Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or Z,
Chapter twelve, The scrap of Paper. Marguerite suffered intensely. Though
she laughed and chatted, Though she was more admired, more surrounded,
more fated than any woman. There, she felt like one
condemned to death, living her last day upon this earth.
(00:24):
Her nerves were in a state of painful tension, which
had increased a hundredfold during that brief hour which she
had spent in her husband's company between the opera and
the ball. The short ray of hope that she might
find in this good natured, lazy individual a valuable friend
and adviser had vanished as quickly as it had come.
The moment she found herself alone with him, the same
(00:45):
feeling of good humored contempt which one feels for an
animal or a faithful servant made her turn away with
a smile from the man who should have been her
moral support in this heart rending crisis through which she
was passing, who should have been her cool headed adviser,
When feminine sympathy and sentiment tossed her hither and thither
between her love for her brother, who was far away
in immortal peril and horror of the awful service which
(01:09):
Chauvelin had exacted from her in exchange for our man's safety.
There he stood the moral support the cool headed adviser,
surrounded by a crowd of brainless, empty headed young fops,
who were even now repeating from mouth to mouth, and
with every sign of the keenest enjoyment a dog roll quatrain,
which he had just given forth everywhere the absurd silly
(01:31):
words met her. People seemed to have little else to
speak about. Even the Prince had asked her, with a
little laugh, whether she appreciated her husband's latest poetic efforts,
All done in the tying of a cravat. Sir Percy
had declared to his clique of admirers, we seek him here,
we seek him there, those Frenchies seek him everywhere. Is
(01:52):
he in Heaven? Is he in hell? That demned elusive pimpernel.
Sir Percy's bond more had gone the round of the
brilliant reception rooms. The Prince was enchanted. He vowed that
life without Blakeney would be but a dreary desert. Then,
taking him by the arm, had led him to the
card room and engaged him in a long game of hazard.
(02:13):
Sir Percy, whose chief interest in most social gathering seemed
to center around the card table, usually allowed his wife
to flirt, dance, to amuse or bore herself as much
as she liked, and to night, Having delivered himself of
his bond more, he had left Marguerite surrounded by a
crowd of admirers of all ages, all anxious and willing
to help her to forget that somewhere in the spacious
(02:33):
reception rooms there was a long, lazy being who had
been fool enough to suppose that the cleverest woman in
Europe would settle down to the prosaic bonds of English matrimony.
Her still overwrought nerves, her excitement and agitation lent beautiful
Marguerite Blakeney much additional charm. Escorted by a veritable bevy
of men of all ages and of most nationalities, she
(02:55):
called forth many exclamations of admiration from everyone. As she passed.
She would not allow herself any more time to think.
Her early somewhat bohemian training had made her something of
a fatalist. She felt that events would shape themselves, that
the directing of them was not in her hands. From Chauvelin,
she knew that she could expect no mercy. He had
set a price on Armand's head and left it to
(03:17):
her to pay or not, as she chose. Later on
in the evening, she caught sight of Sir Andrew Folks
and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, who seemingly had just arrived. She
noticed at once that Sir Andrew immediately made for Little
Suzanne de Tournay, and that the two young people soon
managed to isolate themselves in one of the deep embrasures
of the mullioned windows, there to carry on a long
(03:38):
conversation which seemed very earnest and very pleasant on both sides.
Both the young men looked a little haggard and anxious,
but otherwise they were irreproachably dressed, and there was not
the slightest sign about their courtly demeanor of the terrible
catastrophe which they must have felt hovering round them and
round their chief. That the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel
had no intention of abandoning its call. She had gathered
(04:01):
through Little Suzanne herself, who spoke openly of the assurance
she and her mother had had that the Comte de
d'urnay would be rescued from France by the League within
the next few days. Vaguely she began to wonder, as
she looked at the brilliant and fashionable in the gaily
lighted ball room, which of these worldly men round her
was the mysterious scarlet pimpernel who held the threads of
(04:21):
such daring plots and the fate of valuable lives in
his hands. A burning curiosity seized her to know him,
although for months she had heard of him and had
accepted his anonymity as every one else in society had done.
But now she longed to know quite impersonally, quite apart
from Urmand, and oh quite apart from Chauvelin, only for
(04:42):
her own sake, for the sake of the enthusiastic admiration
she had always bestowed on his bravery and cunning. He
was at the ball of course, somewhere, since Sir Andrew
Folkes and Lord Anthony Dewhurst were here, evidently expecting to
meet their chief and perhaps to get a fresh mord'orre
from him. Marguerite looked round at everyone at the aristocratic,
(05:03):
high typed Norman faces, the squarely built, fair haired Saxon
the more gentle, humorous cast of the celt wondering which
of these betrayed the power, the energy, the cunning which
had imposed its will and its leadership upon a number
of high born English gentlemen, among whom rumor asserted was
his Royal Highness himself, Sir Andrew Folkes. Surely, not with
(05:27):
his gentle blue eyes which were looking so tenderly and
longingly after little Suzanne, who was being led away from
the pleasant tete a tete by her stern mother. Marguerite
watched him across the room as he finally turned away
with a sigh and seemed to stand aimless and lonely
now that Suzanne's dainty little figure had disappeared in the crowd.
She watched him as he strolled towards the doorway which
(05:47):
led to a small boudoir beyond, then paused and leaned
against the framework of it, looking still anxiously all around him.
Marguerite contrived for the moment to evade her present attentive cavalier,
and she skirted the fashionable crowd, drawing nearer to the
doorway against which Sir Andrew was leaning. Why she wished
to get closer to him. She could not have said.
Perhaps she was impelled by an all powerful fatality which
(06:10):
so often seems to rule the destinies of men. Suddenly
she stopped, Her very heart seemed to stand still, Her
eyes large and excited, flashed for a moment towards that doorway,
then as quickly were turned away again. Sir Andrew Folkes
was still in the same listless position by the door.
But Marguerite had distinctly seen that Lord Hastings, a young buck,
(06:30):
a friend of her husband's and one of the princes,
said had as he quickly brushed past him, slipped something
into his hand. For one moment longer. Oh, it was
the merest flash. Marguerite paused. The next she had, with
admirably played unconcern, resumed her walk across the room, but
this time more quickly towards that doorway, whence Sir Andrew
(06:51):
had now disappeared. All this from the moment that Marguerite
had caught sight of Sir Andrew leaning against the doorway,
until she followed him into the little boudoir, yond had
occurred in less than a minute. Fate is usually swift
when she deals a blow now Lady Blakeney had suddenly
ceased to exist. It was Marguerite Saint Just who was
there only Marguerite Saint Just who had passed her childhood,
(07:13):
her early youth, in the protecting arms of her brother
Armand She had forgotten everything else, her rank, her dignity,
her secret enthusiasms, everything save that Armand stood in peril
of his life, and that there not twenty feet away
from her, in the small boudoir, which was quite deserted,
in the very hands of Sir Andrew Folks, might be
the talisman which would save her brother's life. Barely another
(07:36):
thirty seconds had elapsed between the moment when Lord Hastings
slipped the mysterious something into Sir Andrew's hand and the
one when she, in her turn, reached the deserted boudoir.
Sir Andrew was standing with his back to her and
close to a table upon which stood a massive silver candelabra.
A slip of paper was in his hand, and he
was in the very act of perusing its contents. Unperceived,
(07:57):
her soft clinging robe, making not the slightest sound upon
the heavy carpet, not daring to breathe until she had
accomplished her purpose. Marguerite slipped close behind him. At that
moment he looked round and saw her. She uttered a groan,
passed her hand across her forehead, and murmured, faintly, the
heat in the room was terrible. I felt so faint. Oh.
(08:18):
She tottered, almost as if she would fall, and Sir
Andrew quickly recovering himself and crumpling in his hand the
tiny note he had been reading was only apparently just
in time to support her. You are a ill, lady, Blakeney,
he asked, with much concern. Let me no, no, nothing,
she interrupted quickly. A chair quick she sank into a
chair close to the table, and, throwing back her head,
(08:38):
closed her eyes. There she murmured, still faintly, the giddiness
is passing off. Do not heed me, Sir Andrew. I
assure you I already feel better at moments like these,
there is no doubt. And psychologists actually asserted that there
is in us a sense which has absolutely nothing to
do with the other five. It is not that we see,
it is not that we hear or touch, yet we
(08:59):
seem to do all three at once. Marguerite sat there
with her eyes apparently closed. Sir Andrew was immediately behind her,
and on her right was the table with the five
armed candelabra upon it. Before her mental vision there was
absolutely nothing but ar Man's face, Armand, whose life was
in the most imminent danger, and who seemed to be
looking at her from a background upon which were dimly
(09:20):
painted the seething crowd of Paris, the bare walls of
the Tribunal of Public Safety, with Fouquiertenville, the public prosecutor,
demanding our man's life in the name of the people
of France, and the lurid guillotine with its stained knife
waiting for another victim. Armand. For one moment, there was
dead silence in the little boudoir. Beyond from the brilliant
(09:40):
ball room, the sweet notes of the Gavotte, the fru
frew of rich dresses, the talk and laughter of a
large and merry crowd came as a strange, weird accompaniment
to the drama which was being enacted here. Sir Andrew
had not uttered another word. Then it was that that
extra sense became potent in Marguerite Blakeney. She could not
see for her two two eyes were closed. She could
(10:01):
not hear, for the noise from the ballroom drowned the
soft rustle of that momentous scrap of paper. Nevertheless, she knew,
as if she had both seen and heard, that Sir
Andrew was even now holding the paper to the flame
of one of the candles. At the exact moment that
it began to catch fire, she opened her eyes, raised
her hand, and with two dainty fingers, had taken the
burning scrap of paper from the young man's hand. Then
(10:23):
she blew out the flame and held the paper to
a nostril with perfect unconcern. How thoughtful of you, Sir Andrew,
she said gaily. Surely twas your grandmother who told you
that the smell of burnt paper was a sovereign remedy
against giddiness, she sighed with satisfaction, holding the paper tightly
between her jeweled fingers, that talisman which perhaps would save
her brother Armand's life. Sir Andrew was staring at her,
(10:45):
too dazed for the moment to realize what had actually happened.
He had been taken so completely by surprise that he
seemed quite unable to grasp the fact that the slip
of paper which she held in her dainty hand was
one perhaps on which the life of his comrade might depend.
Marguerite burst into a long, merry peal of laughter. Why
do you stare at me like that? She said playfully.
(11:05):
I assure you I feel much better. Your remedy has
proved most effectual. This room is most delightedly cool, she added,
with the same perfect composure. And the sound of the
gavot from the ballroom is fascinating and soothing. She was
prattling on in the most unconcerned and pleasant way, whilst
Sir Andrew, in an agony of mind, was racking his
brains as to the quickest method he could employ to
(11:26):
get that bit of paper out of that beautiful woman's hand.
Instinctively vague and tumultuous thoughts rushed through his mind. He
suddenly remembered her nationality, and worst of all, recollected that
horrible tale and the Marquis de Saint Cyr, which in
England no one had credited for the sake of Sir Percy,
as well as for her own. What still dreaming and staring,
she said, with a merry laugh, You are most and gallant,
(11:48):
Sir Andrew, And now I come to think of it,
you seemed more startled than pleased when you saw me
just now. I do believe, after all, that it was
not concerned for my health, nor yet a remedy taught
you by your grandmother that caused you to burn this
tiny scrap of paper. I vow it must have been
your lady Love's last cruel epistle you were trying to destroy.
Now confess, she added, playfully, holding up the scrap of paper.
(12:09):
Does this contain her final courget or a last appeal
to kiss and make friends? Whichever it is, Lady Lakeney,
said Sir Andrew, who was gradually recovering his self possession.
This little note is undoubtedly mine, and not caring whether
his action was one that would be styled ill bred
towards a lady. The young man had made a bold
dash for the note, but Marguerite's thoughts flew quicker than
(12:32):
his own. Her actions, under pressure of this intense excitement
were swifter and more sure. She was tall and strong.
She took a quick step backwards and knocked over the
small Sheraton table, which was already top heavy, and which
fell down with a crash, together with the massive candelabra
upon it. She gave a quick cry of alarm the candle.
Sir Andrew quick There was not much damage done. One
(12:52):
or two of the candles had blown out as the
candlabra fell, others had merely sent some grease upon the
valuable carpet. One had ignited the paper shade over it.
Sir Andrew quickly and dexterously put out the flames and
replaced the candelabra upon the table. But this had taken
him a few seconds to do, and those seconds had
been all that Marguerite needed to cast a quick glance
at the paper and to note its contents, a dozen
(13:14):
words in the same distorted handwriting she had seen before,
and bearing the same device, a star shaped flower drawn
in red ink. When Sir Andrew once more looked at her,
he saw only upon her face alarm at the untoward
accident and relief at its happy issue. Whilst the tiny
and momentous note had apparently fluttered to the ground eagerly,
the young man picked it up, and his face looked
(13:35):
much relieved as his fingers closed tightly over it. For shame,
Sir Andrew, she said, shaking her head with a playful sigh,
making havoc in the heart of some impressionable duchess whilst
conquering the affections of my sweet little Suzanne. Well, well,
I do believe it was Cupid himself who stood by
you and threatened the entire Foreign Office with the destruction
by fire, just on purpose to make me drop Love's
(13:58):
message before it did a simply by my indiscreet eyes
to think that a moment longer and I might have
known the secret of an erring duchess. You will forgive me,
Lady Blakeney, said Sir Andrew, now as calm as she
was herself, if I resume the interesting occupation which you
have interrupted by all means, Sir Andrew, how should I
venture to thwart the Love God again? Perhaps he would
(14:20):
meet out some terrible chastisement against my presumption. Burn your
love token by all means, Sir Andrew had already twisted
the paper into a long spill, and was once again
holding it to the flame of the candle, which had
remained alight. He did not notice the strange smile on
the face of his fair Vizaville, so intent was he
on the work of destruction. Perhaps had he done so,
(14:40):
the look of relief would have faded from his face.
He watched the fateful note as it curled under the flame. Soon,
the last fragment fell on the floor, and he placed
his heel upon the ashes. And now, Sir Andrew, said,
Marguerite Blakeney, with the pretty nonchalance peculiar to herself, and
with the most winning of smiles, will you venture to
excite the jealousy of your fair lady by asking me
to dance the nuet end of Chapter twelve. Dream Audiobooks
(15:06):
hopes you have enjoyed this program.
Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or Z,
Chapter twelve, The scrap of Paper. Marguerite suffered intensely. Though
she laughed and chatted, Though she was more admired, more surrounded,
more fated than any woman. There, she felt like one
condemned to death, living her last day upon this earth.
(00:24):
Her nerves were in a state of painful tension, which
had increased a hundredfold during that brief hour which she
had spent in her husband's company between the opera and
the ball. The short ray of hope that she might
find in this good natured, lazy individual a valuable friend
and adviser had vanished as quickly as it had come.
The moment she found herself alone with him, the same
(00:45):
feeling of good humored contempt which one feels for an
animal or a faithful servant made her turn away with
a smile from the man who should have been her
moral support in this heart rending crisis through which she
was passing, who should have been her cool headed adviser,
When feminine sympathy and sentiment tossed her hither and thither
between her love for her brother, who was far away
in immortal peril and horror of the awful service which
(01:09):
Chauvelin had exacted from her in exchange for our man's safety.
There he stood the moral support the cool headed adviser,
surrounded by a crowd of brainless, empty headed young fops,
who were even now repeating from mouth to mouth, and
with every sign of the keenest enjoyment a dog roll quatrain,
which he had just given forth everywhere the absurd silly
(01:31):
words met her. People seemed to have little else to
speak about. Even the Prince had asked her, with a
little laugh, whether she appreciated her husband's latest poetic efforts,
All done in the tying of a cravat. Sir Percy
had declared to his clique of admirers, we seek him here,
we seek him there, those Frenchies seek him everywhere. Is
(01:52):
he in Heaven? Is he in hell? That demned elusive pimpernel.
Sir Percy's bond more had gone the round of the
brilliant reception rooms. The Prince was enchanted. He vowed that
life without Blakeney would be but a dreary desert. Then,
taking him by the arm, had led him to the
card room and engaged him in a long game of hazard.
(02:13):
Sir Percy, whose chief interest in most social gathering seemed
to center around the card table, usually allowed his wife
to flirt, dance, to amuse or bore herself as much
as she liked, and to night, Having delivered himself of
his bond more, he had left Marguerite surrounded by a
crowd of admirers of all ages, all anxious and willing
to help her to forget that somewhere in the spacious
(02:33):
reception rooms there was a long, lazy being who had
been fool enough to suppose that the cleverest woman in
Europe would settle down to the prosaic bonds of English matrimony.
Her still overwrought nerves, her excitement and agitation lent beautiful
Marguerite Blakeney much additional charm. Escorted by a veritable bevy
of men of all ages and of most nationalities, she
(02:55):
called forth many exclamations of admiration from everyone. As she passed.
She would not allow herself any more time to think.
Her early somewhat bohemian training had made her something of
a fatalist. She felt that events would shape themselves, that
the directing of them was not in her hands. From Chauvelin,
she knew that she could expect no mercy. He had
set a price on Armand's head and left it to
(03:17):
her to pay or not, as she chose. Later on
in the evening, she caught sight of Sir Andrew Folks
and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, who seemingly had just arrived. She
noticed at once that Sir Andrew immediately made for Little
Suzanne de Tournay, and that the two young people soon
managed to isolate themselves in one of the deep embrasures
of the mullioned windows, there to carry on a long
(03:38):
conversation which seemed very earnest and very pleasant on both sides.
Both the young men looked a little haggard and anxious,
but otherwise they were irreproachably dressed, and there was not
the slightest sign about their courtly demeanor of the terrible
catastrophe which they must have felt hovering round them and
round their chief. That the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel
had no intention of abandoning its call. She had gathered
(04:01):
through Little Suzanne herself, who spoke openly of the assurance
she and her mother had had that the Comte de
d'urnay would be rescued from France by the League within
the next few days. Vaguely she began to wonder, as
she looked at the brilliant and fashionable in the gaily
lighted ball room, which of these worldly men round her
was the mysterious scarlet pimpernel who held the threads of
(04:21):
such daring plots and the fate of valuable lives in
his hands. A burning curiosity seized her to know him,
although for months she had heard of him and had
accepted his anonymity as every one else in society had done.
But now she longed to know quite impersonally, quite apart
from Urmand, and oh quite apart from Chauvelin, only for
(04:42):
her own sake, for the sake of the enthusiastic admiration
she had always bestowed on his bravery and cunning. He
was at the ball of course, somewhere, since Sir Andrew
Folkes and Lord Anthony Dewhurst were here, evidently expecting to
meet their chief and perhaps to get a fresh mord'orre
from him. Marguerite looked round at everyone at the aristocratic,
(05:03):
high typed Norman faces, the squarely built, fair haired Saxon
the more gentle, humorous cast of the celt wondering which
of these betrayed the power, the energy, the cunning which
had imposed its will and its leadership upon a number
of high born English gentlemen, among whom rumor asserted was
his Royal Highness himself, Sir Andrew Folkes. Surely, not with
(05:27):
his gentle blue eyes which were looking so tenderly and
longingly after little Suzanne, who was being led away from
the pleasant tete a tete by her stern mother. Marguerite
watched him across the room as he finally turned away
with a sigh and seemed to stand aimless and lonely
now that Suzanne's dainty little figure had disappeared in the crowd.
She watched him as he strolled towards the doorway which
(05:47):
led to a small boudoir beyond, then paused and leaned
against the framework of it, looking still anxiously all around him.
Marguerite contrived for the moment to evade her present attentive cavalier,
and she skirted the fashionable crowd, drawing nearer to the
doorway against which Sir Andrew was leaning. Why she wished
to get closer to him. She could not have said.
Perhaps she was impelled by an all powerful fatality which
(06:10):
so often seems to rule the destinies of men. Suddenly
she stopped, Her very heart seemed to stand still, Her
eyes large and excited, flashed for a moment towards that doorway,
then as quickly were turned away again. Sir Andrew Folkes
was still in the same listless position by the door.
But Marguerite had distinctly seen that Lord Hastings, a young buck,
(06:30):
a friend of her husband's and one of the princes,
said had as he quickly brushed past him, slipped something
into his hand. For one moment longer. Oh, it was
the merest flash. Marguerite paused. The next she had, with
admirably played unconcern, resumed her walk across the room, but
this time more quickly towards that doorway, whence Sir Andrew
(06:51):
had now disappeared. All this from the moment that Marguerite
had caught sight of Sir Andrew leaning against the doorway,
until she followed him into the little boudoir, yond had
occurred in less than a minute. Fate is usually swift
when she deals a blow now Lady Blakeney had suddenly
ceased to exist. It was Marguerite Saint Just who was
there only Marguerite Saint Just who had passed her childhood,
(07:13):
her early youth, in the protecting arms of her brother
Armand She had forgotten everything else, her rank, her dignity,
her secret enthusiasms, everything save that Armand stood in peril
of his life, and that there not twenty feet away
from her, in the small boudoir, which was quite deserted,
in the very hands of Sir Andrew Folks, might be
the talisman which would save her brother's life. Barely another
(07:36):
thirty seconds had elapsed between the moment when Lord Hastings
slipped the mysterious something into Sir Andrew's hand and the
one when she, in her turn, reached the deserted boudoir.
Sir Andrew was standing with his back to her and
close to a table upon which stood a massive silver candelabra.
A slip of paper was in his hand, and he
was in the very act of perusing its contents. Unperceived,
(07:57):
her soft clinging robe, making not the slightest sound upon
the heavy carpet, not daring to breathe until she had
accomplished her purpose. Marguerite slipped close behind him. At that
moment he looked round and saw her. She uttered a groan,
passed her hand across her forehead, and murmured, faintly, the
heat in the room was terrible. I felt so faint. Oh.
(08:18):
She tottered, almost as if she would fall, and Sir
Andrew quickly recovering himself and crumpling in his hand the
tiny note he had been reading was only apparently just
in time to support her. You are a ill, lady, Blakeney,
he asked, with much concern. Let me no, no, nothing,
she interrupted quickly. A chair quick she sank into a
chair close to the table, and, throwing back her head,
(08:38):
closed her eyes. There she murmured, still faintly, the giddiness
is passing off. Do not heed me, Sir Andrew. I
assure you I already feel better at moments like these,
there is no doubt. And psychologists actually asserted that there
is in us a sense which has absolutely nothing to
do with the other five. It is not that we see,
it is not that we hear or touch, yet we
(08:59):
seem to do all three at once. Marguerite sat there
with her eyes apparently closed. Sir Andrew was immediately behind her,
and on her right was the table with the five
armed candelabra upon it. Before her mental vision there was
absolutely nothing but ar Man's face, Armand, whose life was
in the most imminent danger, and who seemed to be
looking at her from a background upon which were dimly
(09:20):
painted the seething crowd of Paris, the bare walls of
the Tribunal of Public Safety, with Fouquiertenville, the public prosecutor,
demanding our man's life in the name of the people
of France, and the lurid guillotine with its stained knife
waiting for another victim. Armand. For one moment, there was
dead silence in the little boudoir. Beyond from the brilliant
(09:40):
ball room, the sweet notes of the Gavotte, the fru
frew of rich dresses, the talk and laughter of a
large and merry crowd came as a strange, weird accompaniment
to the drama which was being enacted here. Sir Andrew
had not uttered another word. Then it was that that
extra sense became potent in Marguerite Blakeney. She could not
see for her two two eyes were closed. She could
(10:01):
not hear, for the noise from the ballroom drowned the
soft rustle of that momentous scrap of paper. Nevertheless, she knew,
as if she had both seen and heard, that Sir
Andrew was even now holding the paper to the flame
of one of the candles. At the exact moment that
it began to catch fire, she opened her eyes, raised
her hand, and with two dainty fingers, had taken the
burning scrap of paper from the young man's hand. Then
(10:23):
she blew out the flame and held the paper to
a nostril with perfect unconcern. How thoughtful of you, Sir Andrew,
she said gaily. Surely twas your grandmother who told you
that the smell of burnt paper was a sovereign remedy
against giddiness, she sighed with satisfaction, holding the paper tightly
between her jeweled fingers, that talisman which perhaps would save
her brother Armand's life. Sir Andrew was staring at her,
(10:45):
too dazed for the moment to realize what had actually happened.
He had been taken so completely by surprise that he
seemed quite unable to grasp the fact that the slip
of paper which she held in her dainty hand was
one perhaps on which the life of his comrade might depend.
Marguerite burst into a long, merry peal of laughter. Why
do you stare at me like that? She said playfully.
(11:05):
I assure you I feel much better. Your remedy has
proved most effectual. This room is most delightedly cool, she added,
with the same perfect composure. And the sound of the
gavot from the ballroom is fascinating and soothing. She was
prattling on in the most unconcerned and pleasant way, whilst
Sir Andrew, in an agony of mind, was racking his
brains as to the quickest method he could employ to
(11:26):
get that bit of paper out of that beautiful woman's hand.
Instinctively vague and tumultuous thoughts rushed through his mind. He
suddenly remembered her nationality, and worst of all, recollected that
horrible tale and the Marquis de Saint Cyr, which in
England no one had credited for the sake of Sir Percy,
as well as for her own. What still dreaming and staring,
she said, with a merry laugh, You are most and gallant,
(11:48):
Sir Andrew, And now I come to think of it,
you seemed more startled than pleased when you saw me
just now. I do believe, after all, that it was
not concerned for my health, nor yet a remedy taught
you by your grandmother that caused you to burn this
tiny scrap of paper. I vow it must have been
your lady Love's last cruel epistle you were trying to destroy.
Now confess, she added, playfully, holding up the scrap of paper.
(12:09):
Does this contain her final courget or a last appeal
to kiss and make friends? Whichever it is, Lady Lakeney,
said Sir Andrew, who was gradually recovering his self possession.
This little note is undoubtedly mine, and not caring whether
his action was one that would be styled ill bred
towards a lady. The young man had made a bold
dash for the note, but Marguerite's thoughts flew quicker than
(12:32):
his own. Her actions, under pressure of this intense excitement
were swifter and more sure. She was tall and strong.
She took a quick step backwards and knocked over the
small Sheraton table, which was already top heavy, and which
fell down with a crash, together with the massive candelabra
upon it. She gave a quick cry of alarm the candle.
Sir Andrew quick There was not much damage done. One
(12:52):
or two of the candles had blown out as the
candlabra fell, others had merely sent some grease upon the
valuable carpet. One had ignited the paper shade over it.
Sir Andrew quickly and dexterously put out the flames and
replaced the candelabra upon the table. But this had taken
him a few seconds to do, and those seconds had
been all that Marguerite needed to cast a quick glance
at the paper and to note its contents, a dozen
(13:14):
words in the same distorted handwriting she had seen before,
and bearing the same device, a star shaped flower drawn
in red ink. When Sir Andrew once more looked at her,
he saw only upon her face alarm at the untoward
accident and relief at its happy issue. Whilst the tiny
and momentous note had apparently fluttered to the ground eagerly,
the young man picked it up, and his face looked
(13:35):
much relieved as his fingers closed tightly over it. For shame,
Sir Andrew, she said, shaking her head with a playful sigh,
making havoc in the heart of some impressionable duchess whilst
conquering the affections of my sweet little Suzanne. Well, well,
I do believe it was Cupid himself who stood by
you and threatened the entire Foreign Office with the destruction
by fire, just on purpose to make me drop Love's
(13:58):
message before it did a simply by my indiscreet eyes
to think that a moment longer and I might have
known the secret of an erring duchess. You will forgive me,
Lady Blakeney, said Sir Andrew, now as calm as she
was herself, if I resume the interesting occupation which you
have interrupted by all means, Sir Andrew, how should I
venture to thwart the Love God again? Perhaps he would
(14:20):
meet out some terrible chastisement against my presumption. Burn your
love token by all means, Sir Andrew had already twisted
the paper into a long spill, and was once again
holding it to the flame of the candle, which had
remained alight. He did not notice the strange smile on
the face of his fair Vizaville, so intent was he
on the work of destruction. Perhaps had he done so,
(14:40):
the look of relief would have faded from his face.
He watched the fateful note as it curled under the flame. Soon,
the last fragment fell on the floor, and he placed
his heel upon the ashes. And now, Sir Andrew, said,
Marguerite Blakeney, with the pretty nonchalance peculiar to herself, and
with the most winning of smiles, will you venture to
excite the jealousy of your fair lady by asking me
to dance the nuet end of Chapter twelve. Dream Audiobooks
(15:06):
hopes you have enjoyed this program.
Popular Podcasts
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
Are You A Charlotte?
In 1997, actress Kristin Davis’ life was forever changed when she took on the role of Charlotte York in Sex and the City. As we watched Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte navigate relationships in NYC, the show helped push once unacceptable conversation topics out of the shadows and altered the narrative around women and sex. We all saw ourselves in them as they searched for fulfillment in life, sex and friendships. Now, Kristin Davis wants to connect with you, the fans, and share untold stories and all the behind the scenes. Together, with Kristin and special guests, what will begin with Sex and the City will evolve into talks about themes that are still so relevant today. "Are you a Charlotte?" is much more than just rewatching this beloved show, it brings the past and the present together as we talk with heart, humor and of course some optimism.
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.