CHAPTER XXXIX.

LOUISE GAUTHIER--THE CONCLUSION

It frequently occurs that after a day of stormy darkness--when the elements appear to have combined the whole of their power against the earth, splitting the tossed and dismantled branches of the trees from their parent trunk, beating down the produce of the fields, and deluging the valleys with a sudden and rapid inundation, whilst the fire-laden clouds obscure the sun, lighting up the heavens in his stead by lurid flashes--the wind subsides, the clouds disperse, and the calm sunset beams over the now tranquil landscape.

True it is, the vestiges of the mischief wrought remain; but their importance is diminished by the general quietude that reigns around. The foliage is fresh and green; the cleared air is breathed gratefully, and imparts its lightness to the spirits; feeding hope, and kindness, and all good aspirations. The odours of the flowers are more fragrant, and the colours of their petals brighter; and the torrent which rushed darkly in its overcharged course, reflecting only the glooming heavens above, now once more murmurs over its bed of bright pebbles, sparkling in the warm rays of eventide.

Our scene changes, and now for the last time, from the fearful Place de Grêve to the most charming district of the teeming and sunny Languedoc. It is noon; and the stillness of a summer mid-day reigns around. But everything is not hushed. Birds are singing, and the hum of bees blends pleasantly with their minstrelsy, coming in soft murmurs from the floating aviaries lying upon the surface of a glassy river, which would seem at perfect rest but for the quivering of the buds and lilies that struggle with its gentle stream, or the hanging flowers that droop from the bank to kiss the clear water. The sky is deep blue, and cloudless, and the summer foliage of the trees waves in pleasant relief against its light, causing the dancing shadows to quiver on the spangled turf below, as though even the sunbeams were sporting for very gladness.

And now and then sounds of laughter, and snatches of old Provençal melodies are heard near a cottage which forms part of a small homestead on the banks of the river. On a table at the door, and beneath the shadow of a huge chestnut-tree--of which many more are visible on the land--is spread a repast of honey, bread, cheese, and wine; and seated at this table we have little difficulty in recognising Benoit, Bathilde, and Louise Gauthier. The two first are plump and merry as ever--perhaps more so, and Louise appears to have lost some of her sadness. Her cheek is scarcely so pale as it was in Paris when Benoit first knew her, and now and then a faint smile may be detected on her lips, which it appears to be Benoit’s ceaseless endeavour to call up.

‘Ah!’ exclaimed the honest ex-keeper of the boat-mill, with the expression of one whose stomach is comfortably filled; ‘this is better than the great cities after all. To think after staying in Paris so long we should come back with less than we went!’

‘You forget Louise,’ replies Bathilde, as she takes their friend kindly by the hand.

‘Not at all,’ continues Benoit, as he rises and kisses the Languedocian with a smack that quite echoes again. ‘There _ma femme_, you may be jealous of that if you like, and I don’t care; nor more does Louise, as I would wager my life. Eh! Louise?’

‘You would find it a difficult task to offend me,’ replies Louise, ‘for I owe you too much kindness--even if you kiss me before Bathilde.’

‘You owe us nothing. I think the debt is on our side. Whose are these things? Whose is this bit of ground?--yours, all yours! and you shall turn us out when you like.’

‘I do not think I shall do that,’ is Louise’s answer; ‘now, we must never part again. I know I am at times but a sad companion for such kind hearts as yours; but if you will bear with me, although I cannot forget the past, yet your goodness shall do more than aught else in the world to alleviate the memory of what has been.’

THE END.

ENDNOTES

[1] _society of Gens de la Courte Épée_] ‘Ces grades se composent ordinairement d’écoliers. On les nommait “gens de la courte épée” à cause des ciseaux qu’ils portaient pour couper les bourses.’--_Dulaure_.

[2] _Manna of St. Nicholas de Barri_] ‘The Manna of St. Nicholas de Barri’ was the name under which the _Aqua Tofana_ was vended almost publicly.

[3] _foul and reeking burial-ground attached to the Église des Innocens_] The ill effects which the overcharged Cimetière des Innocens had upon the salubrity of Paris, situated as it was in its most crowded quarter, had been matter of complaint for _four hundred years_. Yet such was the opposition of the ecclesiastical authorities, and the blind and superstitious obstinacy of the people generally, although the tainted air they breathed was thick with putrefaction and disease, that it was not until 1785 that the Council of State ordered its demolition. It was supposed, up to that time, that there had been one million two hundred thousand bodies forced into its comparatively narrow limits!

[4] _they form his flambeaux_] _Adipocere_ is the substance alluded to. Its name conveys its properties, and it was first made the subject of an interesting analysis by M. Thouret in 1784, upon the occasion of removing the burial-ground of the Innocents. It has always been found most abundant where the bodies have had the chance of being exposed to inundations of fresh water; its formation being the result of some peculiar decomposition of the human frame hitherto unsatisfactorily accounted for. A piece is in the possession of the author.

[5] _Tsa tshen pal!_] ‘How are you, brother?’ This is true Gitano, or Gipsy language. Wherever it is used, the reader may be assured of its authenticity.

[6] _morro_] Bread.

[7] _lon_] Salt.

[8] _ranee_] A lady.

[9] _blunderbus_] Blunderbus is derived from the Dutch _donderbus_--a thunder-gun.

[10] _cachots_] ‘The hapless Prince d’Armagnac and his brother were confined in these _cachots_ by Louis XI. They were taken out twice a week to be scourged, in the presence of Phillipe O’Huillier, the governor, and had some teeth drawn every three months. The eldest lost his reason; but the youngest, delivered at the death of Louis, published these facts, which would otherwise have been considered too terrible for belief.’--_Hist. de l’Ancien Gouvern. par le compte de Boulainvilliers_, tom. iii. Lettre 14.

[11] It is supposed that the fetes of Versailles at the present epoch entirely owed their origin to a desire on the part of Louis XIV. to eclipse the splendour of his _surintendant_ Fouquet. At one of the magnificent entertainments given by this individual every guest invited was presented with a heavy purse of gold.

[12] _Halles_] Or, in English, ‘Billingsgate.’

[13]

‘Le tribut qu’on rend aux traits d’un beau visage, De la beauté d’une âme est un vrai témoignage; Et qu’il est malaisé que, sans être amoureux, Un jeune prince soit et grand et généreux. C’est une qualité que j’aime en un monarque, La tendresse du cœur est une grande marque; Que d’un prince, à votre âge, on peut tout présumer, Dès qu’on voit que son âme est capable d’aimer. Oui, cette passion, de toutes la plus belle, Traîne dans son esprit cent vertus après elle, Aux nobles actions elle pousse les cœurs, Et tous les grands héros ont senti ses ardeurs.’ Molière.

[14] A Siamese prince, rejoicing in the name of _Tan-oc-cun-srivi-saravacha_, who formed part of the Siamese embassy in 1684, thus speaks of this group, in a ‘letter to a friend:’--‘Tu sais quel est le mortel que ce dieu représente: quant aux nymphes, si tu connaissais comme moi l’histoire secrète de la cour, tu comprendrais sans peine à la place de qui on les a mises là. Je ne trouvais pas d’abord que cela fut déraisonnable, parceque je pensais que la polygamie régnait en France comme à Siam.’

[15] _Samaritaine_] The Samaritaine was a large hydraulic machine just below the Pont Neuf, where the floating Bains de Louvre are moored at present. It was a house erected upon piles, in form somewhat like a church, with a clock at one end. Having fallen to decay, it was entirely demolished in 1813.

[16] _the Hôtel de Cluny was… the abode of Mary_] The circumstances connected with the residence of Mary of England at the Hôtel de Cluny are somewhat too curious to be passed over at this place, although the freedom of Brantôme and Dulaure, in describing them, may be softened down with advantage. Louis was upwards of fifty when he married; his bride, as we have stated, about sixteen. On his death the crown fell, for want of a direct heir, to the Duke of Valois, afterwards Francis I.; but the young widow, in the hopes of being proclaimed _regénte_, feigned to be in that condition popularly asserted to be coveted by ladies who are attached to their lawful partners. And indeed the attentions of the gallant Duke of Valois were sufficiently pointed to lead the retailers of court scandal to hint that the fiction might possibly become a fact--so much so, that the ministers remonstrated with him. They told him that he must have the greatest interest in seeing that the Queen lived in honour, instead of attempting to pay his court to her; that if she had a son, nothing could keep that son from ultimately coming to the throne, and that he, Francis, must retire contentedly to Brittany; in fact, that everything, altogether, would be as unpleasant for him as could possibly be. These admonishings appear to have had an effect upon the royal gallant, and somewhat quenched the fire of his passion, which was altogether put out by learning that an intrigue was all this while being carried on between the young Mary and Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, the most accomplished cavalier of his time, and to whom the Princess had shown some partiality before her marriage with Louis. Francis made this discovery under rather awkward circumstances--no matter how--at the Hôtel de Cluny; and by his commands Mary and Suffolk were married immediately in the chapel of the edifice. The happy pair left Paris for London the same afternoon. Thus ended the adventure, by which Francis lost a mistress, but insured to himself the crown of France.

[17] An outrage of this kind was by no means uncommon in the reckless times of Louis Quatorze, nor did its commission excite much attention, if we may credit the memoirs of the Abbe Dubois.

[18] Much has been written upon the Aqua Tofana, especially with respect to its alleged power of killing at any interval of time after it had been administered. No drug is now known that would thus exert any species of action. The only example that can be brought forward to support the possible truth of this statement is the poison from the bite of a mad dog, which will remain dormant in the system, it is well known, for several months.

[19] This, and many of the incidents about to follow, the author has taken from some decayed and mouse-eaten pamphlets in his possession, bearing the date of the trial, which he was fortunate enough to find, some time back, at a bookshop in the neighbourhood of the Rue de l’École de Médecine, Paris. By the similarity of the pages and references, they appear to be the same from time to time referred to by M. Alexandre Dumas, in the _Crimes Célèbres_; and two bear imprint, ‘A Paris. Chez Pierre Aubouin, Cour du Palais, et, chez Jacques Villery, Rue Vieille Bouclerie.’ One is a memoir of this extraordinary ‘_procez_;’ the second is a copy of the sentence, much dilapidated; and the third is the defence of M. Nivelle,--‘De l’imprimerie de Thomas Le Gentil,’--in excellent preservation. They were all published before the denouement of the terrible drama. The following extract from the end of the ‘Mémoire’ is not without interest:--‘Le public en attend la décision avec la mesme impatience que chacun a pour ce qui doit contribuer à sa sûreté et à son repos. Il espére que Messievrs qui ont travaillé avec tant de précaution à pénétrer les circonstances d’une affaire aussi importante, en punissant la coupable par leur arrest, préviendront de pareils crimes, d’autant plus dangereux qu’ils sont secrets et inévitables.’

[20] _Le Bourget_] At this little village of Le Bourget, on the 20th of June 1815, Napoleon, returning from Waterloo, stopped for two hours, that he might not enter Paris until nightfall, and thus diminish in some measure the sensation which his flight from Belgium would produce.

[21] Those who may be inclined to pursue this portion of Marie’s career still further, especially as regards the confession, will find much relating to it in the letters of Madame de Sevigné, particularly Nos. 269 and 270.

[22] Pirot.

[23] The author has endeavoured as much as possible in the course of this romance to render it something more than a mere extension of the facts already known respecting the career of the Marchioness of Brinvilliers; and more especially with regard to the admirable narrative of Dumas, in the _Crimes Célèbres_. But, since it would be utterly futile to attempt any description of her last hours more graphic or interesting than the manuscript narrative of M. Pirot, he has, in portions of these chapters, availed himself largely of the circumstances therein stated. Besides this, he has taken the sentence from the original parliamentary document in his own possession, before alluded to, merely divesting it of long technicalities, and the repetitions of the names of the principal parties concerned in the affair. The authority for matters respecting the ‘Question’ will be found in a note to the _Tableau Moral_ of the reign of Louis Quatorze, in Dulaure’s _History of Paris_.

[24] _Cour des Miracles_] This Cour des Miracles--the principal of those so called--may be recollected by the visitor to Paris at the present day. It adjoins the bureau of the Prefecture, to which he goes to have his passport _viséed_ previous to leaving the city. The nuisance of tramping backwards and forwards from the English Embassy to this point is too well known.

[25] _Rue aux Fèves_] The Rue aux Fèves, still in existence, has gained some notoriety from having been the street in which M. Eugene Sue has placed the _tapis franc_ of the White Rabbit.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

The Richard Bentley edition (London, 1846) was consulted for most of the changes listed below.

Minor spelling variances (_e.g._ befel/befell, Liège/Liége, fireplace/fire-place, etc.), along with the inconsistent italicization of some foreign words, have been preserved.

Plain text edition only: note markers are given in [square] brackets.

Alterations to the text:

Add title and author to cover image.

Convert the footnotes to endnotes.

Omit the head- and tailpieces.

Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings and missing periods.

[Chapter II]

Change “poisons in the stomach, like _witches_ nails and pins” to _witches’_.

[Chapter VI]

“it was Marie-Marguerite _d’Aubrai_, Marchioness of Brinvilliers” to _d’Aubray_.

[Chapter VII]

“were too great to allow them to _thing_ of retiring to rest” to _think_.

[Chapter IX]

“better or a wiser man. Ah these women’ he added” add exclamation mark after _women_.

[Chapter XII]

“The _Bastile_, it may be known, consisted at that time of eight towers” to _Bastille_.

[Chapter XV]

“from her first appearance in _Moliére’s_ comedy” to _Molière’s_.

“better manners another time, Mademoiselle des _Ulris_,’ said” to _Urlis_.

[Chapter XVIII]

“the astrologers gleaned important _imformation_ respecting” to _information_.

[Chapter XIX]

“and, after _your_ have got all you can by agreement, see what else” to _you_.

“whose _mounteback_ engagements had given him a certain kind” to _mountebank_.

[Chapter XXI]

“and halfway along the street stopped at _a porte-cochère_” de-italicize the _a_.

[Chapter XXII]

“laugh against the the gallant abbe which he had raised” delete one _the_.

[Chapter XXVIII]

“There were no signs of _lie_ in that quarter of Paris” to _life_.

[Chapter XXXI]

“‘There is no _neccessity_ for your so doing,’ returned Marie” to _necessity_.

[Chapter XXXIV]

“He had forgotten his _fiance_, and was anxious again to see her” to _fiancée_.

[Chapter XXXVI]

“even in the face of a _confesssion_ in her own hand-writing” to _confession_.

[Chapter XXXVIII]

“The _arrrest_ was to the effect that the Court of the Chambers” to _arrest_.

[End of text]