But remember, for the honor of my memory, that had
I ever been a happy woman, the sight of their great knife, ready to
fall upon my neck, would not have driven me to accept a part in this
tragedy--for it is a tragedy. But now," she said, with a gesture of
disgust, "if it were countermanded, I should instantly fling myself
into the Sarthe. It would not be destroying life, for I have never
lived."
"Oh, Saint Anne of Auray, forgive her!"
"What are you so afraid of? You know very well that the dull round of
domestic life gives no opportunity for my passions. That would be bad
in most women, I admit; but my soul is made of a higher sensibility
and can bear great tests. I might have been, perhaps, a gentle being
like you. Why, why have I risen above or sunk beneath the level of my
sex? Ah! the wife of Bonaparte is a happy woman! Yes, I shall die
young, for I am gay, as you say,--gay at this pleasure-party, where
there is blood to drink, as that poor Danton used to say. There,
there, forget what I am saying; it is the woman of fifty who speaks.
Thank God! the girl of fifteen is still within me."
The young country-girl shuddered. She alone knew the fiery, impetuous
nature of her mistress. She alone was initiated into the mysteries of
a soul rich with enthusiasm, into the secret emotions of a being who,
up to this time, had seen life pass her like a shadow she could not
grasp, eager as she was to do so.
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