixt her and her husband.
And so one day, when Francoise was going to their house, some miles from Combray, Mamma said to her, with a smile: "Tell me, Francoise, if Julien has had to go away, and you have Marguerite to yourself all day, you will be very sorry, but will make the best of it, won't you?"
Marguerite came through the doorway and uttered a piercing cry as she saw her mother's eyes now glazing. "MARGUERITE!" repeated the dying woman. The exclamation contained so powerful an appeal to her daughter, she invested that appeal with such authority, that the cry was like a dying bequest.
Marguerite; and there is perhaps no scene in which more historical recollections are combined under one point of view, than that which its windows command. The island, whose garrison and buildings are distinguishable by the naked eye, was for many years the prison of the mysterious Masque de Fer, whose identity, like that of Junius, has hitherto baffled conjecture.
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