PALACES AND PRISONS.
BY
MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.
AUTHOR OF “MARRIED IN HASTE,” “MABEL’S MISTAKE,” “HEIRESS,” “WIVES AND
WIDOWS,” “DOUBLY FALSE,” “MARY DERWENT,” “THE SOLDIER’S ORPHANS,” “RUBY
GRAY’S STRATEGY,” “REJECTED WIFE,” “GOLD BRICK,” “WIFE’S SECRET,” “THE
CURSE OF GOLD,” “THE OLD HOMESTEAD,” “SILENT STRUGGLES,” “FASHION AND
FAMINE.”
How little art thou known, oh Liberty!
Goddess so blindly worshiped on the earth—
Worshiped, in broad and simple majesty,
Most in the land which gave thee perfect birth;
Ay, birth and baptism, not of tears and blood,
Such as have stained thy hand in other climes:
Not with a mockery of brotherhood,
“Linked with some virtues and a thousand crimes’,”—
But, with a mighty homage of the mind,
We give to thee a lovely woman’s form;
Because, in that should ever be enshrined
All things opposed to treason, war and storm.
Thy face is beautiful; we love thy name;
If others dye those snowy garments red,
And drag thee downward into utter shame,
It is not through the path where we have led.
PHILADELPHIA:
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS;
306 CHESTNUT STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ WORKS.
Each Work is complete in one volume, 12mo.
_PALACES AND PRISONS._
_MARRIED IN HASTE._
_RUBY GRAY’S STRATEGY._
_THE CURSE OF GOLD._
_WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE._
_THE REJECTED WIFE._
_THE GOLD BRICK._
_THE HEIRESS._
_FASHION AND FAMINE._
_THE OLD HOMESTEAD._
_SILENT STRUGGLES._
_MARY DERWENT._
_THE WIFE’S SECRET._
_THE SOLDIER’S ORPHANS._
_MABEL’S MISTAKE._
_DOUBLY FALSE._
Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover.
Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or all of the
above books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, on
receipt of their price by the Publishers,
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
CONTENTS.
Chapter Page
I.— THE COUNTESS AND THE DOCTOR 23
II.— THE LADY IN THE PARK 28
III.— THE EGYPTIAN SCARABEE 34
IV.— KING LOUIS THE FIFTEENTH 38
V.— THE DWARF AND THE DAUPHINESS 41
VI.— HOUSEHOLD FAMINE 45
VII.— THE PRISONER OF THE BASTILLE 53
VIII.— AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 60
IX.— COUNT DE MIRABEAU AND MONSIEUR JACQUES 62
X.— MONSIEUR JACQUES IS INTRUSTED WITH A DELICATE MISSION 67
XI.— THE MARKET WOMAN 71
XII.— EARLY IN THE MORNING 74
XIII.— THEY THREE BREAKFAST TOGETHER 79
XIV.— MARGUERITE FINDS HER PATH OF DUTY AMONG THE FLOWERS 84
XV.— IN THE DUNGEONS OF THE BASTILLE 92
XVI.— THE KING’S work-shop 100
XVII.— THE KING AND THE WORKMAN 105
XVIII.— THE LANDLADY AND THE WHITE HENS 113
XIX.— THE SWISS COTTAGE 118
XX.— ROYAL MILKMAIDS 122
XXI.— DAME TILLERY TEACHES THE COURT AN ACCOMPLISHMENT 128
XXII.— THE QUEEN’S PERIL 132
XXIII.— COUNT MIRABEAU AND HIS FATHER 137
XXIV.— THE OLD NOBLEMAN MAKES CONCESSIONS 142
XXV.— THE LINK WHICH CONNECTED MIRABEAU WITH THE COURT 146
XXVI.— THE LANDLADY OF THE SWAN PLUMES HERSELF 153
XXVII.— DAME TILLERY PIQUED 157
XXVIII.— UNWELCOME GUESTS 162
XXIX.— THE QUEEN AND HER LADIES 166
XXX.— TRUE WOMANLY POWER 171
XXXI.— THE JOY OF A GREAT SURPRISE 175
XXXII.— MONSIEUR JACQUES PLEADS BEFORE ROYALTY 178
XXXIII.— ZAMARA BRINGS BAD NEWS FOR HIS MISTRESS 182
XXXIV.— MADAME’S CRIME COMES HOME TO TORTURE HER 186
XXXV.— DAME TILLERY DINES WITH THE COUNTESS DUBERRY 190
XXXVI.— THE DISGUISED COUNTESS 194
XXXVII.— JOYFUL NEWS 199
XXXVIII.— MIRABEAU AND HIS FOSTER BROTHER IN COUNCIL 203
XXXIX.— A VISITOR AFTER DARK 207
XL.— THE GOVERNOR AND THE PAGE 211
XLI.— THE COUNTESS AND HER VICTIM MEET 216
XLII.— THE PAGE TRANSFORMED 221
XLIII.— THE LAST ROULEAU OF GOLD 225
XLIV.— DAME TILLERY OBTAINS AN AUDIENCE IN THE PARK 230
XLV.— ONE VIRTUE LEFT 237
XLVI.— WAITING FOR THE MORNING 242
XLVII.— DEAD SEA FRUIT 247
XLVIII.— THE BITTERNESS OF DEATH 251
XLIX.— A WOMAN’S NATURE TRANSFORMED 256
L.— THE DAME OF THE DAIRY 261
LI.— EFFORTS AT ATONEMENT 265
LII.— MONSIEUR JACQUES TURNS BLACKSMITH AGAIN 272
LIII.— LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS 276
LIV.— A DETERMINED BENEFACTOR 281
LV.— GENEROSITY AND DIPLOMACY 285
LVI.— THE ENERGY OF MADNESS 288
LVII.— UNSEXED WOMANHOOD 292
LVIII.— THE FIRST ROLL OF THUNDER 297
LIX.— THE FIRST DRAW-BRIDGE 301
LX.— THE PRISONERS FREE 306
LXI.— THEY THREE MEET AGAIN 309
LXII.— THE PRISONER AT HOME 317
LXIII.— SEARCHING FOR THE SERPENT RING 321
LXIV.— DOWN IN THE LEAFY SHADOWS 326
LXV.— THE PRISONER AND THE KING 331
LXVI.— ON TO VERSAILLES 336
LXVII.— LOUISON BRISOT IN THE RUINS 339
LXVIII.— MARGUERITE COMFORTS HER FATHER 348
LXIX.— QUEENLY STRUGGLES 356
LXX.— ENEMIES RECONCILED 360
LXXI.— MIND SWAYING MIND 365
LXXII.— SPYING AND WATCHING 371
LXXIII.— FATHER AND DAUGHTER 376
LXXIV.— LOVE 381
LXXV.— CRAFT MEETING TREACHERY 388
LXXVI.— CRIMINATION AND INDIFFERENCE 392
LXXVII.— AMONG THE FLOWERS 398
LXXVIII.— THE MARKET WOMAN 402
LXXIX.— THE WOMEN OF FRANCE 406
LXXX.— TAKING AN OBSERVATION 412
LXXXI.— THE MIDNIGHT REVEL 418
LXXXII.— THROWING OFF DISGUISES 423
LXXXIII.— THE DOUBLE SPY 430
LXXXIV.— LOUISON AND MARGUERITE 436
LXXXV.— MIRABEAU BUYS FLOWERS 443
LXXXVI.— ANOTHER CUSTOMER 451
LXXXVII.— THE SEALED LETTER 456
LXXXVIII.— DAME TILLERY PROCLAIMS HER HEIRESS 462
LXXXIX.— MARGUERITE SEEKS THE QUEEN 469
XC.— A BITTER HUMILIATION ACCEPTED 475
XCI.— THE BAFFLED SPY 482
XCII.— THE VIPER TURNS 487
XCIII.— THE QUEEN’S LETTER 492
XCIV.— LOUISON BRISOT VISITS ROBESPIERRE 498
XCV.— THE FRAUD OF FASCINATION 507
XCVI.— ZAMARA IS MASTER OF THE SITUATION 512
XCVII.— BAFFLED AND DEFEATED 518
XCVIII.— A THANKLESS LOVER AND HOSTS OF ENEMIES 525
XCIX.— FETE IN THE CHAMP DE MARS 530
C.— THE QUEEN GIVES UP HER RING 535
CI.— ZAMARA IS TEMPTED TO EARN MORE GOLD 540
CII.— A LOVER’S QUARREL 545
CIII.— PERFECT RECONCILIATION 551
CIV.— A THEFT AND AN INSULT 555
CV.— THE SECRET OF THE RING 561
CVI.— THE OLD MAN FALLS ASLEEP 564
CVII.— THE SCARABEE DOES ITS DEADLY WORK 570
CVIII.— THE STORMING OF THE TUILERIES 576
CIX.— THE PRISONS 580
CX.— BOUGHT BY BLOOD 584
CXI.— THE GODDESS OF REASON 587
PALACES AND PRISONS.
CHAPTER I.
THE COUNTESS AND THE DOCTOR.
A beautiful woman—if a coarse nature ever can give beauty to faultless
features—sat in one of those charming little saloons which made the
Grand Trianon the gayest and most popular palace in France. She was not
alone—such women usually avoid solitude; but the person who stood before
her that day was so unlike any of the venal courtiers that usually
surrounded her, that his presence there, in itself, was remarkable. He
was a tall, spare man, a little under thirty. His hair was flaxen, soft,
and of that exceeding fineness, which is seldom found except upon the
head of an infant. His eyes were of a keen, variable gray, sometimes
pale in their color, sometimes almost black. The face was one of
remarkable refinement—exquisitely cut and perfect in the contour as the
best dreams of a sculptor; the complexion pure, changeable, delicate,
and fair. The least emotion brought a faint color over the forehead,
which was threaded about the temples with a network of azure veins.
Never was contrast more perfect than that which existed between this man
and the woman, in whose presence he was not allowed to sit. His air, his
gestures, the very bend of his person, was a protest of refinement
against the coarseness which, to his sensitive nature, made her
wonderful beauty repulsive. This woman was questioning him imperiously.
She wanted a favor, yet had not the grace to ask it gently.
“They tell me that you have this power—then why hesitate? When a subject
has the ability to serve his king, it is treason to waver.”
“But, madam, I may not have the power. Our Saviour himself carried
healing to the poor—never to kings; besides, it is given to man once to
die. That is a law which human art cannot reach, and divine power has
limited. The King of France is an old man, and, like the most humble of
us, his days are numbered.”
The woman started up in sudden terror.
“Is this prophecy, or is it rank treason?” she said.
“Madame, it is the simple truth. No art that I ever heard of can make an
old man young; the waters of eternal youth are fabulous. Great power
lies in human knowledge, but not such as you would evoke. Were it
otherwise——”
The man paused, and a faint color stained the pure whiteness of his
forehead. The countess seated herself. A glow of angry impatience had
succeeded to her sudden panic, and she seized upon his hesitation as a
wild animal snatches at food.
“Well, were it otherwise, what then?”
“Then it would be a consideration for any wise man, whether, in
continuing the king’s life beyond that period ordained of God, wrong
might not be done to the people of France.”
“Wrong done to the people of France!” cried the woman, grasping the arm
of her gilded chair with angry vehemence; “the people of France! What
are they but hounds, born to do the bidding of the king.”
“Forgive me, Madame la Countess; but it is said——”
“Well, what is said? Some miserable absurdity, no doubt; another scandal
of the people you talk of. Do not hesitate and stammer as if you were
afraid—I will help you out. It is said that not long since I, myself,
was one of the people—among the lowest, too. Is that it?”
The man bowed very gravely, and looked upon that beautiful face, which
had long since forgotten to blush, with a sentiment of profound pity.
The woman laughed scornfully, and clenched the arm of her chair in
fierce wrath.
“_You_ presume to pity _me_! I might have forgiven the rest; but this
you shall have good cause to remember.”
The man bowed, and made a movement toward the door. His face was
perfectly calm, his step even. She evidently had not terrified him by
her violence.
This wonderful composure astonished the woman, who had become so used to
adulation and assumed homage, that an assertion of self-respect took her
by surprise.
“I have not yet dismissed you, monsieur,” she said, with an effort at
self-control.
The man turned again, and waited while the countess took a golden tablet
from her bosom, and read a memorandum from its ivory leaves.
“This power of healing is not the most marvellous of your gifts, this
memorandum tells me.”
“It is the one I am most grateful for,” answered the man.
“But that of divination! Tell me if it is true that in Vienna the
Empress Maria Theresa sent for you to read the horoscope of her
daughter, the Dauphiness of France?”
“If her majesty had so honored my poor gifts, it would be a base return
to speak of it.”
“But it has got out already, do you think the Countess Du Berry can be
kept ignorant of what goes on in any court of Europe? there is no longer
a mystery. It is said that the Dauphiness turns pale if your name is but
mentioned in her presence.”
The man remained silent, and stood looking sadly on the floor. Some
painful thought seemed to carry him out of that woman’s presence—this
gave her new offence.
“You do not listen, monsieur. Must I be compelled to speak twice?”
The man started as if he had been dreaming.
“I crave your pardon, Madame la Countess. Other thoughts came across me,
and I forgot your presence. As I cannot accomplish the thing you most
desire, permit me to take my leave.”
“Not till you have given me a proof of the wonderful power which was
sufficient to gain you admittance to the cabinet of Maria Theresa. If
your prophesies could drive the blood from that proud heart, they must
be worth listening to. Tell me, monsieur, of my own future. How long——”
The countess checked herself, she had not the courage to ask, in so many
words, how long her evil power might last; for she knew well enough that
it was limited to the life of a wicked old man, and even she shrunk from
a direct question. But the man divined her reason for hesitation, and
answered quietly, as if she had spoken.
“Madame la Countess forgets that to divine the king’s death is treason.”
“But you can tell me this. Not his death—not his death! Heaven forbid
that it should be near enough for your gift of divination, whatever that
may be, to reach it! But tell me of his life. He is strong, he is
healthy; and men do, sometimes, live to be a hundred. Ah! if your
witchcraft could tell me that, it would make you the richest man, and me
the happiest woman in all France.”
“But, madame——”
“Do not dispute me. I have power—help me to perpetuate it. You have
great skill as a physician, if nothing more. The king’s physicians are
negligent, they permit him to be worried with questions of state. They
allow the courtiers to disturb him with their quarrels; De Chaiseul
never gave him rest, and for this he lost his portfolio. I say again, a
physician who will devote himself to the health and real good of the
king, who will be the friend of his friends, watchful and trustworthy,
might become anything his ambition pointed out. Do not shake your head,
monsieur—I ask nothing that an honest man may not perform.”
“You ask everything, madame, when you desire a student to give up his
pursuit of knowledge, and confine his life to any one man, though that
man be King of France.”
“Then you refuse me—refuse a position that would crown the highest
ambition of most men?”
“Madame, I have no ambition.”
The countess threw herself back in her chair and laughed aloud.
“A man with no ambition? This is a novel creature. But you are looking
through the window. What is it that you see there?”
The countess started up from her chair and ran across the room,
forgetting all her previous efforts at dignity in vulgar haste to learn
what had drawn this strange man’s attention so completely from her.