The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 216: what you’re looking at

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

202 “Take my arm, madam,” he said, in a stern and imperious tone, as he rose from the bench. “It is time we should hasten homeward.” “ No—I will not move until I have your re- sponse,” exclaimed Emma, passionately. ‘Then hear it, whatever be the consequences,” rejoined Loftus. “Your wiles—your arts—your fascinations are wasted upon me: I would sooner perish than prove unfaithful to her who possesses my love. Come, Miss Owen—I insist upon our im- | mediate departure hence.” Humiliated—baffled —disappointed—and almost crushed with the overpowering sense of shame, Emma saw that her seductive arts were indeed thrown away upon this well-principled young man; and mechanically taking his arm, she suffered him to lead her from the secluded avenue where the extraordinary scene just recorded had taken place. Not a word was now spoken between them: nor did Emma dare even to risk a furtive glance at his countenance, for fear he should observe that she thus regarded him. But there was in the depths of her soul the intuitive conviction that his looks were full of the expression of outraged feeling: and de- praved as she was in heart, she nevertheless deplored her folly in risking so consummate a humiliation, She was also racked by the torture of unappeasable desires: for although her conduct towards Jocelyn had commenced in artifice and duplicity, it had nevertheless acquired a certain amount of sincerity from the inspiration of her licentious passions. Thus the ardour of her language was not a together feigned: but it was created by the heart’s own incen- diarism of feelings, and not by the purer flame of love. In silence did they regain the hotel; and the mo- ment they entered the passage leading to the sitting- room, Jocelyn stopped short. “Miss Owen,” he said, *Ishall not betray toa living soul the particuags of the interview which has taken place between us, I will not add to your humiliation by publishing your shame. If your absence has been observed, I leave you to give what explanations you choose. But I must decline the honour of henceforth joining your party at table or elsewhere. If your sisters and yourself have any communication to make relative to the important subject which I need only thus allude to, it can be done in writing. But if I hear nothing from you in the course of this day, I shall to-morrow morning continue my journey—but alone—towards Italy: and her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales will be duly prepared to receive the spics whom her unprin- cipled husband has appointed to attend upon her.” Having thus spoken, Jocelyn Loftus bowed coldly and turned away: and Emma, who had listened with flushing cheeks, downeast eyes, and trembling form, hastened up to her own chamber to give vent to her agitated feelings in a flood of tears. On thus leaying the young lady, Jocelyn issued from the passage and passed into the court-yard of the hotel, for the purpose of seeking the coffee-room where he intended to take his breakfast. But he was accosted by an elderly, sour-looking French- man, plainly though by no means shabbily dressed, and the first glance of whose eyes seemed intended to pierce Loftus through and through. “JT beg yone pardon, sir,’ he began, politely rais- ing his hat; “but I wish to haye a word or two with you on business of importance.” THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. “We will inquire for a private room,’ said Jocelyn, not much liking the man’s appearance or mode of address, and having a vague and undefined suspicion of some impending treachery. “It is not worth while, sir,’ was the response. “Tn fact, I may as well inform you at once that I am a police-agent—and those persons,’ he added glancing over his shoulder towards two individuals, also in plain clothes, who were lounging under the gate-way, “are my comrades. You will have the goodness, sir, to accompany me to the Prefecture of — Police.” “For what purpose ?—and upon what charge 2?” demanded Loftus, indignantly. * Merely to give the Prefect some little explana- tions, sir,” replied the police-agent, “I dare say it will be all right: but you must come away at once.” * Allow me to visit my chamber for a moment,” said Loftus, “in order to fetch some papers and documents that I may require, to prove my re- spectability, if that be the point on which the Pre- fect demands information.” “Your papers are already in my possession, sir,” returned the police-agent, drily. “ What! you have dared violate the privacy of my writing-desk?” exclaimed Jocelyn, more indig- nantly than at first. “JT had my authority, sir,” was the cold and Ja- conic rejoinder. Jocelyn paused for a few moments: but well aware that the French police possessed extraordi- nary powers, and reflecting how useless it would be to defy them, he said, “I will accompany you.” The agent again raised his hat politely, and fol- lowed Loftus from the court-yard of the botel. On emerging into the street, they entered a hackney- coach that was ready Waiting at a little distance ; and the officer made a sign to his two men that they need not follow into the vehicle, as they were about to do. The hackney-coach rolled away along the Rue St. Honoré; and during its progress to the head- quarters of the police, Jocelyn endeavoured to glean from his companion a more special idea of the cause of the present proceeding. But the agent was so guarded in his replies that the young gentleman was left as much in the dark as he was before he put his queries—though, perhaps, his own conjectures furnished him with some faint glimmering of the real truth. In twenty-minutes the hackney-coach turned into the dark and gloomy gateway of the Prefec- ture; and Jocelyn was immediately conducted by the police-agent into the presence of an old gen- tleman, who was seated at a desk in a handsomely- furnished apartment. ‘This functionary was the Prefect of Police. “ Be seated,” he said in a courteous tone: and Jocelyn, as he took a chair, began to imagine that there was no treachery in contemplation after all. Meantime the police-agent had quitted the apartment: but returning in a few moments, he handed the Prefect a document which Jocelyn in- stantaneously recognised as his own passport, and which he had delivered to the landlord of the hotel, according to custom, on his arrival in Paris, “ You know this paper ?” said the Prefect, dis- playing it before Jocelyn’s eyes. “Ido, Itis my passport,” he replied. — ee eee {ECO AAH KS XOKO) SEO)