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Updated: June 21, 2025
But the two hours went by, Montriveau had spent his last drops of energy, and the skyline was a blank, there were no palm-trees, no hills. He could neither cry out nor groan, he lay down on the sand to die, but his eyes would have frightened the boldest; something in his face seemed to say that he would not die alone.
You might set about it like the late Marechal de Richelieu, and get nothing for your pains." Armand was dumb with amazement. "Has your desire reached the point of infatuation?" "I want her at any cost!" Montriveau cried out despairingly. "Very well. Now, look here. Be as inexorable as she is herself. Try to humiliate her, to sting her vanity.
The Comte de Montriveau died at St. Petersburg," said the Vidame. "I met him there. He was a big man with an incredible passion for oysters." "However many did he eat?" asked the Duc de Grandlieu. "Ten dozen every day." "And did they not disagree with him?" "Not the least bit in the world." "Why, that is extraordinary! Had he neither the stone nor gout, nor any other complaint, in consequence?"
Her character for virtue was consolidated while she amused herself with other people's secrets, and kept her own to herself. Yet, after two months of assiduities, she saw with a vague dread in the depths of her soul that M. de Montriveau understood nothing of the subtleties of flirtation after the manner of the Faubourg Saint-Germain; he was taking a Parisienne's coquetry in earnest.
For two nights Montriveau, wrapped in his cloak, lay out on the rock platform. The singing at vespers and matins filled him with unutterable joy. He stood under the wall to hear the music of the organ, listening intently for one voice among the rest. But in spite of the silence, the confused effect of music was all that reached his ears.
"I will stay here," said Montriveau. "Go back into the parlour, and shut the door at the end of the passage." He threw open the door and rushed in, preceded by his disguised companion, who let down the veil over his face. There before them lay the dead Duchess; her plank bed had been laid on the floor of the outer room of her cell, between two lighted candles.
Montriveau introduced the Baron du Chatelet to the Marquise, and the Marquise received Her Royal Highness' ex-secretary the more graciously because she had seen that he had been very well received in three boxes already. Mme. de Serizy knew none but unexceptionable people, and moreover he was Montriveau's traveling companion.
Those are the brothels of French history. "This preamble, my dear child," she continued after a pause, "brings me to the thing that I have to say. If you care for Montriveau, you are quite at liberty to love him at your ease, and as much as you can. Only, sweetheart, I should not have given up my right to be the mother of future Ducs de Langeais. So mind appearances. The Vidame is right.
She sat down, and seemed very slow over putting on her gloves, trying to slip the unstretched kid over all her fingers at once, while she watched M. de Montriveau; and he was lost in admiration of the Duchess and those repeated graceful movements of hers. "Ah! you were punctual," she said; "that is right. I like punctuality.
He admired Mme de Langeais herself in the objects of her choosing; they revealed her life before he could grasp her personality and ideas. About an hour later the Duchess came noiselessly out of her chamber. Montriveau turned, saw her flit like a shadow across the room, and trembled. She came up to him, not with a bourgeoise's enquiry, "How do I look?"
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