Tales and Stories: Now First CollectedShelley, Mary Wollstonecraft
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Tales and Stories: Now First Collected
Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft
English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
This act of violence on his part seemed the match to fire a train of
organized resistance to his authority, of which none had dreamt before.
Strangers from other cantons thronged into the valley; rustic labours
were cast aside; popular assemblies were held, and the peasants
exercised in the use of arms. One was coming to place himself at their
head, it was said, who had been a party in the tumults at Geneva. Louis
Chaumont was coming—the champion of liberty, the sworn enemy of M. de
Marville. The influence of his presence soon became manifest. The
inhabitants of the chateau were besieged. If one ventured beyond a
certain limit he was assailed. It was the resolve of Louis that all
within its walls should surrender themselves to his mercy. What that
might be, the proud curl of his lip and the fire that glanced from his
dark eyes rendered scarcely problematic. Fanny would not believe the
worst of her lover, but Monsieur and Madame de Marville, no longer
restrained by any delicacy, spoke of the leveller in unmeasured terms of
abhorrence, comparing him to the monsters who then reigned in France,
while the danger they incurred through him added a bitter sting to their
words. The peril grew each day; famine began to make its appearance in
the chateau; while the intelligence which some of the more friendly
peasants brought was indicative of preparations for a regular attack of
the most formidable nature. A summons at last came from the insurgents.
They were resolved to destroy the emblem of their slavery—the feudal
halls of their tyrants. They declared their intention of firing the
chateau the next day, and called on all within to deliver themselves up,
if they would not be buried in its ruins. They offered their lives and
free leave to depart to all, save the governor himself, who must place
himself unconditionally at the mercy of their leader. “The wretch,”
exclaimed his lady, “who thirsts for your blood! Fly! if there is yet
time for flight; we, you see, are safe. Fly! nor suffer these cruel
dastards to boast of having murdered you.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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