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Updated: May 26, 2025
M. le Comte's guests followed closely on the triumphant bridegroom's heels: M. le préfet, fussy and nervous, secretly delighted at the idea of affixing his official signature to such an aristocratic contrat de mariage as was this between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and M. Victor de Marmont, own nephew to Marshal the duc de Raguse; Madame la préfète, resplendent in the latest fashion from Paris, the Duc and Duchesse d'Embrun, cousins of the bride, the Vicomte de Génevois and his mother, who was Abbess of Pont Haut and godmother by proxy to Crystal de Cambray; whilst Général Marchand, in command of the troops of the district, fresh from the Council of War which he had hastily convened, was trying to hide behind a débonnaire manner all the anxiety which "the brigand's" march on Grenoble was causing him.
"And you, child, are marrying a kinsman of that abominable Duc de Raguse in order to regild our family escutcheon."
After all," she added naively, "a pagan may become converted to Christianity without being called a traitor to his false gods, and the Duc de Raguse may have learnt to hate the idol whom he once worshipped, and for this profession of faith we should honour him, I think." "Yes," grunted Madame, unconvinced, "but we need not marry into his family."
But he has taken my political convictions for granted," rejoined de Marmont. Then suddenly a look of bitter resentment darkened his face, making it appear hard and lined and considerably older. "My uncle, Marshal de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, was an abominable traitor," he went on with ill-repressed vehemence. "He betrayed his Emperor, his benefactor and his friend.
He thought I was Marmont; my aide-de-camp told him so." One loud burst of laughter interrupted the major at this moment, and it was some considerable time before he could continue his narrative. "And do you really mean," said I, "that you personated the Duke de Raguse?" "Did I not, though?
Thank God that even in his life-time, de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, has already an inkling of what posterity will say of him. Has not the French language been enriched since the capitulation of Paris with a new word that henceforth and for all times will always spell disloyalty: and to-day when we wish to describe a particularly loathsome type of treachery, do we not already speak of a 'ragusade'?"
"My dear Sophie!" ejaculated the Comte. "Eh, what?" she retorted tartly, "you would object to a tradesman as a brother-in-law, would you? What about a de Marmont for a son? Eh?" "Victor de Marmont is a soldier in the army of our legitimate King. His uncle the Duc de Raguse. .
Intelligence has just reached us that the mob are demolishing the lanterns, and that they have broken into the shops of the gunsmiths, and seized all the arms they could find. The Duc de Raguse commands the troops, and already several charges have taken place. This selection, under present circumstances, is not considered to be a good one.
"Tush, child, I know that," said Madame with her habitual tartness of speech, "I know it just as well as history will know it presently, and methinks that history will pass on the Duc de Raguse just about the same judgment as I passed on him in my heart last year.
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