France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction
Whereupon two of the imperturbable lackeys, who had held their torches
throughout this exciting scene without moving a muscle, hastened off to
execute their master’s orders. Some of his own servants now came
forward, raised up the unconscious Duke of Vallombreuse with every
possible care and precaution, and by his father’s command carried him
to his own room and laid him on his own bed, the aged prince following,
with a face from which grief and anxiety had already driven away all
traces of anger. He saw his race extinct in the death of this son, whom
he so dearly loved—despite his fault—and whose vices he forgot for the
moment, remembering only his brilliant and lovable qualities. A
profound melancholy took complete possession of him, as he stood for a
few moments plunged in a sorrowful reverie that everybody respected.
Isabelle, entirely revived, and no longer feeling at all faint, had
risen to her feet, and now stood between de Sigognac and the tyrant,
adjusting, with a trembling hand, her disordered dress and dishevelled
hair. Lampourde and Scapin had retired to a little distance from them,
and held themselves modestly aloof, whilst the men within, still bound
hand and foot, kept as quiet as possible; fearful of their fate if
brought to the prince’s notice. At length that aged nobleman returned,
and breaking the terrible silence that had weighed upon all, said, in
severe tones, “Let all those who placed their services at the
disposition of the Duke of Vallombreuse, to aid him in indulging his
evil passions and committing a terrible crime, quit this château
instantly. I will refrain from placing you in the hands of the public
executioner, though you richly deserve it. Go now! vanish! get ye back
to your lairs! and rest assured that justice will not fail to overtake
you at last.”
These words were not complimentary, but the trembling offenders were
thankful to get off so easily, and the ruffians, whom Lampourde and
Scapin had unbound, followed Malartic down the stairs in silence,
without daring to claim their promised reward. When they had
disappeared, the prince advanced and took Isabelle by the hand, and
gently detaching her from the group of which she had formed a part, led
her over to where he had been standing, and kept her beside him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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