Alfred de Rosann by G.W.M. Reynolds — page 271: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

236 Alfred de Rosana. of his supplication, that he gave an immense patéeé de fui gras to the postman who brought him the welcome despatch, and regaled the respectable fanctionary with such frequent libations of marasquino, that the letters, inetead of being distributed to their different ad- dresses, were carefully consigned to the gutter, where their guardian himself lay down—doubtless for the purpose of protecting them. No sooner had Champignon received his pardon, than he dropped the name of Citron as unworthy of him, and re-assumed his own. But fearful that this sudden change might appear singular to his customers, he caused upwards of ten thousand circulars to be printed and spread over the town of St. Malo, to inform the public that particular reasons, which he could not immediately ex- lain, obliged him to vary his nomenclature, He still continues is lucrative trade, ceases to deplore the fall of the Cadran Rouge, and rides out into the country every morning on his donkey to pur- chase the fowls that have died in the night, or that have been killed by the wanton mischief of vagabond boys. Louis Dorval built a neat dwelling on the site of his ruined man- sion, and found a good customer for his poultry and eggs in Cham- pignon. His wife recovered from the sick bed on which she was ying when we first made mention of her; and although neither she nor her husband be important characters in our history, we love to assure the reader of their prosperity and happiness. And what of Selina Robson? She has not again seen the object of her ill-fated attachment—but she hears of him often—and never mentions his name without asigh. Her grief has moderated into a settled melancholy ;—she seldom enters into society, or joins in any party of picasure. She is not absolutely wretched: but her coun- tenance has not the expression of gaiety that once animated it. Several eligible offers have been made to her; and she has declined them all. Her heart isdeeply wounded—it is not however broken : the scar has healed—the mark still remains, and still gives pain. Music draws tears from her eyes—a romance makes her weep like a child. She has notwithstanding become excessively fond of reading gloomy tales; for she finds in the history of disappointed passion those associations of sympathising ideas that console as they grieve, and that teach her how all mankind are more or less subject to misfortune while they excite her most sensitive feelings. With regard to Markham one word will suffice: he finished his career a miserable exile at Botany Bay. The reader will probably recollect the little girl who sang Or- lando’s song, in the streets of St. Malo. That songstress was - Jeannette. Her old grandmother died only a few days after Belle- Rose and De Rosann honoured her cottage with their presence; and Claude—the Draconic peasant whose ideas of justice we e so rigo- rously severe—left the miserable hut with his interesting daughter, and allured her to turn her musical talents to advantage. She suc- ceeded to the utmost of her own and her father’s wishes, and soon became celebrated at St. Malo as the “jolie chanteuse” of national airs. Her reputation followed her to Paris, whither she accom- paniod her sire to try their fortune in the metropolitan city—the COnicbooolks (GO)