The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin (Louis XVII)Pardo Bazán, Emilia, condesa de
General
The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin (Louis XVII)
Pardo Bazán, Emilia, condesa de
Louis XVII, of France, 1785-1795 -- Fiction
Volpetti looked disappointed. He disliked violent measures. In choicest
German and softest voice he sought to persuade me. My head turned to the
wall, I made no further answer. Then, slowly approaching the door, he
gave an order, whereupon two muscular brutes entered. Supposing they
were my murderers, I delivered my soul to God and spoke three names--my
mother's, Marie's and--O Thérèse, yours!
The ruffians dragged me from my wretched bed, bound me with cords which
cut into my flesh and tied me in a rough chair. I thought they were
preparing to torture me and in terror I shrieked:
"Unbind me! I consent."
Volpetti approached, saying:
"Do you wish to be released?"
My pride flared up and I disdained to answer.
Then they gagged me and passed over my face an instrument which seemed
to riddle the flesh with sharp needles. I tried to cry out and break the
cords, whereupon one of the fellows thrust his iron fingers, like
pincers, into my side. The violent pressure caused a swoon. When I
recovered consciousness, a great heat overpowered me, for my torturers
were moistening my face with a liquid which stung fiercely. I swooned
again from the intense pain.
On awakening, I carried my hand to my eyes but failed to find them. I
touched, instead, two lumps of swollen, throbbing flesh. I lay on a
filthy bed, freed from the cords. Some one gave me a plate of broth
which I managed to swallow. I asked my jailor if it was dawn.
"The noon sun shines brightly," he answered.
"I am blind!" I wailed. At that moment the concept of Expiation broke
upon my mind,--the heinous sins which my suffering was effacing.
"Bring me some warm water," I entreated. The man brought it and, after
applying it to my face, I fell asleep.
Chapter VII
THE BLACK HOLE
I lived in darkness for two weeks. Then the inflammation began to
subside and a ray of light penetrated my eyes and heart and I wept in
gratitude for the joy of looking upon the filthy walls of my dungeon. I
started in horror upon beholding in one of the window panes the image of
my distorted and swollen face. I realized that an attempt had been made
to efface all vestige of lineage from my countenance. But with the
passing of time much of the disfigurement disappeared.
One morning soldiers entered my cell and carried me into a close
carriage, which, after several hours of travel, stopped before that grim
fortress whose very name freezes the blood,--Vincennes.
It had been decreed by my captors that I should here end my days. But
what of the creole, my protectress? She was living her days of
brilliancy. The Empire--such an Empire!--was being hatched amid the
folds of the Consulate. The creole was absorbed by one great fear,--the
fear of failing to furnish an heir to that adumbrating Empire. Thérèse,
let us smile together at the endurance of thrones. Why, a crown scarcely
seems worth the commission of a crime. It cannot even bring sleep to
eyes that stare widely during whole nights.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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