The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 263: what you’re looking at

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252 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. hood of which De Margaux was at the time making friends with the strollers: bat the con- atable was assured that no person at all answer- ing the felon’s description had been seen in the place. Meanwhile the drugged sentinel was restored to consciousness; and the luckless Finette—amidset tdrrents of tears and agonized appeals for pardon —confessed all the details of her connivance in the prisoner's escape. By ber father she was over- whelmed with reproaches: the sentinel to whom she had given the drugged brandy, upbraided her with an almost equal bitterness: her sire’s brother- turnkeys were scarcely less warm in the expression ef their sentiments. The unhappy girl was quickly rescued from her infatuation with reference to De Margaux. She now learnt that he himself was in reality a murderer—that there could be no possible mistake on the subject, for that Dame Roquette had that very evening made the fullest and most ample revelations to the gaol-chaplain. The con- viction was forced upon Finette, too, that De Mar. gaux was an accomplished deceiver—that his tales of buried treasure and of an Alpine villa were all utterly false—and that he had imposed upon her credulity in every possible way in order to further his own ends. The girl was plunged into the very abyss of mental wretchedness: she was shocked at her own foolish infatuation; and being far from deficient in good principle at the bottom of all her giddiness, she was ready to die with shame, as well as to sink beneath the upbraidings of those by whom she was surrounded. It was necessary to make an immediate report to the governor of the gaol, who at the time was sleeping soundly in his bed; and this fanctionary was seized with a violent rage. Finette’s father had obtained a half-holiday on the understanding that he was to return to his quarters at eight o'clock that evening: his dereliction of duty was therefore discovered; and the governor failed fiot to reproach him with the fact that if he had ad. hered to the rules of the prison, his daughter could not have found an opportunity to carry out her de- signs. The consequence was that in the morning Finette’s father received his dismissal, accompanied with an intimation on the part of the police that he ‘had better get out of the town with the least possible delay, if he were desirous to avoid a still more rigorous chastisement, This hurricane of calamities well nigh broke poor Finette’s heart. Her aunt—to whom a fly- ing visit was paid as she accompanied her father from the town—read her the severest lecture for the mingled folly and wickedness of which she had been guilty, and positively refused to give her an asylum while her father sought for employment elsewhere. The ex-turnkey was accordingly com- pelled to take his daughter with him: and as he had a brother who was comfortably settled as a draper in a town about cighty miles distant, he re- solved to proceed thither in the hope that some- thing might be done for him. He possessed some little savings, to the extent of eighteen or twenty pounds, speaking in English money: and thus he was not as yet compelled to look absolute poverty in the face. In the rotonde, or cheapest part of the diligence (stage-coach), the ex-turnkey and Finette took their places for the town to which we have just alluded. Unfortunately for the poor girl, they were the only travellers in that division of the vehicle ; and thus her father failed not to continue his upbraidings as they journeyed onward. Fi- nette wept bitterly: she over and over again avowed all her folly and wickedness, and besought her sire’s pardon. But he was'one of those men who could not be very easily appeased, and who in any case must give the fullest vent to their ill- humour before the word “ pardon ” could possibly eacape their lips. At length the ex-turnkey talked himself off to sleep; and Finette sat pensive and miserable, looking listlesaly from the window of the At one of the post-houses where the coach stopped to change horses—and while her father continued to sleep soundly—Finette’s eyes settled upon a placard posted against the wall immediately opposite the window of the diligence. She be- held the name of De Margaux: she read the placard : it offered a reward of a thousand francs (forty pounds sterling) for the apprehension of the escaped prisoner. The contents of this bill put Hinette’s feelings to a new and final test: such an impulse was given to her thoughts that she now unmistakably comprehended whether there were any lingering remnant of the late in- fatuation in her soul—or whether her love hed turned to hatred. She understood likewise whe- ther, if De Margaux suddenly appeared before her, even with veritable proofs of his buried trea- sure and of his Alpize villa, she would flee away with him to share his riches,—or whether she would remain with her sire, to endure his upbraidings as often as the humour for venting them might take possession of him. The diligence continued its way, and Finette shed no more tears—but remained plunged in deep and gloomy meditation, until her father woke up and renewed his reproaches. Finette listened to them in silence: she no longer entreated his forgiveness—there was even something dull and apathetic in the appearance of the young girl. Her father deemed her indifferent to the calamities which had overtaken him; and he redoubled his upbraidings. Still Finette said nothing; and again did the ex-turnkey talk till he was tirec—so that relapsing into slamber, he slept for the last three or four hours of the journey. The night was setting in when the diligence evtered tho town hich was the destination of Finette and her father. It was too late for them to call on their relation until the mo-row; and they therefore took up their quarters et a small inn—or rather public-house, in the neighbourhood of the office where the coach stopped. In the morning the ex-tarnkey set out to proceed alone, in the first instance, to his brother's: but on ar- riving at the house he found that its master had gone on the preceding day to Paris, where he was likely to be detained for a week. The draper was an unmarried man, and had left his little establish- ment in the charge of a clerk; so that the erx- turnkey could not even obtain an asylum at the house until his brother’s return. As the reader may suppose, he retraced his way to the tavern in no very enviable humour, and fully prepared to vent all bis voxation upon the head of poor inette, GORMGOOOKS (CO