The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Lewis Wingfield

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  A PASSAGE OF ARMS.

  Mademoiselle Algae Brunelle was not on a bed of roses, and her growingimpatience took the form of tartness. If Clovis could have looked onhis affinity in his absence her prospects of becoming some dayMarquise de Gange might have been less promising. In truth, she wasvery cross, and took no trouble to conceal her mood from Pharamond orPhebus. It was not her fault, but that of the silly Bertrand, that thecakes should have had a metallic flavour. She therefore soundly ratedthat worthy for his clumsiness, and threatened him with pains andpenalties. The chef glanced at her with two pig's-eyes set closetogether, and replied, "I was engaged in Paris by Monsieur l'Abbe, notby mademoiselle, who should undertake her dirty work herself." He hadno personal feeling against the recluse upstairs, but man must live,and with the present he was to receive he intended to escape from theFrench caldron, and make up for a trifling lapsus in another land by afuture of exemplary virtue.

  Energetic mademoiselle was all for taking the bull by the horns andacting with decision. Why beat about the bush in this provoking way,she argued, since the chatelaine was completely in their power? Thedomestics were the abbe's creatures, drafted one by one, and droppedeach into his place. Madame de Vaux and Angelique were too muchalarmed to leave their own precincts; and now that the marquis wasgone, the old gentleman had no motive for ambling over from Montbazon,since he had never understood Gabrielle, and instinctively dislikedthe brothers. He was grateful to Algae in that matter of the sciaticnerve, but it was not his place as a seigneur to make morning calls ona dependant. To prevent prying from without, it was easy to spread areport that Madame la Marquise de Gange had been attacked by typhusfever. The rustics of Touraine had a wholesome dread of the disease.Madame had none on whom she could rely except her faithful abigail.Would it not be the most natural thing in the world if the devotedfoster-sister were likewise to succumb to the malady? There wasnothing whatever to stop the prosecution of their plans, and it haslong been an axiom that what has to be done is best done quickly.There was nothing to cause the delay but the abbe's tortuous method.It is said that each of us has been an animal in a previous phase, andthat a shade of likeness, physical or moral, or both, yet clings to usin this. Mademoiselle was convinced that in his last existence theabbe had been a serpent. It was his nature to wriggle and twist, andhe could not for the life of him move straight. If he beheld a doveupon a branch he must needs coil himself elaborately to fascinate it,instead of protruding a tongue and gobbling it up at once.

  These and other views, did she propound to Pharamond, marching up anddown the room as her wont was, when much in earnest, with elephantinetread, while the chevalier blinked at her in fear. A wonderful woman,an awful and terrible woman! It was not surprising that Clovis shouldhave sunk under her thrall. She dared to beard, and even flout thestill more awful Pharamond, and the two crossed swords sometimes withsuch a clash of arms that Phebus shivered in alarm. What two suchstrong ones willed, would certainly take place. No doubt about it. Thepoor thing upstairs was doomed. No effort that he, Phebus, could make,might stay her doom. Why, then, make any effort? He could only shedmaudlin tears and wish her well through her misery. He quite agreedwith Algae, that the inevitable should take place at once.

  Now lecturing and advice that looked too like command, was by no meanspalatable to Pharamond, and he had much ado to maintain the suavity ofhis temper. The idea of typhus was not bad, but it would entailcertain consequences. Nearly everybody at this time, both in Franceand England, was seamed with smallpox, and dreadful as the scourgewas, familiarity had paled its terrors. The report of a spread oftyphus, on the other hand, was enough to depopulate a district.Happily, since the period which occupies us, advancing science hasdone much to mitigate its horrors, but in the eighteenth century, thesickening details of its course were enough to appal the bravest. TheMarquise de Gange and her abigail having succumbed to the scourge, theinmates of the chateau must flee, or endure ostracism--they would bebanned like lepers.

  Though by the terms of the new will, the marquis would quietlyinherit, it would not do for him and his brothers, after assisting ata typhus deathbed, to stay at Blois to transact necessary business.Unluckily the unstable legatee could not be trusted to do muchunaided. As had been decided he was to raise money on hisexpectations, sufficient to waft the party to Geneva, and keep them inproper style during tedious but necessary negociations. It wasobvious, therefore, that mademoiselle's impatience was vexatious andill-advised. When Clovis wrote to say that the sum was raised, thenthey would perform their one act drama, and, bowing, retire behind thescenes.

  "Surely there ought to be no difficulty about raising the necessarysum," grumbled Algae, with arms crossed, and moody brow. "Clovis is soreprehensibly tardy. What can he be doing all this while! I would havesettled the matter myself in half-an-hour, if the mission could havebeen confided to me."

  Phebus blinked more than usual. Oh! A wonderful woman, who appeared tohim as a vision of fate in a violent hurry. Could she who had beensprightly and kittenish, be so athirst for another woman's blood?

  "You deem yourself vastly clever," sneered Pharamond, waxing wroth."Can you not remember that every mistake has been due to yourstupidity? Half-an-hour, forsooth! Do you not know that bullion is asrare a commodity as diamonds? that to refuse payment in assignats isto risk the guillotine, and that beyond the border, such things arebut dirty paper? A pretty figure we should cut if we rattled into thecourtyard of the Etoile d'Or, and attempted to pay the Swisspostilions with dead leaves! One cannot, of course, expect commonsense from a woman, any more than grapes from thistles. Your querulousimportunity is wearying. You must keep your promise and be content tobe led by me."

  Even Pharamond was disconcerted, and Phebus cowered, when Algae dashedinto the breakfast-room one day like a whirlwind, her eyes aflame, herdusky visage black with fury. She moved swiftly up and down, unable toarticulate, upsetting the chairs in her career. What could havehappened to enrage her thus? Verily, she was becoming a deplorable,insufferable nuisance, and it would be well to make an end of it.

  "Patience," she blurted out at last, thumping into her accustomedseat, and scattering the glasses. "You never weary of exhorting me topatience. Perhaps you will yourself remember the elementary fact thatevents will not stand still while you are parleying."

  "What now?" Pharamond asked calmly.

  "This now," retorted mademoiselle. "The Marechale de Breze has justarrived with an army of domestics, and is closeted upstairs with herdaughter."

  This was news; unwelcome and unexpected news. Had the old lady arrivedon an errand similar to that of the family solicitor? Hardly. IfGabrielle had again secretly sought protection, M. Galland would havecome himself. And an army of servants, too! Servants are argus-eyedand uncharitable in their conclusions. These people could not bewheedled or cajoled like those selected by the abbe. Algae's wrath,though coarsely expressed, was justified. The irruption of a foreignelement, just at this juncture, was unfortunate.

  "We must frighten them away," Pharamond observed, quietly peeling apear.

  Mademoiselle snorted in scorn, while the abbe sat wrapped in thought.Why was the marechale here now? Had anything fresh occurred in Paris,which had impelled flight? If that had been so, she would not havetravelled with a retinue. She was timid and nervous, and fearful ofbandits on the road. She could scarcely have been summoned byGabrielle, since the latter had no suspicion of the cakes. Pharamondhad satisfied himself of that, by knocking humbly and inserting ahead, while ostentatiously remaining on the threshold. "Pardon myintrusion," he had meekly purred, "but anxiety compels me to ask afteryour health. In Clovis's absence I feel responsible. Tell me that youhave recovered, as I have, from the untoward incident due to a stupidcook?"

  Gabrielle politely declared herself to be well, deplored the abbe'sillness, and intimated with a slight inclination that the interviewwas over. Chilly, not to say icy. But there was no symptom
ofsuspicion in her clear blue eyes. She declined to say more than wasnecessary to a man whom she detested, that was all. But Toinon, theabbe was convinced, knew all about it. Why had she kept her knowledgefrom her mistress? What had she done with the parcel? She had allowedhim clearly to understand, that she was not taken in by his comedy.Did she not always make a parade, to the scandal of the household, ofhaving every article tasted that was to be consumed by her mistress orherself?

  He had seen her wrap up the cakes which the dog had not devoured--towhat end? It would be well to have those cakes and to destroy them;was it worth the trouble of finding and purloining them? It had beengenerally admitted that through carelessness there had been anaccident which was not followed by a fatal result. In every householdsuch accidents occur since the culinary genius is not infallible. Werethe things to be analysed, it might transpire that the quantity ofverdigris or subacetate on the copper plate had been excessive, sogreat as to look like deliberate purpose. Did Toinon propose to open ajudicial inquiry under the presidency of Madame La Marechale; produceher _pieces de conviction_; accuse a respectable ghostly man ofattempted murder? The idea was so ludicrous that Pharamond laughedaloud. Let her do as she liked. Bother the cakes! The inquiry would bevery funny. He quite hoped that she would ventilate her suspicions forthe amusement of the assembled household, and give him the chance ofvictory.

  It behoved a son of the Church, brought up in a good school, to paydue and ceremonious respect to the mother of their chatelaine. Heaccordingly indited a sweet note expressive of joyous surprise, andrequesting the honour of an interview.

  Gabrielle was about to seize the note and tear it into fragments, butthe hand impulsively raised fell by her side, and the words she wouldhave spoken died upon her lips. Why worry the venerable dame with herown peck of troubles? She had gone through such paroxysms of terror onthe journey that she was still all of a twitter. "You've not thesmallest idea! My pet--" she began in her high treble, "what thevillages and towns were like. Where such crowds of forbiddingtatterdemalions could have sprung from I cannot understand. And whenthey saw my coach and armed servants, they pursued us with yells andstones, actually flints! A sharp one nearly struck me in the face. Iwas so indignant that I felt inclined to stop and say, 'You curs! Doyou know I am the widow of one who spilt his best blood for hiscountry and his king?' but now I am rather glad I did not."

  "Dearest mother!" the marquise murmured, clasping the old lady to herbosom, "I am so glad you did not! Alas! even to name our martyr kingis to rouse a volley of curses."

  And then the old lady, enchanted to have found a listener who wouldnot interrupt her flow, gabbled on interminably about the condition ofthe capital. Before daring to decide on a journey she had called ingood M. Galland who, contrary to her own views, had considered it anadmirable suggestion that the mother should visit the daughter. "If Ihad known all, wild horses would not have moved me. The threateningattitude of your rustics is more menacing than our mob at home." Shefailed to add that as she rarely stepped outside the door, she knewbut little of the Paris rabble.

  "The abbe--how nice it must be to have him," she went off at atangent. "A most engaging man. I remember that when he visited usin Paris I said to your dear father--ah, deary me--he's with theblessed--that it was a miracle to find such breeding in a provincial.You must excuse me, pet, if I seem rude to your husband's brother, buthe was brought up in the south somewhere, he told me, where theycannot be expected to assume the polish of the capital. Well, well--hemust be a very clever and cultivated man as well as a most delightfulone!"

  How could the marquise divulge what she knew of the abbe to thisgarrulous and purblind old woman? Toinon, who hung about the room andknew more than did her mistress could scarce contain herself. Had itbeen worth while to summon such a silly harridan? Her contingent ofdomestics, however, was a safeguard, during whose stay a taster couldbe dispensed with. Suffice it, she was here, and must be detained aslong as possible, though she always detested Lorge. Toinon had made upher mind what steps she intended to take--the very steps which theabbe had guessed. She intended formally to impeach the abbe andMademoiselle Brunelle; to unveil the past and the present for theshocked old lady's benefit, and solemnly adjure her on her return tothe capital, to take steps for her daughter's safety, or make up hermind till her dying day to be persecuted by vengeful ghosts. In faceof such an impeachment, and on the production of the cakes, the guiltyabbe would quail. At any rate, his claws would be cut, so far asextreme measures were concerned.

  The reception of the brothers by the marechale was most cordial. Thechevalier quite won her heart, for his watery gaze would remain fixedon her for hours, while, knitting in hand, she furbished up for himthe legends of the chateau. He was like a wistful eyed, cosy,lapdog--with an ever-wagging tail. If he spoke little, he was anexcellent listener, and when she grew weary of chattering, the abbecould talk enough for both. On the whole, much as she disliked theplace, she was quite glad to have come, for the house in the suburbsof Paris was deadly dull; there was no society at present, since herold friends were in prison or had emigrated.

  It was charming, too, with Gabrielle and the cherubs, to forget thehurly-burly of the Revolution. The perfect peace and majestic reposeof the chateau were soothing to the nerves, while there was sufficientliveliness to prevent boredom. There never was so attentive a cavalieras that delightful abbe who seemed to guess everything by intuition.Was she chilly, the devoted soul was sure to come round the corner inanswer to a wish, armed with a wrap and an umbrella. For her heselected the choicest pears and apples at breakfast, inditedcomplimentary sonnets--as though she were not silver-haired andwrinkled. As the evenings were drawing in he would improvise games andpastimes to pass the hours in which the children could join, and madehimself so agreeable to all that the guest was enchanted. "Really,pet, it is quite arcadian," the worthy dame would remark to herdaughter. "I'd no notion this horrid place could be made so nice. Ican imagine myself at Trianon again in the good old days. Ah, well,well, well!" And then with a big sigh she would burst into tears,remembering what had been and what was.

  The individual who did not at all appreciate the sudden _volte-face_was, as may be imagined, Mademoiselle Brunelle. Fortune was in anelfish mood. For her mother's sake the marquise had tacitly permittedthe brothers to resume the place they had once occupied, promisingherself--when the visit was over--to hold them at arms' length again;but with Algae it was different. On no pretence could she be permittedto join the circle. Indeed, it was hinted to her in a politely wordednote that she was delaying her departure over long.

  The abbe had declared that the marplot must be frightened away, andyet he was sparing no pains to make the visit pleasant. It was evidentthat he and his brother avoided their ally lest she should fall onthem with just upbraiding. If she beheld them in the distance, it wasbut to see them whisking round a corner. Oblivious of feelings she wasleft alone to brood and mope; her meals were served apart as thoughshe were infectious; and now she had received the curtest of summonsesto make herself scarce forthwith. Oh! how she hated the lot of them!

  In truth she was in a dilemma, and did not know what to do. Clovis hadbeen got rid of while something was being done which might revolt hissqueamish nature; and though he said nothing, she was certain that hehad more than a vague suspicion of what was going forward. Butsupposing that nothing were to take place after all? Supposing thatwhen he had raised the necessary sum, and called on the others to joinhim, they were to do so, and cross the frontier, leaving Gabriellebehind? What he was able to raise could not be very much, and onecannot live in luxury at Geneva or elsewhere on expectations. Theywould have to report that the marquise was charming well, instead ofdead, and that, unmolested, she might live on for years. Why shouldshe not, in their absence, make another will, or a dozen others,whereby even the shadowy expectations would be reduced to thinnestair?

  Was the abbe scheming to gain time? It struck Algae with a gush ofimpotent wrath that perchance the coming of the marecha
le had been hisown device, arranged so as to tide over the days until mademoiselleshould have no excuse for lingering, that he might then have theheiress to himself! Perhaps his recently developed hatred of her was asnare to deceive the governess? If it turned out that this was so,what course would it behove her to pursue? Should she seem to accepther fate, drive quietly away, and joining Clovis, unfold themachinations of his brother? Would Clovis believe, and if he did, howwould he act--he who had fullest confidence in his brother? Were thesuspicions that racked her justified or not? Meanwhile, she wastreated like a social Pariah, and the precious hours waned.

  The abbe guessed her thoughts, and laughed. Women are so nimble wittedthat when they enter the labyrinth of scheming they frequently wandertoo far and lose themselves. Pharamond was quite as anxious to be ridof the old lady as the younger one could be, but he was far-seeing andcautious, while his coadjutor was culpably impatient.

  It was one night when the family sat at supper in the boudoir thatToinon struck her blow. There had been a splendid bout of blind man'sbuff in the grand saloon. The cherubs had been seized by Toinon andcarried off to bed, flushed, out of breath, and happy. The pursychevalier, who had been very active, puffed and blew, and looked liketo have a fit. Madame la Marechale had been frisking after a fashionthat surprised herself. The abbe mopped his face with a daintykerchief, and flung himself at Gabrielle's feet, as in the departeddays.

  "You are our prisoner, marechale," he cried gaily--"a prisoner forlife in this ancient fortress, and shall never go hence alive. You addsuch a charm to our circle that we positively can't do without you. Isit not so, dear Gabrielle? Tell our mother that she is here for good."

  Pharamond glanced up, with a yellow light glinting through half-closedlids, and lips drawn tightly over teeth: attitude and expressionrecalled vividly scenes she would gladly have forgotten, andGabrielle, she knew not why, was frightened.

  Toinon, re-entering, marked his familiar gesture and her lady's fear,and her gorge rose till she felt choking. A venomous, slimy snake wascoiling itself about the feet of the marquise, fouling her with itstainted breath. The abnormal, loathsome reptile! Was he slowly toenwrap her in his glittering coils and crush her bones, while Toinonstood by, unaiding? Her brain in a whirl of indignation, the abigailblurted out, "For good or evil, which? You dare not poison _her_--thatis a comfort--lest her domestics should report the fact."

  The suddenness of the attack startled even Pharamond, while themarechale stared bewildered, and Gabrielle turned a shade morepale. With anxious and surprised inquiry the marquise gazed at herfoster-sister. What was this? Full well she knew of what the abbe wascapable, and that her maid would not bring false charges.

  The ice broken, Toinon felt better, refreshed as by a douche ofwater. Leaning against the door, hands firmly planted upon hips, sheturned to the amazed marechale and plainly told her tale. She told ofthe marquise's symptoms, of her own suspicion but too soon verified;of how she had found Jean's dog stretched dead upon the floor, with agreen liquor running from its mouth; how by prompt action she hadsaved her mistress, who had luckily taken but a mouthful; how she hadfound the abbe in perfect health some hours after (if his tale weretrue), he had swallowed a strong dose of poison; how she, Toinon, hadthen sent for Madame de Breze, that in the future she might shield herdaughter.

  Never in her whole life before had the poor old woman been placedin a position of responsibility, and she could only murmur in angryfear--"Why me--why send for me?" Indeed she was a ludicrous example ofthe broken reed, and the abbe waved airy thanks to Toinon with whitefingers, in that she was so kindly playing into his hands.

  "Why, indeed," he echoed, "if half were true of what that naughty minxaccuses me. I poison our darling Gabrielle! The idea would beintensely comic if it were not offensive. It is a fact, madame, ofwhich Gabrielle is well aware, that an accident occurred, owing to ascullion's carelessness. I myself nearly succumbed, for I had adesperate battle for life, and when I recovered, sent up a hymn ofthanks to Heaven in that Gabrielle should have but suffered slightly."

  "You knew so little of your poison that you assumed wrong symptoms!"remarked Toinon, in disdain.

  "Not so. It is you who know not the poison," retorted Pharamond, witha malignant flash that was instantly suppressed. "Spite and fatuousignorance misled you. The symptoms vary according to quantity imbibed.I unluckily ate a cake and half before I was aware of anythingpeculiar, and any doctor will tell you that whereas a small dose ofsubacetate of copper will produce coma, a large one will bring aboutgriping pains and tetanic convulsions, which, without aid from above,lead to paralysis and death."

  "A large dose acts on the system quickly--within an hour," scoffed theabigail. "When I told you that the cakes were poisoned you were inperfect health."

  "I had but just partaken----"

  "A clumsy liar! I asked Bertrand if he had more of his confectionery,and he answered with a searching look of suspicious inquiry that allhe had made were served to the marquise."

  "Upon my word, the wench is very erudite," laughed the abbe, lightly."How come you to know so much?"

  "There was an ancient book on poisons in the library. I turned up thearticle 'Copper,' and studied it."

  "Was?"

  "Yes, was. The book is hidden now where you will never find it."

  There was a pause, during which the combatants studied each otherwarily. Then the abbe, shrugging his shoulders, in disgust drawledout, "Have we not had enough of this low comedy?"

  "I ascertained," pursued the undaunted maiden, "that the necessaryquantity of verdigris so to affect one little cake out of many asalmost to produce coma in one who had taken a single bite must be solarge that a copper cooking-plate would have to be thickly butteredwith it. Now Bertrand excused himself on the plea that the plate inuse was found to be 'not quite clean.' If he had buttered it then wasyour 'accident' not due to inadvertence."

  "What proof have you that the cakes were so heavily loaded?"

  "The fact that the dog died within half-an-hour; that I retained twowhich I intend presenting to madame that she may have them analysed inParis."

  "A pretty story, ingenious as wicked. No one saw the dog perish butyourself. What evidence is there, except your own, that the cakes inyour possession are in the same condition as when placed on the table?Are you sure you have any cakes at all?"

  There was such an air of mischievous satisfaction underlying the toneof banter that Toinon's heart stood still. "How are you sure--" shebegan, then sped swiftly from the room, to return in a few momentswhite as a sheet and breathless.

  "They are gone," she panted, "gone! You discovered where they wereconcealed, you wicked man, and have destroyed them!"

  The abbe rose leisurely from the floor and broke into a shout oflaughter. "Dear ladies," he apologised, "you must forgive so vulgar adisplay of merriment, but the jest is too, too good. What subtleforms, nowadays, will not the malice of the enemy assume! Unfortunatenoblesse! Unjust and cruel age! The inscrutable powers permit us to behauled to prison, conducted to the shambles, but allow us to leave theworld with characters unstained. The mob would trump up chargesagainst us now to justify their deeds; but the charges are so shallowand so foolish that they defeat their ends. Poisoned cakes! Pah!Unhappy girl, you who have received a superior education should havesoared above such folly. It was the rumour that spread from Parisabout the king and queen and the poisoned food at the Tuileries thatput this absurd notion in your head. Madame de Breze, I grieve that sountoward an incident as this should have occurred during your stayamong us, which we have all striven to make a pleasant one. We havekept it from you, but it is true, to our misfortune, that the spiritof the province is menacing. There is nothing that the peasants willnot believe against an aristo. If you sallied forth and announced thatI, the Abbe Pharamond, am specially partial to boiled baby, served_aux choux_, there is not one who would not believe you. This girl isbetrothed to Jean Boulot, the gamekeeper, who deliberately left arespectable service to make himself
notorious at Blois as the mostrabid of all the Jacobins, and it is obvious that she acts now underhis influence, regardless of long service under the marquise and ofthe many benefits received. Alack! the ingratitude of those who rendthe hand that caresses them is very hard to bear."

  "Madame, you do not believe him?" cried Toinon, throwing herself atGabrielle's feet and anxiously searching her face. "You know that theman is lying!"

  "Yes, I know," Gabrielle whispered as she bent to kiss her brow. "Iknow you have spoken truth, but we are powerless."

  She leaned back, supporting her head wearily upon her arm, perfectlycomposed in demeanour, while Toinon, her face buried in her lap,sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

  The aged Madame de Breze turned from one to the other of the group,utterly mystified, with a growing grudge against some one, at presentshe could not tell whom. A gulf had suddenly yawned in front, and fromits depths arose a faint sickening fume of death. Although she had afoot in the grave she mightily objected to the smell of death. Whichof these two spoke truth? The dear delightful abbe could not have--oh,no, that was absurd and ridiculous, and yet why should Gabrielle sitso stonily with that woful look of pain? It was plainly her place torise up and take his part, exonerate him at once from even theslightest shadow of this dreadful thing; at least to declare herconviction that the abigail was mad, was suffering from some unhealthyfancy. It was not the poor girl's fault. Were not current events amore than sufficient excuse for any amount of hysteria? And yet,Gabrielle was plainly not of her opinion. There was the accusernestling her head upon her lap, and the gentle hand was stroking it incaress and not in chiding. Did Gabrielle--could Gabrielle be keepingsecrets from her parent? Was it the old story of the unappreciatedmentor?

  The blessed marechal, who was to be congratulated as out of theturmoil, had established a deplorable precedent in the matter ofMadame de Breze as an oracle. One of the pleasantest points of thepresent _sejour_ was the consideration in which her words were held.Her views and opinions were treasured up, as they should be, likeflies in amber. Could it--oh, no, horrid thought, it could notbe--that Virginie, Marechale de Breze, aged, never mind how much, _wasdeliberately being made a fool of?_ Much as she was disinclined tobelieve anything so preposterous, it did look extremely like it. Thehusband away, the brother-in-law was openly accused of attempting tomurder his brother's wife, and that lady being present, made no signexcept by affectionately caressing the accuser. Madame de Breze didnot like this new complexion of things at all. How she did and alwayshad hated mysteries! Why will people be mysterious? Unless consciousof guilt, there is no cause for crawling in shadow. There could not beanything between Gabrielle and the abbe? Shocking idea! And yet inParis such things often were. Could there also be something betweenthe abbe and Toinon which rendered the latter jealous? Just like awoman, Madame de Breze ambled off into the labyrinth of conjecture.growing each moment more involved in prickly briars, plunging aboutand tumbling down in pursuit of Will-o'-the-wisp.

  When--Toinon's agitation calmed--everybody went to bed, and Gabrielleimpressed on her mother's brow the chilly kiss of a statue, themarechale shivered, and there and then resolved that Lorge was ahateful place fit only for owls and ghouls.