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1She looked an old woman, but was young. Her manner was one of passionate grief; by turns she clasped her veinous and
2knotted hands together with wild energy, and laid one of them on the carriage-door--tenderly, caressingly, as if it had
3been a human breast, and could be expected to feel the appealing touch. "Monseigneur, hear me! Monseigneur, hear my
4petition! My husband died of want; so many die of want; so many more will die of want." "Again, well? Can I feed them?"
5"Monseigneur, the good God knows; but I don't ask it. My petition is, that a morsel of stone or wood, with my husband's
6name, may be placed over him to show where he lies. Otherwise, the place will be quickly forgotten, it will never be
7found when I am dead of the same malady, I shall be laid under some other heap of poor grass. Monseigneur, they are so
8many, they increase so fast, there is so much want. Monseigneur! Monseigneur!" The valet had put her away from the door,
9the carriage had broken into a brisk trot, the postilions had quickened the pace, she was left far behind, and
10Monseigneur, again escorted by the Furies, was rapidly diminishing the league or two of distance that remained between
11him and his chateau. The sweet scents of the summer night rose all around him, and rose, as the rain falls, impartially,
12on the dusty, ragged, and toil-worn group at the fountain not far away; to whom the mender of roads, with the aid of the
13blue cap without which he was nothing, still enlarged upon his man like a spectre, as long as they could bear it. By
14degrees, as they could bear no more, they dropped off one by one, and lights twinkled in little casements; which lights,
15as the casements darkened, and more stars came out, seemed to have shot up into the sky instead of having been
16extinguished. The shadow of a large high-roofed house, and of many over-hanging trees, was upon Monsieur the Marquis by
17that time; and the shadow was exchanged for the light of a flambeau, as his carriage stopped, and the great door of his
18chateau was opened to him. "Monsieur Charles, whom I expect; is he arrived from England?" "Monseigneur, not yet."
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