The Republican journal., 1874-03-12
A WOman's Revenge.

A WOman's Revenge.
1t was AT the time when Louis NN was
on the French throne; when the beautiful
and clever Marquise de Pompadour gayly
wound har coils round his sceptre; the
time of pig-talS and patches. of the B,S-
tile and of alchemy.
In a narrow street of Paris. rs it was in
days of yore, in one of those small pri-
yatr residences, which, in those days. they
were pleased to call a palace and which
was in 4 somewhat dilapidated condition.
there sat in a cosy little houdoir a charm
ing Young girl. She was piquant rather
than beautiful, graceful rather than symme-
tric-a genuine Parisienne. Mile. Alripnne
de Marneville
She sat before her spinet. and played one
of Lully's sonates, while at her feet, on a
low, embroidered STOOL there sat young
man who, from time to time, wrote with a
pencil on Il sheet OF paper, spread out ON
4 portfolio he held on his knees. What he
wrote seemed to please him amazingly
tor 1t each period he laughed heartily. He
was neither Il handsome or an elegant
man, but his face bore the impress of
talent, which, in his generation, could hold
its head as high rs rank or riches. 1t was
the poet DeStorgeS. to whom the caprici-
Gus little lady at the spinet had given Il
very dangerous commisSion--a commits
sion that might indeed easily send him to
the Bastile, She had demanded from him
a satire on the all powerful woman who
had France at her feet and whose in
fuence was felt in all Europe
Il had finished, Adrienne," :" suddenly
cried Destorges. springing to his feet, and
dancing about the room for a moment in
high glee then he struck an attitude, and
began to read what he had written
Adrieme stopped playing and listened
with wrapped attention to the siIvrr-toncd
but yenomous verses.
"ENcellent charming!" She cried from
time to time, and when he had finished
reading. She rlapprd her hands with de
light.
-Then YOU are Sati>licd2" asked Drstor-
geS.
And SO Well, sir that | proclaim you
from to-day my champion and court t-poet, =
replied Mile dc MarneNllr with mock
pathos.
MAY ever prove worthy =" said the
poet, pressing her fingers to his lips
And the verses are mime ?" asked
Adrienr.
,Yours, but lir~t lei me have copy of
them
While he made !; transcript Of the little
satire Adrienne explained to HIM WHY she
had such hatred for Mime. de Pompadour,
and was over.oyed when Destorges prom
iSed to distribute copies of yiruent verses
in the cafes and in the bUytatlr 0csprN
He pressed her hand once more to his
lips. and hurried away on his errand, while
she turned again to her sonata as though
nothing unusual had occurred. \ genuine
daughter of the rocco times was Adrienne
de Marneville tickle, careless, giddy.
Adrienne had Just finished playing a.
Nine. de Marnevile. still an attractive
woman of the hcou m01dr, entered the
ROOM somewhat hastily.
".non entiuW come with most agree
able surprise"
.Ah mamma, YOU have brought me the
set of iewelry | asked You tor the other
day - interrupted Adrienne.
NO, child, have brought You nothing
What ! bring YOU offers tsrli-a husband
The Marquis Gc Beauvoir is a sutor for
your hand
"Beauvoir-a handsome man. replied
Adrienne, blushing yisiblv.
And very rich" added the mother.
And YOU would have me marry him -
asked Adrienne, naively.
''Certainly. How can yon ask You
know We are not rich. 1t would be in
sanity to refuse
But Desiorges? lon know he loves
me-
= 4,
And loye him too,7 sighed Adrienne
That's very mcomprehensibe,'' re-
turned Nine. de Marneville, Indignantly
'And YOU really wish me to-"
TO become the Marquise de Beauvoil
my child-to ride in your coach and four,
to shine at court, and be served like an
Oriental queen, by Moors."
That would be splendid -
Then may rtell the Marquis that you
consent ?'
Ills servants are Moors; | have seen
| them myself murmured Adrienne.
Then YOU consent - asked the umbi-
tious mother.
''Well, yes, mamma, but-what will
Desforges, say, poor Desforges p
The mother embraced her daughter,
and taking her hand led her into the salon
where the Marquis de Beauvoir waited
When poor Destorges, the following
day, returned. in a paroxysm of delight
at the success of his satire, he was receiv-
ed by Nine de Marneville with q frosty
nod, by Adrienne with downcast eyes, and
by the handsome cavalier who held Adrl-
enne's hand tenderly in his own with Il
cold, inquiring glance.
1--WE have some news to tell you, NJ
Destorges,' began the lady Of the house,
''Adrienne is betrothed to NJ lie Marquis
| de Beauvoir.'
IL congratulate you.'' stammered
Desforges. 1t was suddenly dark before
| his eyes He bowed awkwardlv, and
staggered out Of the room.
1.-The gentleman's manner was very
| strange" observed the marquis.
lila, Desforges never does anything
| like other pcople-poetsn never do, ! think,
replied the mamma, laughing.
The next morning. when Mile de Mar
neville, accompanied by her old nurse
was returning from mass, she met Des
forges, who had evidently been waiting
for her
"In what have snned, mademoiselle,
he began, saluting her coldlv, ''that you
on the same day, made me first the hap
| picst and then the most wretcheu of men
Oh, you are hardly less cruel and heartles>
than the Marquise de Pompadour, whom
you SO hate
81 am not accountable to you for my
actions" replied Adrienne, proudly.
But you have told me that yon love,
me- returned the unhappy poet.
II imagined, for moment, that did
| confess" said Adrienne with shrug
"You were then the only man | knew"
FAnd now ?" cried he, in tirmer tone