Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 380: what you’re looking at

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

———— a ee ens = PiGUKWICK ABROAD. 367 if any one approached his couch, he instantly grasped that gold chain, and seemed fearful lest it should be taken from him. ) A month had passed away, and the Baron de Remonville’s lordly equipage stopped at the door of the dwelling where his intended vic- tim resided, She was already arrayed in her bridal garments; but beneath her vest, next her heart, was concealed a small bottle of poison. She had now nought to live for—nought to bind her to ex- istence. Her lover (of whose illness she knew not) had made no effort to see her: no letter from him had been received to console her. His infidelity was therefore, she thought, too apparent. He had forgotten her; and although the ceremony might be completed, the night, she was determined, should not witness the happiness of the Baron, for he would find her a corpse in the nuptial couch! Armed with the unnatural fortitude such resolutions gave her, she appeared in the apartment where her intended husband, her father, and a few friends of the Baron, were assembled. All were prepared to proceed to the Mazrie of the rrondissement, and conclude the civil portion of the ceremony. But the door was no sooner opened by the domestic to make way for the cavalcade, than a youth, pale, and with a haggard and wild glance, rushed into the room. ‘“* Rose—dear Rose !’”’ he exclaimed, and clasped her in his arms. ‘‘ Monsieur Archambault—this rudeness—” began the father, with anger depicted upon his countenance. “* Ah!” cried Eugene, now for the first time glancing at the white dress of Rose; “this 1s indeed providential! An hour ago only have i risen from the bed of sickness; and I am now in time to witness my adored one espouse another. O Rose—Rose!” “ Eugene—they compel me !’’ exclaimed the poor girl, clasping her hands together, and raising her beauteous blue eyes to heaven In the mean time Sevigne had despatched one of the Baron’s dcmes- tics to summon the aid of the police ; and I was called to remove the intruder. ‘“‘ Here is a Gendarme !”’ said the Baron. “Heavens! is that the bridegroom?” enquired Eugene, with a bitter smile; for in the Baron de Rémonville he recognised the stranger who had so earnestly tempted him to leave Paris. ‘ I refused your profiers with firmness,” continued Eugene, ‘“‘when I was in abject overty; and now that I am rich—” ‘Rich, Eugene!” ejaculated Rose, a slight hope for the first time awakening in her bosom. ‘““Yes—rich—rich !” shouted Eugene, wildly. “I have nches enough to tempt the avarice of every selfish father in France! Of all the estates in Germany, one of the finest belongs to me!”’ “* He has lost his reason, poor boy,” whispered Sevigne, in a com- passionate tone of voice, to the Baron de Remonville. “Mad! No—not I. Listen for a moment, and interrupt me not,” cried Archambault. I purchased a ticket in the German lottery for a vast estate: you doubtless know its description well. Yesterday I was lymg upon a sick bed, without the necessaries of life. IT had not bread to eat. This morning, the numbers, which had gained the prize, reached Paris; and at the moment whenI was pondering how to obtain a meal, my servant entered with the joyful tidings. That estate is mine !”’ EOMIEHOOKS (E) =