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Updated: June 20, 2025
His life was a long record of LIAISONS with women, an exact counterpart of the life of the famous actor Miraudin. And though there is a saying that a reformed rake makes the best husband, Sylvie was scarcely sure of being willing to try this test, besides, the Marquis had not offered himself in that capacity, but only as a lover.
"But I am becoming quite tragic in my remarks," went on Sylvie, resuming her usual gaiety, "Melodramatic, as they say! If I go on in this manner I shall qualify to be the next 'leading lady' to Miraudin! Quelle honneur!
I used to go to the theatre and frighten myself with studying the different points of resemblance! be the rough copy of Fontenelle's, and I always saw in the actor what the gentleman would be if he continued to live as he was doing. Miraudin, whose amours are a disgrace, EVEN to the stage!
"I mean what I say," declared Sylvie, "Miraudin used to be the darling of all the sentimental old maids and little school-girls who did not know him off the stage.
The duel between the Marquis Fontenelle and the actor Miraudin had furnished food for gossip at all the social gatherings in Rome, and Sylvie's name, freely mentioned as the cause of the dispute, had been thus given an unpleasant notoriety.
To employ a servant to play the spy on her mistress, and report to him her actions and movements, might be worthy of a Miraudin, but was it quite the thing for a Marquis Fontenelle?
Fate or the devil, or both! Well! What now!" "You are a liar and a blackguard!" said Fontenelle fiercely, "And unless you apologise for your insult to the lady whose name you have presumed to utter with your mountebank tongue " "Apologise! I! Moi! genie de France! Never!" retorted Miraudin with an air of swaggering audacity, "All women are alike! I speak from experience!"
Tu vas te crever sur terre avant je te quitte!" And he struck his riding-whip full in the actor's face. Springing out of the fiacre Miraudin confronted his antagonist. His hat was off and his countenance, marked as it was with the crimson line of the lash, lightened with laughter. "Again! Monsieur le Marquis, je vous salue!" he said, "Kismet! One cannot escape it!
Fontenelle wished to treat me as Miraudin would have treated his 'leading lady'; he judged that quite sufficient for happiness. Now Aubrey treats me as his comrade, his friend as well as his love, and that makes our confidence perfect. By the way, he spoke to me a great deal yesterday about the Abbe Vergniaud, and told me all he knew about his son Cyrillon." "Ah, the poor Abbe!" said Angela.
Miraudin, who in his position of actor-manager, takes despicable advantage of all the poor ignorant, struggling creatures who try to get into his company, and whose vain little heads are turned by a stray compliment, and to think that the Marquis Fontenelle should be merely the better-born copy of so mean a villain!
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