Women -- France -- Fiction; Women's rights -- Fiction
When the door opened again I saw a woman in a strange costume entering
with a confident step. It required an effort to keep my mind from
wandering, and to grasp what one of the Mauprats came and whispered to
me. In the middle of a wolf-hunt, at which several of the nobles in the
neighbourhood had been present with their wives, this young lady’s horse
had taken fright and bolted away from the rest of the field. When it had
pulled up after a gallop of about a league, she had tried to find her
way back; but, not knowing the Varenne district, where all the landmarks
are so much alike, she had gone farther and farther astray. The
storm and the advent of night had completed her perplexity. Laurence,
happening to meet her, had offered to escort her to the chateau of
Rochemaure, which, as a fact, was more than six leagues distant; but
he had declared that it was quite near, and had pretended to be the
gamekeeper there. She did not actually know the lady of Rochemaure, but
being a distant connection of hers, she counted upon a welcome. Never
having seen the face of a single Mauprat, and little dreaming that she
was so near their haunt, she had followed her guide confidingly; and as
she had never in her life caught a glimpse of Roche-Mauprat, whether in
the distance or close at hand, she was led upon the scene of our orgies
without having the least suspicion of the trap into which she had
fallen.
When I rubbed my heavy eyes and beheld this woman, so young and so
beautiful, with her expression of calm sincerity and of goodness, the
like of which I had never seen on the brow of any other (for all
those who had passed the portcullis of our abode were either insolent
prostitutes or stupid victims), I could not but think I was dreaming.
Remembering how prominently fairies figured in my legends of chivalry,
I almost fancied that Morgana or Urganda had come among us to administer
justice; and, for the moment, I felt an inclination to throw myself on
my knees and protest against any judgment which should confound me
with my uncles. Antony, to whom Laurence had quickly given the cue,
approached her with as much politeness as he had in his composition, and
begged her to excuse his hunting costume, likewise that of his friends.
They were all nephews or cousins of the lady of Rochemaure, whom they
were now awaiting before sitting down to table. Being very religious,
she was at present in the chapel, in pious conference with the chaplain.
The air of simple confidence with which the stranger listened to these
absurd lies went to my heart, but I had not a very clear idea of what I
felt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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