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Updated: June 4, 2025
Montalais shrugged her shoulders. "Laugh as much as you like; but if, instead of being comfortably seated on the top of the wall as you are, you were sitting on this branch as if you were on horseback, you would, like Augustus, aspire to descend." "Be patient, my dear M. Manicamp; a few minutes will soon pass away; you were saying, I think, that you had gone beyond Ris and Melun."
And this monosyllable indicated as much anger as the young man might have expected gratitude. He shook his head quietly. "Listen, Montalais," said he, without heeding whether that familiarity pleased his mistress or not; "let us not dispute about it." "And why not?" "Because during the year which I have known you, you might have had me turned out of doors twenty times if I did not please you."
"Stay where you are! I order you!" "You order me?" "Yes; am I not mistress?" "Of my heart and soul, without doubt." "A pretty property! ma foi! The soul is silly and the heart dry." "Beware, Montalais, I know you," said Malicorne; "you are going to fall in love with your humble servant." "Well, yes!" said she, hanging round his neck with childish indolence, rather than with loving abandonment.
The newspapers of Paris, that day, had a sensation that crushed into insignificance the news from Château de Montalais: in a compartment which he had occupied alone on the night rapide from Lyons, a man had been found with his throat cut, his clothing ripped to rags, even his luggage slashed to ribbons. Whether through chance or intention, every possible clue to the victim's identity was missing.
"There," said Montalais, "you have pardoned me, Louise, for having brought monsieur to you; and you, monsieur, bear me no malice for having followed me to see mademoiselle. Now, then, peace being made, let us chat like old friends. Present me, Louise, to M. de Bragelonne."
She, indeed, whose disposition was the most lively, Montalais, for instance, was the first to yield to the influence; and she began by heaving a deep sigh, and saying: "What happiness to be here alone, and at liberty, with every right to be frank, especially towards one another."
"Monsieur of the garotte, Liane; recently the assassin of de Lorgnes; before that the ex-chauffeur of the Château de Montalais." "Albert Dupont?" "As you say, it is not a name." "The same?" Her old terror revived. "My God! what have I ever done to that one that he should seek my life?" "What had de Lorgnes?"
"Ah! ah!" said the Prince de Conde to Raoul, "she is presentable enough." "Yes," said Raoul, "but has she not a somewhat haughty style?" "Bah! we know these airs very well, vicomte; three months hence she will be tame enough. But look, there, indeed, is a pretty face." "Yes," said Raoul, "and one I am acquainted with." "Mademoiselle Aure de Montalais," said Madame de Navailles.
It is our excellent mother. M. le Vicomte, what a pity it is the window looks upon a stone pavement, and that fifty paces below it." Raoul glanced at the balcony in despair. Louise seized his arm and held it tight. "Oh, how silly I am!" said Montalais, "have I not the robe-of-ceremony closet? It looks as if it were made on purpose."
"Well, then, if it be not Mademoiselle Aure de Montalais, it is that pretty blonde who follows her. What beautiful eyes! She is rather thin, but has fascinations without number."
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