The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 5 of 5)Burney, Fanny
History
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 5 of 5)
Burney, Fanny
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Refugees -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Refugees -- Fiction; War stories
'Upon recovering, the first words that I heard were, "Look up, my child,
look up! we are alone!" and I beheld the unhappy Marchioness, whose face
seemed a living picture of commiserating woe. The commissary had been
forced away by a new express; but he had left a charge that I should be
ready to give my signature upon his return. The Marchioness then, with
expressions melting, at once, and exalting, condescended to pour forth
the most soothing acknowledgments; yet conjured me not to leave my own
purpose unanswered, by signing the promissory-note, till the Bishop
should be restored to liberty, with a passport, by which he might
instantly quit this spot of persecution. To find something was yet to be
done, and to be done for the Bishop, once more revived me; and when the
commissary re-entered the apartment, neither order nor menace could
intimidate me to take the pen, till my conditions were fulfilled. My
life, indeed, at that horrible period, had lost all value but what was
attached to the Bishop, the Marchioness, and my beloved Gabriella; for
myself, it seemed, thenceforth, reserved not for wretchedness, but
despair!
'The passport was soon prepared; but when the Bishop was brought in to
receive it in my presence, he rejected it, even with severity, till he
heard,--from myself heard!--that the marriage-ceremony, as it was
called! was already over. Into what a consternation was he then flung!
Pale grew his reverend visage, and his eyes glistened with tears. He
would not, however, render abortive the sacrifice which he could no
longer impede, and I signed the promissory-note; while the Marchioness
wept floods of tears upon my neck; and the Bishop, with a look of
anguish that rent my heart, waved, with speechless sorrow, his venerable
hand, in token of a blessing, over my head; and, deeply sighing,
silently departed.
'The commissary, forced immediately away, to transact some business with
his successor at this place, committed me to the charge of the mayor. I
was shewn to a sumptuous apartment; which I entered with a shuddering
dread that the gloomiest prison could scarcely have excited. The
Marchioness followed her brother; and I remained alone, trembling,
shaking, almost fainting at every sound, in a state of terrour and
misery indescribable. The commissary, however, returned not; and the
mayor, to whom my title of horrour was a title of respect, paid me
attentions of every sort.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account