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Updated: June 18, 2025
The Abbé Marigny, that "delicate epicurean, that improviser of fine triolets, ballads, vaudevilles, that enemy of all sadness and sticklers for morality," charmed her, at times, with sentimental ballads, such as the following: Tréville went so far as to say that the figure of Mme. de Sévigné was beautiful enough to set the world afire.
As its walls were of a thickness of three metres, it was a work easy of accomplishment for Louis XI to turn the chateau into a Prison of State, a use to which the first chateau had actually been put by the shutting up in it of Enguerrand de Marigny. Henri IV, in 1574, passed some solitary hours and days within its walls, and Mirabeau did the same in 1777.
DEAREST A., I wish I could give you an idea of Petit Val and our life as lived by me. Petit Val is about twelve miles from Paris, and was built for the Marquis de Marigny, whose portrait still hangs in the salon the brother of Madame de Pompadour by the same architect who built and laid out the park of Petit Trianon.
At Vienna, however, no research availed to discover a trace of any such person; and in despair Graham returned to England in the January of 1870, and left the further prosecution of his inquiries to M. Renard, who, though obliged to transfer himself to Paris for a time, promised that he would leave no stone unturned for the discovery of Madame Marigny; and Graham trusted to that assurance when M. Renard, rejecting half of the large gratuity offered him, added, "Je suis Francais; this with me has ceased to be an affair of money; it has become an affair that involves my amour propre."
One of its ancient lords, Enguerrand de Marigny, was the inventor of the famous gibbet of Montfauçon, and in the poetic justice which should ever govern such cases he came to be hung on his own gallows. He was convicted of manifold extortions, and launched by the common executioner into that eternity whither he could carry none of his ill-gotten gains with him.
Round Jean Paulet's door one bright afternoon clustered a troop of the republican soldiers, eyeing indolently the perspiring farmer as he ran to and fro with water for their horses, and sweetening his labours with scraps of the latest news. "Hé, Paulet," suddenly asked the corporal, "hast heard anything of the rebel General Marigny?" "No!" replied the farmer hurriedly. "What should I hear?
Cynthia, too, glanced from one to the other with a frank merriment that showed how fully she appreciated their mutual dislike. As for Marigny, his white teeth gleamed now in a sarcastic grin. "Adversity is a strict master," he said, lapsing into his own language again. "My blunder of yesterday has shown me the need of caution, so I go no farther than Hereford in my thoughts."
Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there. She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the stairway moved. She shrank back. "Coward! little coward!" she muttered.
Always at the first signs of neurosis the inevitable result of the simple life I dashed to Paris, to the golden-haired Reine at the Marigny; or else I cabled to Anna of the Admiral's Palast in Berlin; or, if time permitted, I sought the glittering presence of Bianca Weise at Vienna. London had always seemed to me essentially senile grey-haired and sedate.
Food had been given away on the Champs Elysees, there had been sports in the square of Marigny, tournaments, greased poles, public balls, balloon ascension, fireworks, a general illumination, and everything of the sort for the amusement of the populace. On the 9th of June there were grand festivities in the large towns of the Empire, in honor of the baptism of the King of Rome.
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