Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

158 THE CONFESSION OF A MAGDALEN. father was a Frondeur, and I did not dare to speak to him of this adventure, not having at that time a just idea of this war. Besides, the mystery of our interviews pleased my young imagination, and it was sweet to me to think that I was playing foran unhappy young officer the role of an assisting fairy. My mother, who was of a soft and timid character, and who would have revealed everything to-Monsieur de La Noue, of whom she was much afraid, knew nothing of all this affair. ‘‘Monsieur d’Assonville recovered. He was young, spiritual, and handsome; he loved me and I loved him. He was still languishing and weak when I already be- longed to him. Which of us was the most guilty—she who, still young and inexperienced, abandoned herself to the love of an unfortunate whom she had saved, or he who, of the innocent young girl, his host, and his protectress, made his mistress?’’ ‘‘Do not accuse the dead,’’ said Belle-Rose. ‘1 do not accuse, I relate. Soon, however,’’ continued Madame de Chateaufort, ‘‘Monsieur d’Assonville had to go away. The war and the opposing parties in which my father and he served banished every thought of marriage. At times he escaped and came to see me at the pavilion. How many days of gloom were these hours of intoxication to bring! Meanwhile my mother died, and the despair in- spired in me by this death revealed to me also that I was a mother.”’ As Genevieve spoke, two great tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘‘Poor woman!’’ murmured Belle-Rose. ‘Oh, yes! poor woman!’’ resumed Genevieve, ‘‘for what I was then, Ino longer am to-day, and whatI have be- come, I would not have been without that shame and that sorrow of my youth! The next day,’’ she continued, ‘‘I wrote to Monsieur d’Assonville; my letter remained un- answered; I wrote again, I wrote twenty times; silence and abandonment surrounded me; I believed that he had forgotten me, and had it not been for my child, I would have killed myself. I was then under the care of an aged aunt, my father’s sister, rough and severe like him. My nurse alone saw me weep and consoled me. There was then at the chateau a young Spaniard, related to meon my mother’s side, who had obtained a safe-conduct to visit France. My sadness astonished and afflicted him. I soon understood that he loved me; the unhappy have need. of affection, and I was profoundly grateful to him for all (E(0) = 1EbDoo Ss (