The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 257: what you’re looking at

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

246 Her father went out for the remainder of the day ; and Finette passed into the adjacent room— ostensibly to gossip with the wife of another turn- key, whose lodging it was—but in reality to glean all particulars relative to the charge for which the tall handsome prisoner was incarcerated. She learnt that he was the captain of a formidable gang of forest-banditti, and that all his followers were likewise in custody. The crimes of which they were accused were narrated to her; and though ehe shuddered while listening, yet she per- tinaciouely fell back on the belief that the inno- cence of De Margaux would transpire in respect to the blacker portion of the guilt alleged against him. As for his being the captain of a horde of banditti, —this was something chivalrously romantic and heroically grand in Finette’s estimation. She returned to her own room: her father’s injunc- tions were forgotten—or at least disregarded : she approached the window —she received another courteous salute from De Margaux—and she re- turned it. Be it understood that he had not over- heard the conversation which had taken place be- tween the father and daughter : but he felt assured that the girl must know for what he was impri- soned ; and he therefore very naturally concluded that she either thought very lightly of the crimes impated to him, or else disbelieved them—other- wise she would not thus receive and acknowledge his salutations. He made a sign that he wished to speak to her: then he placed his hand upon his heart—and next clasped both hands with an air of entreaty. YFinette—deeply compassionating the brigand chief—nodded her head as much as to convey the intimation that she would do some- thing on his behalf; and almost immediately afterwards the hour came at which De Margaux was to be reconsigned to his cell until the evening, when he would be allowed another short interval for exercise in the yard. Thus was it that Mademoiselle Finette in a very brief space found herself involved in an adventure which appeared to her replete with a charming romance. For the next three or four hours she could settle herself to no occupation: she prepared no food for herself—her needlework remained un- touched. The image of the brigand chief, with his fine tall form, his dark eyes, and his glossy moustache, was inseparable from her thoughts. At six o’clock in the evening De Margaux was again released from his cell, and suffered to walk in the court-yard. Finette had comprehended from his signs that he wished to speak to her. Perhaps be had some message of importance to convey, and which he dared only trust to a friendly medium P perhaps the very proofs of his innocence depended thereon? Who could tell? It would be deplorable if such a life were to be sacrificed for the want of so simple a favour. Finette could not endure the thought; and she resolved to ascertain what De Margaux might have to say to her. Having thus sophistically brought herself to the conclusion that there could be no possible harm in carrying out ber intentions, she lost no time in executing them. All prisoners who were waiting for trial, were permitted to purchase such little luxuries as tobacco, snuff, bottled beer, wine, or spirits; and the turnkeys enjoyed a monopoly of the sale of these articles. Taking a bottle of wine THB MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. in one hand and a packet of tobacco in the other, - Finette descended from her room, and tripped | across the court-yard with which that portion of ) the building communicated. The door opening into De Margaux’s yard, was so situated a a corner as to be concealed by an angle of the edifice from the windows of the turnkey’s rooms. In this door there was a little guichet, or trap, which | served as a ready means of communication with any one on the opposite side, and to save the trouble of opening the door itself every time such communication was needful. It was at that guichet, too, that friends who came to visit prisoners stood to converse with them. Opening the guichet, Finette looked through into the adjoining yard; and De Margaux in- atantaneously approached the door. There was no disappointment on either side by this closer view of each other: the false Baron was confirmed in his impression of Finette’s pleasing looke— while she herself found the demeanour of the captive to be more distinguished and his mannera more enchanting than even in her dreamy imagin- ings she had anticipated. You wished to speak to me ?’’ she said, blush- ing with confusion, but glancing furtively at De Margaux’s countenance from beneath the curtain of her long lashes. “Yes, beauteous damsel,’”’ responded the pri- soner; “because by your manner you displayed sympathy towards me.” . “True! I felt sympathy,” replied the still blushing Finette, “because—because—I could not possibly bring myself to believe ” “That I am guilty ?”’ ejaculated the false Baron, instantaneously penetrating what was passing in her mind. “No, no! I am not guilty! But to prove my innocence ” “Thank heaven, you are not guilty!” said Finette : and then deeper grew her blushes at the sudden enthusiasm into which her feelings had thus betrayed her. “You aro pleased that I assure you of my inno. cence ?”’ said De Margaux. “ Amiable and beauti- ful girl! i¢ is in such moments as these when the soul is sinking beneath the weight of an unjust accusation that the kind sympathy of one of your sex is so ineffably delicious. Ah! if I were free, how joyously would I testify my gratitude—Oh! how joyously—how sincerely !” “Bat if you were free,” asked Finette, “‘ would you go back to your forest-life? Would you again become the captain of a band, which though gal- lant, is still lawless ?” “If I were free, sweet maiden,” answered De Margaux—who was careful in his responses, and cautiously strove to elicit her sentiments, so that , he might take his cue thorefrom,—* if I were free, and if you were my companion, your word should be my law—your happiness should be my study —and therefore would [ do naught that should in any way militate againet your wishes.” “ Perhaps — perhaps,” faltered the hesitating and blushisg Finette, “there is some one whom you long to rejoin—some heart that is beating in anxiety for you—some one whom you love and by whom you are beloved ” “No,” replied De Margaux; “I never until now knew what love is———but I oxperience its power at this moment! Not for worlds, sweet Goin G OOO SS} (CO