Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/493

 MARIE ANTOINETTE'S TALISMAN.

BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.

[Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.]

CONCLUDED FROM PAGE 379.

CHAPTER XX.

The Count De Mirabeau had just come in from an exciting debate at the club. This man seemed to have changed places with his foster- brother; for while one had, to a certain extent, cast off the coarseness which made him a favorite of the people, the man of noble birth had been striving to brutalize himself down to a level with the lowest strata of civilized life. Marie Antoi- nette’s rejection of his advances had plunged him deeper and deeper into the abysses of popu- lar favor. But there was a natural revolt in all this; Mirabeau would much rather have been the saviour of monarchy than a leader of the mob, and his very power as a demagogue some- times filled him with disgust. That partialar night he was in a restive frame of mind; by bringing out the very coarsest powers of his; nature he had excited the crowd that day into the most clamorous homage—homage that never would have been given to the splendid genius and great powers that he knew himself to possess, unaided by the rudest and lowest passions. It is doubtful if ever his powerful intellect foresaw the terrible scenes that the eloquence of men like him was destined to fasten upon France. That night his better nature recoiled from the hideous work his genius was doing, and he flung himself down on a chair, weary and sickened by the clamorous homage of his followers.

Some one knocked at the door of his chamber while he was in this dissatisfied mood, and he called out roughly for the person to come in, thinking that, perhaps, it was some messenger from the printing-office.

A woman entered, elegantly dressed, and scattering a delicate perfume from her garments as she moved. She held a small mask before her face, such as ladies sometimes carried to protect their complexions from the sun; but when the door was closed, she dropped it, and moving softly across the room, bent over the chair on which Mirabeau was sitting.

He started up in surprise, stood a moment as if irresolute, and then broke forth,

‘Madame Du Barry, and here!”

"So you did know me," she said, with a gleam of pride and thankfulness that he had so readily recognized her features.

"Know you?" answered the count, reaching forth his hand to grasp hers heartily, as if she had been a man. "When will the time come when Mirabeau can forget The woman held up her finger.

"Ah, count! that was before the days of Ver seilles, when you were the gayest young scape grace about the court, and I one of the people. I wonder if either of us are the better for having changed places. "

"I was just asking myself that question, " said Mirabeau, gloomily. After all, the greatness that springs out of a false position must even be unsatisfactory ; but tell me of yourself, fair lady. It is years since I have known much of your good or evil fortune."

Du Barry shrugged her shoulders.

The last few years in England—that cold, cruel country, where the sun never shines fairly out as it does in France. Is not that enough of misfortune? But I must not stay to talk of my- self. Of course, I did not come here simply for the pleasure of seeing you. There is a man in whom you take interest—a person who calls himself Monsieur Jaque.”

“My foster-brother, and as true-hearted a man as ever drew breath; but how did he come to attract your notice, my friend?”

“No matter, it is a long story; besides, it is not the man that I am so much interested in, but a young woman whom he loves.”

“A young woman! You cannot mean Made- moiselle Gosner?”

“Yes, that is the young person, a fair girl, whose father I, in some sort, wronged in the days of my power, and to whom I wish to make atonement, and cannot—she rejects it; so, in the desperation of my good intent, I come to you. My belief is that these two persons love each other.”

“Love each other! What, the girl?” eried Mirabeau, starting to his feet. ‘Does he not know that Mirabeau has honored her with his admiration?”