The Huguenot: A Tale of the French Protestants. Volumes I-IIIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
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The Huguenot: A Tale of the French Protestants. Volumes I-III
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Huguenots -- Fiction
Taking out of the small ebony box which was now presented to him, a
little case, containing a very handsome pair of diamond ear-rings, the
King placed it in the hands of the young Count, saying, "There,
Monsieur de Morseiul, be my messenger to the fair lady. Give her those
jewels from the King; and tell her, that I hope ere long she will be
qualified to draw prizes in some not very distant lottery by appearing
as one of the married ladies of our court. She has tortured all our
gallant gentlemen's hearts too long, and we will not suffer our
subjects to be thus ill treated. Do you stay in Paris all day,
Monsieur de Morseiul, or do you come here to witness the new opera?"
"I did not propose to do either, Sire," replied the Count: "I had, in
fact, engaged myself to pass another pleasant evening at the house of
Monsieur de Meaux."
"Indeed!" said the King, evidently well pleased. "That is all as it
should be. I cannot but think, Monsieur de Morseiul, that if you pass
many more evenings so well, either you will convert Monsieur de
Meaux--which God forbid, or Monsieur de Meaux will convert you--which
God grant."
The Count bowed gravely; and, as the King turned to speak with some
one else who was giving him a part of his dress, the young nobleman
took it as a permission to retire; and, mounting his horse, which had
been kept ready saddled, he made the best of his way towards the
capital.
That gay world, with its continual motion, was as animated then as
now. Though the abode of the court was at Versailles, yet the distance
was too small to make the portion of the population absolutely
withdrawn from the metropolis at all important while all the other
great bodies of the kingdom assembled, or were represented there.
Thousands on thousands were hurrying through the streets; the same
trades and occupations were going on then as now, with only this
difference, that, at that period, luxury, and industry, and every
productive art had reached, if not its highest, at least its most
flourishing point; and all things presented, even down to the aspect
of the city itself, that hollow splendour, that tinselled
magnificence, that artificial excitement, that insecure prosperity,
the falseness of all and each of which had afterwards to be proved,
and which entailed a long period of fresh errors, bitter repentance,
and terrible atonement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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