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Updated: July 16, 2025
He wanted to be the talk of the town, to be the finest and best-dressed man there, in order to win first the attention, and then the hand, of Mademoiselle Rosalie de Watteville. In 1830, at the time when young Monsieur de Soulas was setting up in business as a dandy, Rosalie was but fourteen.
He rescued his friend, Count Frederick de Watteville, from the hands of fifty seducers; he persuaded three others to join in the work of rescue; and the five lads established a club which became a "Church within the Church" for boys.
Mademoiselle de Watteville had intercepted Albert's letters to the Duchess as well as that in which Francesca announced her husband's illness, warning her lover that she could write to him no more during the time while she was devoted, as was her duty, to the care of the dying man.
"She is very lenient to Monsieur de Savarus," she whispered to her mother. "You see," said the Baroness with a smile, "there is a question of a marriage between Sidonie and Monsieur de Savarus." Mademoiselle de Watteville hastily went to a window looking out over the garden. At ten o'clock Albert de Savarus had not yet appeared. The storm that threatened now burst.
At this instant Mademoiselle de Watteville was witness to an incident which promised to place in her power the means of knowing Albert's secrets. By the light of the moon she saw a pair of arms stretched out from the kiosk to help Jerome, Albert's servant, to get across the coping of the wall and step into the little building.
"Why, you can see his windows from hence," replied the Vicar-General. "Monsieur Savaron lives in the Rue du Perron; the garden of his house joins on to yours." "But he is not a native of the Comte," said Monsieur de Watteville. "So little is he a native of any place, that no one knows where he comes from," said Madame de Chavoncourt.
Madame de Soulas has two children, a boy and a girl, and she has grown younger; but Monsieur de Soulas has aged a good deal. "My fortune has cost me dear," said he to young Chavoncourt. "Really to know a bigot it is unfortunately necessary to marry her!" Mademoiselle de Watteville behaves in the most extraordinary manner. "She has vagaries," people say.
On the last night about a hundred Brethren and Sisters assembled in the death chamber. John de Watteville sat by the bedside. "Now, my dear friend," said the dying Count, "I am going to the Saviour. I am ready. I bow to His will. He is satisfied with me. If He does not want me here any more, I am ready to go to Him. There is nothing to hinder me now." He looked around upon his friends.
On those banks," and she pointed to the feet of the two hills, "I shall cut flowerbeds and make the loveliest English gardens. Let us go to Besancon and bring back with us the Abbe de Grancey, Monsieur Savaron, and my mother, if she cares to come. You can then make up your mind; but in your place I should have done so already. Your name is Watteville, and you are afraid of a fight!
Next morning, as she went to Mass accompanied by Mariette her mother was not well Rosalie took the maid's arm, which surprised the country wench not a little. "Mariette," said she, "is Jerome in his master's confidence?" "I do not know, mademoiselle." "Do not play the innocent with me," said Mademoiselle de Watteville drily.
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