The Express.
London, England, 1847-09-01 00:00:00

twenty-fifth year. There is also in the testament of 1843 a
legacy, by which the duke secures a rent., of 3,000 fr. to
Millie. de Luzzi-Desportes, in acknowledgment of the en-
lightened seal which ohs had shown in the education of his
daughters."
The following details of the interrogatories to which
Mdlle. de Luzzi-besportes has been 'objected are given in
the Gazette des Tribunaux, which, however, does not gua-
rantee their correctness:
" Questioned on the 19th August by M. Brousais. WNW
d'instrottin,myths: moment at which she had been loa-id
up in the Conciergerie, as to how she had learned the hor-
ribie event, she replied that it was M. Rimy, professor of
literature to the Mesdemoiselles de Preslin, and his wife,
who came to tell her of it. They found her so much ee-
-1 toted, that they took her to their residence, Rue de la Forme
Ides Mathurine, where she remained until 8 o'clock in the
evening. It was there that a police agent went to seek her.
To the demands of the magistrate as to the serious wrong
with which she had to reproach herself towards the Duchess
de Praslin, for having attempted to deprive her of the affec-
tion of her husband and her children, Mlle. de Luzzi an-
swered : " No. air, never, never ! On my entrance into the
house of the Praslins the duke and duchess were already
on bad terms. The duke desired to direct the education of
his children alone, at least the duchess told me so. Mme.
de Praslin added, after having talked to me for a long time
on this pretension of her husband, that it would be to the
duke that I should have to give an account. The duke, on his
part, told me the same. Three governesses bad succeededC
each other in the house in the course of some months—the
duchess could not agree with any of them.' Mlle. de Luzzi
added, that M. de Praslin first told her that she would re-
side alone with the children in a part of the hotel, that she
would take her meals alone with them, and that she would
snow them only to see their mother. Mlle. de Lunt refused
to content to these propositions, and declared that she would
not accept the situation that was offered to her. The duke
then decided that the governess and the children should
take their meals with the family, but that the children
should remain under her exclusive control and direction.
Mlle. de Luzzi ascribes all her differences with the duchess
to an el-governess. This governess pretended that she kept
the children from their mother. At a later period, during a
stay at the Chateau of Vandreuil, where Mlle. de Luzzi was
with the duchess, the latter took part in the readings, and
direction of the studies of her eight children. On his ar-
rival, the duke having learned this, was very dissatisfied,
and expressed that dissatisfaction somewhat strongly, where-
uponwe the duchess
tetegoye
.abstained.ess attdeA the
teight
Chateau de
children lived lentirieT;
Ep, except as regarded the meals, which were taken en
lk, Mile. de Luzzi denies that she ever endeavoured to
away the children from their mother. ' I wes perhaps
greatly wrong,' said she, ' to accept that position, but I never
wilfully endeavoured to pain the duchess.' Mlle. de Luzzi
confesses that at times the duchess expressed sentiments of
jealousy towards her, but which, she says, had not the least
foundation in the world. Still generally the duchess was
on good terms with her, without being affectionate ; and
that often caused her to forget her injustice. Mlle. de Luzzi
had no fortune, no friend at Paris. She was obliged to keep
to an acquired position, with so much the more resignation
that the duke had promisel her, she says, to give her a pen-
sion, Heise should have the courage, in spite of all the mor-
tification. she was called on to endure, to finish the educa-
tion of his three eldest daughters. Sbe calculated that the
amount of the penvion, when the education should be once
terminated, would be 1,500 f. per annum, or 500 f. for each
of the young ladies. We are assured, as we have already
said, that Millie. de Luzzi has declared in a formal manner
that the duchess never expressed to her the least suspicion
of an improper connexion between her and her husband.
' The duchess may have said that to others,' she added, ' but
never to me.' Two years ago, when in Corsica with her
pupils on one of the estates of the Marshal Sebastiani, &jou:-
nal published that she had taken to flight with the Duke de
Praslin. In consequence of this, she resolved to leave the
house immediately; but the marshal, father of the duchess,
opposed this, representing that such a measure would be a
confirmation of the rumour. The duchess showed great
coldness and dissatisfaction at seeing Mlle. de Luzzi abandon
her determination, and remain in the house. However, this
seemed gradually to wear away, and especially withini the
last year, the duchess had become kind towards her. Mlle.
de Luzzi adds, that she was thunderstruck when, in the
month of July last, a priest, s friend of the family, told her
that her presence in the Praslin family was a cause of
trouble, and that she could no longer remain there. To the
question which arose from the facts which accused the duke
of having ceased the death of his wife, Mile. de Luzzi
replied—' Oh ! no ! no ! no ! no ! gentlemen, tell me
that that is not the case ! It is impossible ! Ile !
he, who could not bear to see one of his chil-
dren suffer ! No ! do not tell me that it is he ! Yon say
that grave charges arise; but say rather that there exists a
suspicion which will not be justified! No! no!' As she
spoke she fell on her knees, clasped her hands, and beat her
head to the ground. 'Oh !' she resumed ; 'oh ! tell me,
gentlemen, I beg of you.—But no! if you told me, I would
not believe it—no, never!' She then paused and pressed
her forehead with her hands. 'lt is impossible !` she con.
tinned. 'My conscience tells me that he did not do it!—
But if he did it, eh God ! why then it is I—l alone who am
guilty! I who loved the children so much, who adored
them !—I have been cowardly ! 1 dreaded misfortune, mi-
sery, and knew not how to resign myself to my lot !' After
another pause she proceeded: That is all my crime!—
Write it, air !' she added, looking fixedly at the magistrate—
' Yes, write it ! He must have demanded that unfortunate
letter which was to vouch for my character, she must have
refused it, and then— ! Oh yes ! It is I—lt is I alone who
am geilty I Write it! write it!'"
The Presse gives the following as from an authentic

10t/tVe
" Mlle. de Loud was a resident in the school of the Marais
for only a month. She had been introduced there in the
name of the duke and duchess, aad was accompanied on
her first visit by one of the demoiselles de Praslin. When
she took up her residence there, her pupils, in bringing her
a superb copy of the Imitation of Jesus Christ,' offered by
the duchess herself , as a testimony of gratitude, came and
aided in effecting her removal, and settling her in her
chamber, besides frequently since renewing their visits.
Mlle. de Luzzi, who was altogether a stranger to the institu-
tion, was to remain charged with the direction of the stu-
dies of the demoiselles de Praslin; and the duchtss, in dis-
missing her, gave no other motive for her sending her
away, than the too lively affection which the children felt
for their teacher—sn affection of which she was jealous.
Mile. de Luzzi, sense days before the murder, during the
day of the family in the country, had received a commis-
sion to purchase for the children bathing.clothes, which they
were to take on their way through Paris. In his visit the
evening before the crime, M. de Praslin accompanied four
of his children, who brought from the country to Mlle. de
Luzzi a basket of fruit and flowers. It was the first time
that he visited the institution. He was received by Mlle. de
Lour: in the parlour, the regulations of the house forbidding
the visit to be made otherwise, The mistress of the school
spoke apart to the duke of certain rumours which had reached
her relative to Mile. de Dual, and expressed her surprise at
these reports, which contrasted so strongly with the lively
friendship which the duchess authorised between her chil-
dren and their former governess, since she permitted these
ladies to come, with an attendant, and pass whole days at
the school; and declared to him her intenlioa to write to
the duchess herself, to demand a letter in refutation of these
reports. The duke approved of the design. The letter was
written immediately, but had not time to reach the duchess.
It has been delivered up by the mistress to the Procurcur
du Roi.
We extract the following from the official reports of the
Proces Verbaus held before the Chamber of Peers, and
shall continue to give the most interesting portion of the
correspondence :
[Written in June, 1811.]

LETTER PROM THE DUCHESS TO HER HUSBAND.

Wherefore, my beloved, do you refuse to let me share
your afflictions ? You deprive our life of all the charme of
affection! Do you then believe, or rather do you wish to
persuade yourself, that independence consist in solitude I
You say that I am erigearde, because I desire to share
year sorrows. You do not like me to remark that
you have any. Do you then wish to become Suite a
stranger to me, and for that, would it not be requisite for
au to become entirely indifferent to you ? And how could
I become indifferent to the person I love best on earth ! Do
you think it possible ?—would not my heart break long. be-
fore ? You yourself are sorrowful to see me sad, and you
know the reason of my sadness; you know how it is in
your power to console me, and yet you withhold those eon-
solations. 1, on the contrary, I see that you are sad ; I feel
within my heart a source of the deepest love, sufficient to
calm and soothe all your sorrows, and you discard me ? Am
I not your wife, the partner of your life, she whose duty it is
to share equally your pleasures and your sorrows ? If you
were ill, is it not my hand that would smooth thy pillow ?
And are not sorrows diseases of the mind—of the spirit?
Wherefore, then, reject me? . . . You have a heart to
appreciate the joys, the wants of a loving heart, in which
to place full confidence and find relief for your sorrows.
It is the violence of my manners that prevents you from
placing that confidence in me. Believe me, Tkeobald, four
months of sorrow and repentance have chastened me ; it is
to love and console you, and not to torment you that I seek
your confidence. I give you my word never to try to gain
the ascendancy over you ; I am frilly aware of your superior
character and mind; I only wish to share your life, to
embellish it, and pour balm upon your wounds. You left
my room because you thought that I wished to gain the
ascendancy over you. My friend, I swear unto you, in the
name of My love, in the acme of yours, by all that I hold
most sacred and most dear, I only seek your love and your
confidence as yon have mine. I will blindly obey you ; I
will no longer torment you by jealousy ; I shall never
give you a word of reproach or of counsel. My
repentince is too sincere. 1 have suffered too much to return
to my put faults. We are both very young, Theobald ! Do
not condemn us both to solitude. How ? We love each
other • we are both of us pure ; and shall we live apart from
each Other, both in body and in mind ? Do not let your heart
be a sufferer from a little feeling of areourpropre. I swear
v,uw pars thatWm
• - -`)
- affection and your ro^.Aenne
a J....
I shall be the loving and obedient
of souls;
o your life. My
friend, confidence is the marriage o souls; their mutual eon-
rations arc their caresses, and union, happiness, and
virtue are the fruits. Believe me I shall neverabuse your con-
fidence ; your confessions will be received in my.bosons with the
same mystery and affection as thy caresses. Take again
your own Fanny. Try her but for a short time with love
and affection, and you will find that you will be much
happier than living in solitude. You seek a change ; but
are you really happy ? Oh! no, you are not, with a heart
like yours, and the life we are leading. The only happiness
of your wife consists in your love and support. Turn not
then a deaf ear unto her entreaties ; unto her vows—to her
repentance, for she loves you, and her whole life will be
in love and gratitude towards you. You have f:el
her from your bed and from your heart ; could you
do more if she was false She spends her days
and nights in tears ; she waits outside your door, but
dares not enter, for fear you should reproach her for it on