From the Memoirs of a Minister of FranceWeyman, Stanley John
General
From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
Weyman, Stanley John
Biographical fiction; France -- Kings and rulers -- Fiction; Henry IV, King of France, 1553-1610 -- Fiction
In the case of a man I should have thought no punishment too severe,
and the utmost rigour of the law too tender for such perfidy; but as
she was a woman, and young, and under my wife's protection, I
hesitated. Finally, the Duchess interceding, I leaned to the side of
that mercy which the girl had not shown to her lover; and thought her
sufficiently punished, at the moment by the presence of Mademoiselle de
Figeac whom I called into the room to witness her humiliation, and in
the future by dismissal from my household. As this imported banishment
to her father's country-house, where her mother, a shrewd old
Bearnaise, saved pence and counted lentils into the soup, and saw
company once a quarter, I had perhaps reason to be content with her
chastisement.
For the rest I sent for M. de Vilain, and by finding him employment in
the finances, and interceding for him with the old Vicomte de Figeac,
confirmed him in the attachment he had begun to feel for me before this
unlucky event; nor do I doubt that I should have been able in time to
advance him to a post worthy of the talents I discerned in him. But,
alas, the deplorable crime, which so soon deprived me at one blow of my
master and of power, put an end to this, among other and greater
schemes.
VII.
THE GOVERNOR OF GUERET.
Without attaching to dreams greater importance than a prudent man will
always be willing to assign to the unknown and unintelligible, I have
been in the habit of reflecting on them; and have observed with some
curiosity that in these later years of my life, during which France has
enjoyed peace and comparative prosperity, my dreams have most often
reproduced the stormy rides and bivouacs of my youth, with all the
rough and bloody accompaniments which our day knows only by repute.
Considering these visions, and comparing my sleeping apathy with my
daylight reflections, I have been led to wonder at the power of habit;
which alone makes it possible for a man who has seen a dozen stricken
fields, and viewed, scarcely with emotion, the slaughter of a hundred
prisoners, to turn pale at the sight of a coach accident, and walk a
mile rather than see a rogue hang.
I am impelled to this train of thought by an adventure that befell me
in the summer of this year 1605; and which, as it seemed to me in the
happening to be rather an evil dream of old times than a waking episode
of these, may afford the reader some diversion, besides relieving the
necessary tedium of the thousand particulars of finance that render the
five farms a study of the utmost intricacy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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