The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIII, Issue 27, 6 July 1905, Page 23

The Storyteller

A PAGE FROM A MEMOIR

The relatives of the famous beauty, Gracia Wells, who was so greatly admired at Newport, uhen the French officers were there in the days of the American Revolution, were shocked when she married a ' Papist,' the Count de Lac-Joselle. At Newport he had paid marked attention fo this ' prim and proud beauty, as his brother pmcer, De Lau/-un, had called her. II wat> not until slhe met him in President Washington's house at Philadelphia that she condescended to notice him. it was curious that she— a strict Protestant— should have wandered into the ' Popish ' chapel one afternoon, and been pleased to see the young Count on his knees before the mysterious lamp in front of the altar. His friend, De Brugere, had asked her to marry him ; and, as De Brugero was ' li'Uteral ' in all beliefs, her people preferred him to any other foreigner. Gracia, tall and blonde, with a face, as De Brugore said, ' like that of the Princess de Lamballe, only beautiful,' waited for him. He started and flushed when he sa,w her, and he began to apologise. ' I am far from home,' he said, ' and my mother—' 'Why is it,' she asked, with sternne^B >in ht'r J/tue eyes, • that you French are ashamed of all' that is good and of nothing that is bad ? If your nation is all like you, there must come a terrible reckoning.' He bluSTied again, and fumbled with his gold-laced hat. ' You are right,' he said gravely, ' but you must not judge all our nation by myself, or by my friends, De Brugere, De Lauzun— ' The two walked in silence eastward to the Delaware, and then to Gracia's aunt's house in Trent street. But the silence bT ought them together in a way that the white heron's plume, the fan painted by Fragmard, and the scented gloves, which Gracia's mother had allowed her to accept in the simple American way, or a thousand witty speeches had never done. In time Gracia hod her way, in spite of all arguments ; and, in the ' PopiMh chapel,' she consented to" become Madame LacJoselle, having adopted the faith of her forefathers, and she amdi her husband sailed, with the troops of the Count de Rochambeau to France. Her husband's friends, who were very gay, called her ' Mces Prim,' but they admirfd her, and the songK and .speeches of more than poetic license^ -which some of the ladies of society did not object to, were hushe3 in her presence. Once she had a stormy scene with Fernand de Brugere, one of her hushand's friends. It was after Sinner at the Chateau de Lac-Joselle. De Brugere had joined the party of Robespierre, and he had come, -\ery amicably, fio say good-bye to the aristocrat, Lac-Joselle. The thunders of the Terror were beginning to be heard. ' I drink to Reason, the .Goddess of Reason,' Do Brugere said, raising his glass : ' Reason, trie enemy of lies, of superstition, of religion,' and he laughed. Lac-Joßelle knew De Brugcre's power, and his heart sank as he saw his wife rise from her chair, and take her hoy's hand in hers. ' Monsieur de Brugere,' she said, ' you must respect children and women. You were once an innocent child, though I can scarcely believe it— and your mother would do what I do now.' She courtesied very low, drew her boy of ten after her, and Vrft the room. De Brugere 3id not rise ; 'he lolled in his chair la7ily, "but his eyes flashed. ' The American blood ! ' he laughed harshly. ' I told her once that if you were dead, I would marry her. Ciel ' she is Splendid, and I believe that my mother would have done the same thine;. I told her onee — and I will swear to her again— that I will be e\en 'for her scorn of me ! She knows that I shall soon hold your fate and hers in the hollow of my hand, and vet, for her religion, she defies me ' 'Good-bye, Lac-Joselle. T came to dinner to-day only for a s-lght of fier. Henceforth we are enemicß ' * Forgetting prudence and tho fact that De Brugere was his guest, Lac-Joselle put his hand on his sword. ' Come, Monsieur de Lac-Joselle, do not leit us fight. I shall not avenge your wife's insult now,' De Brugere said, with his hand on the kjiob of the 3oor. ' Your wife is a good woman, a valiant Catholic : but France does not need such women now ; they make us uncomfortable ! ' He was gone. LaoJosellp shuddered. ;He could ftcar wild shouts from the village. The parish church was in flames. 'Ca ira • ' veiled the 1 crowd. 'Ca ira ' ' It meant death to all within the chateau. And he realised now \hat De Brugere, who had dined with him in a half-friendly way, was Ms enemy.

'Weirwe 6 r s r S tr°/tre S^e' haS US ' h ° 8aW ' Loufs'met 6 Stab 6^' Lac " Joselle ' his ** and little ' Thi^l ool^ 1 !u ctied ihe leader ' w h° was masked. The father and the cufol must die ! As for you. madame the map .added in a voice Gracia knew too well, Cn „sa°^ ?° f the Sistor na^ tion for which I faSt Go madame,' he added, with a cynical laugh, < andiee whether you can live by your goodness.' She dung to the little Louis. His yellow hair shinIS L n ?e,? c , ™ onll g h t was ihe last Ihing she saw? as she of SstS 'of £f bCd ° f heli ° frOpe ' at thefoOt * ud fir 6 v^ 6 and Si S °- Pans ' the hatred °' Go^ Pent up for years, was having its way. Priests had Rone out ,n crowds from the Carmelite monastery now a l of murderers, to their death in blood. An actor nthS-s ° h h th + V£ 6a i reS v' more kind-hearted than the otters had sat behind the blood-stained table, acting as L^nßrTZ^T had jUSt been relie^ by g the thP hand W + . Pale an ' wiih a bloade <*& by rank n?' n h^°o m e through the reek and smoke and the ranh of pil^es, to be examined. eer In' h^t ' '^l^f 6 ssaid»5 aa id»' d » lookhl 'S more c^ ni^l than wfu s^fiss-to us !h! h , ttie «- »* *- »/sr s srem^ 0 ; 6116 n ° reply ; he Stood erect » b^ he seemed to have lost consciousness, a woman, dnped'in a long, black cloak, made her way, in spite of all onposition to the opposite side of this terrible table of wX e rtf anth^e. *"*' *" *« ™* luminoUs hltle^ne II 11I 1 ' tlL< ° ne '' She Said ;' my husband ! T h« lighted 6 v Chlld hda ° Ut hIS handS ' De B ™S ere ' s 'ace vn,,r Mada ? C C he Sald in a whi& P er . ' deny that this is our husband or your child. You aie American-the tribunal knows lt . Deny that you are the wife of L A cJo.elle and the mother of his child. They are not kno*n; I may, then, say that they are of the people. 1r Ur n WIf f He H V th gracc> ' hesaid in a low tow to go then an n yOU< VY ° U alXd the b ° y may who GG H aCi t S }°?* cr u Ct> facing her husb a"<i ana the boy, who dropped ,his hands to his sides at a sharp, low word from his fatner. ' t ' Ah ' w p m *n °f America, formeily the Countess thJ ■« i - 0 ' &aid rf ? e Brufiere, with e< ident enjoyment of the situation. 'These persons claim, from Wide or loohs'hness, to be your former huaband and son. They are fools jdiots - And the guillotine is not for idiots.' lhe circle about the table were breathless. What would S ll 6 GO . To deny her child, to lie in his face, to cast him off, to save the two she loved most in life "by a falsehood? Her husband looked at her, hope and love in his eyes lo lie in ncr child's presence, even to save his life It would be best to die with him. ' Th<*e are my husband and my son, 1 she saia in a low voice There was silence in (he group immediately around tr-e table, «but loud cries came from the courtyard. De Brugere started, and looktyl straight into her eyes. The goodness of my wife has destroyed ye ! ' Lac-Josclle muttered. De Brugere heard him and laughed. ' A g,ord v.-oman ' ' he said solemnly. 'Of the race of Regulus,' cried the stony-faced man at his sf»e. The mob took up the shout. 'Your goooness,' hesaid half mockingly, 'has enabled you to live If you had lied,' he aaded, in her oar, ' I would have killed them and you. The loss of one bad woman would not have mattered ; but you are too rare a creature to kill. Go with your husbanS and child. The way will be made for you.'' ' Of the ra^e of Regulus ' ' the mob saia. Ana drunkon mnirderers in the courtyard echoed it, as Fhe passed with her precious ones to freedom ! When Madame de Lac-Joselle died, twenty years after, the lawyers found, in her will, a beouest of perpetual Masses for the soul of Fernand de Brugere. ' At least,' he had said, when he was on his way to the guillotine with the Duke of Orleans, ' I can recall one good deed ' ' Orleans laughed. 'You ha^e an unusual memory, 1 he answered.—' Ben7iger's Magazine.'