Angelot: A Story of the First EmpirePrice, Eleanor C. (Eleanor Catherine)
General
Angelot: A Story of the First Empire
Price, Eleanor C. (Eleanor Catherine)
Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction
"The wickedness of a wicked man is alone to be blamed for that," said
Anne. "Hélène's marriage with such an unspeakable wretch would have been
a worse thing still."
Urbain sighed, and did not answer. Presently, gazing into the fire,
while Anne watched him with intent, questioning eyes, he said, "It
appears that the Emperor is a little angry with Hervé for his hurried
action, though he does not object to its consequence, being good enough
to say that he values me and my influence in this country. But he does
not like to be treated as a tyrant. De Mauves thinks that Adélaïde will
not have the post of lady-in-waiting. It is a pity; she had set her
heart on it."
Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly; it was beyond her power, being a
truthful woman, to express any sympathy with Adélaïde. It was her
coldest little voice that said, "Have you been to Lancilly to-day?"
"Yes," her husband answered.
"Did you see Adélaïde?"
"No."
A bitter smile curled Anne's still beautiful mouth as she stood near his
chair and looked at him. Was it only or chiefly Adélaïde's unforgiving
anger that weighed on his broad shoulders, bent his clever brow, drove
the old contented smile from his face? True, Joseph's death might well
have done all this; but she knew Urbain, and he was not the man to cower
under the inevitable. It was his way to meet the blows of fate with a
brave front, if not a gay one; he was a Frenchman, and had lived and
laughed through the great Revolution. And yet Anne was puzzled; for she
respected Urbain too much to acknowledge that Adélaïde's anger could
have so great an effect upon him.
After a short silence he spoke, and told her all; told her of the
disappointment of his dearest hopes, the failure of the schemes and
struggles of a lifetime. And as he talked, Anne came gradually nearer,
till at last, with a most unusual demonstrativeness, her arm was round
his neck, and her cheek pressed against his whitening hair. Large tears
ran down the man's face and dropped across his wife's hand and splashed
on the tapestried arm of the chair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account