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Updated: May 12, 2025
Madame Riano, who had just returned from Rome, sparkled with diamonds like a walking Golconda; but Francezka wore only a few gems, but those exquisite. She looked very weary; the months of gaiety and dissipation she had led were telling on her. Gaston was a noble host, attentive to all, and not forgetting the kind and quality of respect due to each.
She represented that this ancestral seat, somewhere in the wilds of Scotland, was a far more magnificent place than the château of Capello, or the Hôtel Kirkpatrick. Madame Riano always pictured Scotland to us as a land flowing with milk and honey, of unparalleled richness and splendor, of stupendous wealth lavishly expended. I have sometimes been told the contrary of this.
It was upon events like these that Madame Riano based her absurd belief in second sight. But let it not appear that I am a man easily deluded when I declare that from the hour I saw the man I took for Gaston Cheverny in the burning house at Prague, I knew that Francezka was in sore distress, and even in need of her poor Babache.
Madame Riano was disposed to grumble a little that so many sovereigns and princes should waste their time in pageants instead of using their arms to set Prince Charles Stuart upon the throne of his ancestors; but otherwise she was reasonable enough. Francezka looked scarcely a day older than when I had last seen her two years and a half before.
The evening falling, the ladies made ready to depart, after many thanks for their entertainment. The coach was to come for them, but the July evening being inexpressibly sweet, Francezka persuaded Madame Riano to walk the short distance to the château. The arrangement of the walking party scarcely fell out to suit any one.
And so, all had fallen out fortunately, and here we were, with whole skins, sitting at ease at the inn, and like all people who have passed through agitating times, disposed to rejoice in our present peace. Almost the first thing Francezka, womanlike, asked of Madame Riano was, whether she had saved their boxes. This, madame had been fortunate enough to do.
In Madrid, whither she carried him, events are still dated from the Count Riano's funeral. Madame Riano wished to borrow the catafalque under which Louis le Grand had lain, and was mightily offended when it was refused her. The funeral lasted six weeks from Paris to Madrid.
He told me he had got word that his brother, the bishop, was coming to visit him and Madame Cheverny that day, and he knew a sharp disappointment was in store for the bishop when he should find Madame Riano absent. Then Father Benart asked me some very intelligent questions about Count Saxe's exploits in the Rhine campaigns.
I went straight to the palace. Just as I came near it, a traveling chaise with an escort of dragoons rolled out of the gates. On the box of the chaise sat old Peter, Madame Riano's man, and within was Madame Riano, alone.
Madame Riano, with her usual acuteness had pitched upon Königsberg as the likeliest place to await news from Francezka, for she had found out that Count Saxe was at Uzmaiz, and concluded that Francezka was there or in that neighborhood.
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