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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Do you hate me, then?" asked Martial, sadly. If she had allowed herself to tell the whole truth Marie-Anne would have answered "Yes." The Marquis de Sairmeuse did inspire her with an almost insurmountable aversion. "I no more belong to myself than you belong to yourself, Monsieur," she faltered. A gleam of hatred, quickly extinguished, shone in Martial's eye. "Always Maurice!" said he. "Always."
"Too heavy!" sneered La Louve, and she lifted with ease the iron mace, which, under any other circumstances, she could hardly have raised from the ground. Then, mounting the stairs four at a time, she repeated to the children, "Run and bring in the girl, and place her near the fire." In two bounds, La Louve was at the bottom of the corridor, at Martial's door.
She felt that it would be the wisest plan, under such circumstances, to be perfectly frank, to teach her relative her lesson, and to imbue her with some of her own firmness. Having come to this conclusion, she disdained all concealment. "Ah, well!" she said, "I was jealous of Marie-Anne. I thought she was Martial's mistress. I was half crazed, and I killed her."
My friend, I would rather have their blandishments, their naughty airs, their annoying impudence, than a wife with 3,000,000 sesterces." Martial xii, 76. But the crowning piece of infamy is to be found in Martial's three epigrams upon his wife. They speak as distinctly as does the famous passage in Catullus' Epithalamium of Manilius and Julia, or Vibia, as later editors have it.
Blanche came rapidly forward to meet the duke, as pale as if every drop of blood had been drawn from her veins. "We are going, Monsieur le Duc," she said, coldly, "and we wish to make our adieux." "What! you are going? Will you not " The young bride interrupted him by a sad gesture, and drawing Martial's letter from her bosom, she handed it to M. de Sairmeuse, saying.
In spite of this very acrimonious comment, the fat little man's lips did not lose the smile which the Colonel's suggestion had brought to them. Montcornet returned to the lawyer, who had rejoined a neighboring group, intent on asking, but in vain, for information as to the fair unknown. He grasped Martial's arm, and said in his ear: "My dear Martial, mind what you are about.
Burn this accursed letter by the flames of this lantern, and let the baron go where his slumbers will be undisturbed." Martial's silence betrayed something like stupor. "What! you would do this you?" he demanded, at last. "Certainly and without the slightest hesitation." "Ah, well! I cannot say that I congratulate you."
"Oh! do you see, it was in taking away the long ladder which was against our window that they made such a noise just now." "I hear nothing more." "What are they doing with the ladder now?" "I can't see anything more." "Do you hear nothing?" "No." "Oh, Francois, it is, perhaps, to get into brother Martial's room by the window that they have taken the ladder?" "That may be."
I think I conceive Martial's meaning very clearly, though the nature of epigram, which is to be short, would not allow him to explain it more fully; and I take it to be this: O Sabidis, you are a very worthy deserving man; you have a thousand good qualities, you have a great deal of learning; I esteem, I respect, but for the soul of me I cannot love you, though I cannot particularly say why.
So great was his anxiety that he lent a helping hand in harnessing the horses he had ordered, and when the carriage was ready, he announced his determination to drive himself. As he urged the horses furiously on he tried to reflect, but the most contradictory ideas seethed in his brain, and he lost all power to consider the situation calmly. He burst into Martial's room like a tornado.
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