Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

162 THE CONFESSION OF A MAGDALEN, the war which had just burst out in Flanders obliged him to leave Paris, and I remained alone. My husband had a high position at court. I was young and beautiful, I wished to forget, I wished to deceive the imagination. I accepted every distraction which offered itself to me. I soon ob- tained influence and I made use of it. It was not long be- fore I loved or thought I loved. I made of my existence a whirlwind; I had every kind of success, I tasted every kind of pleasure; the women envied me, the men admired me, I was believed to be happy, and I was only mad. How many times have I not wept the whole night in my oratory, like a Magdalen at the feet of Christ! And then the next day there were fétes and follies. “Oh, my God!’’ said Genevieve, sobbing, ‘‘I tell you all, Jacques, and you will hate me, perhaps despise me. I curse that time of errors. If my blood could efface them, I would shed it drop by drop. Can it indeed be that J, the daughter of my sainted mother, have traversed such a route? My God! let me believe that you will pardon me; I only ask for a little of that pity which you have for the unfortunate,’’ said the duchess, taking Belle-Rose by the hands, ‘‘and though you should curse me, I will always bless you; yes, I will bless you because you have drawn me from that wretched life, because you have given me back love, youth, and faith; because you have made de- scend into my heart a ray of joy and purity, because I love you!”’ Genevieve covered Belle-Rose’s hand with tears and kisses. Belle-Rose softly withdrew it. ‘‘Pardon you!’’ said he; ‘‘Iam not your judge, and I cannot hate you.’’ Genevieve raised her arms to heaven. ‘Thanks, my God!’’ said she; ‘“‘he has not repulsed me.’’ ‘*You know,’’ she resumed, after a moment’s silence, ‘funder what circumstances [met you. You have handed me three letters from Monsieur d’Assonville at the little house in the Rue Cassette; one of these letters entreated ; the other implored and threatened at the same time; the last only contained menaces. ’”’ ‘‘And it is to the last one you have given way?’’ said Belle-Rose. ‘*You well know, Jacques,’’ replied the duchess, with an accent of pride, ‘‘that fear has no dominion over me. [ gave way to this letter, because between the first and the last, [had arranged everything for my interview with oS