The Mysteries of the Court of London Vol. 7 — page 265: what you’re looking at

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

Cel Ua xP A ec AG tt SSAA THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. hood of which De Margaux was at the time alluded. Unfortunately for the poor girl, they making friends with the strollers: but the con- | were the only travellers in that division of the stable was assured that no person at all answer- ing the felon’s description had been seen in the place, Meanwhile the drugged sentinel was restored to consciousness; and the luckless Vinette—amidst torrents of tears and agonised appeals for pardon =-oonfessed all the details of her connivance in the prisoner's escape. By her father she was over- whelmed with reproaches; the sentinel to whom she had given the drugged brahdy, upbraided her with an almost equal bitterness: her eire’s brother- turnkeys were scarcely less warm in the expression of their sentiments, The unhappy git was quickly rescued from her infatuation reference to De Margaux. She now learnt thas he himeslf was in reality a murderer-~that there cogid be no possible mistake on the subject, for that Dame Roquette bad that very evening made the: fullest and most ample revelations to the gaol-chapjain. _ The con- viction was forced upon Finetta, too, that, De gaux was an accomplished decottrencethay kip tater? he of buried treasure and of en Alpine villa were gil utterly falsa—and that he had imposed upon her credulity in every possible way in arder to further his own ends. The gir) was plunged into the very abyss of mental wretehedness: shé wah shocked at her own foolish infatuation; and being far from deficient in good principle at the bottom ‘of al] giddiness, she was ready to die with shame, as well as to sink the upbraidings of those by whom she was surrounded. = - It was necessary to‘ make an immediate report to the governor gaol, who at the time was fanotionary - father g the sleeping soundly in his bed; and this was seized with a violent rage. Jinette’ had obtained a half-holiday on the waderdlandin that he was to return to his quarters at eight o’clock that evening: hia,dereliction of duty was therefore discovered; and the governor failed not to reproach him with the fact that if he hed ad- hered to the rules of the prison, his daughtér could not have found an opportunity to carry out her de- signs. The uence was that in the morning Finette’s father reovived his dismissal, accompanied with an intimation on the part of the police that he had better get out,of the town with the least possible delay, if he were desirous “o avoid a still more rigorous chastisement. Thies hurricane of calamities well nigh broke poor Finette’s heart. Her aunt—to whom a fy- the mingled folly and wickedness of which she had been guilty, and positively refased to give her an asylum while her father sought for employment elsewhere. The ex-turnkey was accordingly com pelled to take his daughter with him: and as he bad a brother who was comfortably settled as a draper in a town about eighty siiles distant, he re- | gone salved to proceed thither in the hope that some- thing might be done for-him. He some little savings, to the exteht of eightees or twenty pounds, peaking in English money: and thus he was not as yet compelled to look absolute poverty In. thé retende, or cheapest part of the diligence wrgteey the ex-turnkey and Finette topk vehicle; and thus her father failed not to continue his upbraidings as they journeyed onward. Fi- nette wept bitterly: she over and over again avowed all her folly and wickedness, and besought her sire’s pardon, But,be was one of those men who could not be very easily appeasetl, and who in any case must give the fullest vent to their ill- humour before the word.“ pardon ” could possibly escape their lips. At length the ex-turnkey talked himself off to sleep; and Finette sat pensive and miserable, looking listlesaly from the window of the ¢ At one of the post-houses whére the coach atopped to change horses—and while her father continued to sleep soundly—Finette’s eyes settled upon a placard posted against the wall immediately opposite the window of the diligence. She be- held the name of De Margaux: she read the placard: i¢ offered a reward of a thousand franca (forty pounds sterling) for the apprehension of prisoner. , The contents of this bill put Vivegte’s feelings to a now and final test: such an impulse was given to her thoughts that sha now unmistakably comprehended whetbor there were any lingering remnant of the late in- fatuation in her soul—or whetber her love had turned to hatred. She urderstood likewise whe- ther, if De Margaux suddenly appeared before her, even with veritable proofs of his buried trea- sure and of his Alpine villa, she would flee away with him to share his riches,—or whether she would remain with ber sire, to endure his upbraidings as often ag the humour for venting them might take possession of him. The diligence continued its way, and Finette shed no more tears—but remained plunged in deep and gloomy meditation, until her father woke’ up and renewed -his reproaches. _ Finette listened to them in silence: she no longer entreated his forgivenesg—there was even somethéag dull and spathetiv iR the appearance of the young girl. Her father deemed her indifferent to the calamities which had overtaken him; and he redoubled his upbraidings. Still Finette said nothing; and again did the ex-turnkey talk till he was tired—so that relapsing into slumber, he slept for the last three or four hours of the journey. The night was setting in when the diligence entered the town which was the destinatiun of | Finette and her father. It was too late for them to call on their relation until the mo row; and they therefore took up their quarters at a small inn—or rather public-house, in the neighbourhood of the office where the coach stopped. In the - | morning the ex-tarnkey set out to proceed alone, in the first instance, to his brother’s: but on ar- Fiving at the house he found that ite master hed on likely to be detained for a week. The draper was an un man, and had left his little establish- ment in the charge of a clerk; so that the exe turnkey could not even obtain an asylum at the house until his brother's return. As the reader may suppose, be retraced his way to the tavern in no very enviable humour, and fally Prepared te his vexation upon the of poor vent all for ‘the town to which we have just | Finette. ing day to Paris, where’ he was - LOAO© A SS (CO)