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Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or Z,
Chapter fifteen. Doubt Marguerite Blakeney had watched the slight, sable
clad figure of Chauvelin as he worked his way through
the ball room, then perforce she had had to wait,
while her nerves tingled with excitement. Listlessly, she sat in
(00:24):
the small, still deserted boudoir, looking out through the curtained
doorway on the dancing couples beyond, looking at them, yet
seeing nothing, hearing the music, yet conscious of no safer feeling,
of expectancy, of anxious, weary waiting. Her mind conjured up
before her the vision of what was perhaps at this
very moment, passing downstairs, the half deserted dining room, the
(00:48):
fateful hour Chauvelin on the watch, then, precise to the moment,
the entrance of a man, he the Scarlet Pimpernel, the
mysterious leader, who, to Marguerite had become almost unreal, so strange,
so weird was this hidden identity. She wished she were
in the supper room too at this moment, Watching him
(01:11):
as he entered, she knew that her woman's penetration would
at once recognize in the stranger's face, whoever he might be,
that strong individuality which belongs to a leader of men,
to a hero, to the mighty high, soaring eagle, whose
daring wings were becoming entangled in the ferret's trap. Womanlike,
she thought of him with unmixed sadness. The irony of
(01:34):
that fate seemed so cruel, which allowed the fearless lion
to succumb to the gnawing of a rat. Had our
man's life not been at stake, faith, your ladyship must
have thought me very remiss, said a voice suddenly close
to her elbow. I had a deal of difficulty in
delivering your message, for I could not find Blakeney anywhere.
At first, Marguerite had forgotten all about her husband and
(01:55):
her message to him. His very name, as spoken by
Lord Fancourt, sounded strange and unfamiliar to her. So completely
had she, in the last five minutes lived her old
life in the Rue de Richelure, again, with Ourmand always
near her to love and protect her, to guard her
from the many subtle intrigues which were forever raging in
Paris in those days. I did find him at last,
(02:17):
continued Lord Fancourt and gave him your message. He said
that he would give orders at once for the horses
to be put to ah, she said, still very absently.
You found my husband and gave him my message. Yes,
he was in the dining room, fast asleep. I could
not manage to wake him up at first. Thank you
very much, she said, mechanically, trying to collect her thoughts.
(02:39):
Will your ladyship honor me with the contradance until your
coach is ready, asked Lord Fancourt. No, I thank you,
my lord, but and you will forgive me. I really
am too tired, and the heat in the ball room
has become oppressive. The conservatory is deliciously cool. Let me
take you there and then get you something. You seem ailing,
Lady Blakeney, I am only very tired, she repeated wearily,
(03:02):
as she allowed Lord Fancourt to lead her where subdued
lights and green plants lent coolness to the air. He
got her a chair into which she sank. This long
interval of waiting was intolerable. Why did not Chauvelin come
and tell her the result of his watch? Lord Fancourt
was very attentive. She scarcely heard what he said, and
suddenly startled him by asking, abruptly, Lord Fancourt, did you
(03:26):
perceive who was in the dining room just now, besides
Sir Percy Blakeney, only the agent of the French government,
Monsieur Chauvelin, equally fast asleep in another corner, He said,
why does your ladyship ask I know not? I did
you notice the time when you were there? It must
have been about five or ten minutes past one? I
wonder what your ladyship is thinking about, he added, for
(03:48):
evidently the fair lady's thoughts were very far away, and
she had not been listening to his intellectual conversation. But
indeed her thoughts were not very far away, only one
story below, in this same house, in the dining room,
where sat Chauvelin, still on the watch, had he failed
for one instant, that possibility rose before as a hope,
the hope that the scarlet pimpernel had been warned by
(04:11):
Sir Andrew, and that Chauvelin's trap had failed to catch
his bird. But that hope soon gave way to fear.
Had he failed? But then armand Lord Fancourt had given
up talking, since he found that he had no listener.
He wanted an opportunity for slipping away. For sitting opposite
to a lady. However, Fair, who was evidently not heeding
(04:32):
the most vigorous efforts made for entertainment, is not exhilarating
even to a cabinet minister. Shall I find out if
your ladyship's coaches ready? He said, at last, tentatively. Oh,
thank you, thank you, if you would be so kind.
I fear I am but sorry company, But I am
really tired and perhaps would be best alone. But Lord
(04:54):
Fancourt went, and still Chauvelin did not come. Oh what
had happened? She felt Armand's fate trembling in the balance.
She feared now with the deadly fear that Chauvelin had failed,
and that the mysterious Scarlet pimpernel had proved elusive once more.
Then she knew that she needed hope, for no pity,
no mercy from him. He had pronounced his either awe,
(05:17):
and nothing less would content him. He was very spiteful
and would affect the belief that she had wilfully misled him, and,
having failed to trap the eagle once again, his revengeful
mind would be content with the humble prey Armand. Yet
she had done her best, had strained every nerve for
Armand's sake. She could not bear to think that all
(05:38):
had failed. She could not sit still. She wanted to
go and hear the worst At once. She wondered even
that Chauvelin had not come yet to vent his wrath
and satire upon her. Lord Grenville himself came presently to
tell her that her coach was ready, and that Sir
Percy was already waiting for her. Ribbons in hand, Marguerite
said farewell to her distinguished host. Many of her friend
(06:00):
stopped her as she crossed the rooms to talk to
her and exchange pleasant auvoires. The Minister only took final
leave of beautiful Lady Blakeney on the top of the stairs. Below,
on the landing, a veritable army of gallant gentlemen were
waiting to bid good bye to the Queen of beauty
and fashion, Whilst outside, under the massive portico, Sir Percy's
magnificent bays were impatient pawing the ground. At the top
(06:22):
of the stairs. Just after she had taken final leave
of her host, she suddenly saw Chauvelin. He was coming
up the stairs slowly and rubbing his thin hands very
softly together. There was a curious look on his mobile face,
partly amused and wholly puzzled. As his keen eyes met Marguerite's,
they became strangely sarcastic. Monsieur Chauvelin, she said, as he
(06:45):
stopped on the top of the stairs, bowing elaborately before her.
My coach is outside. May I claim your arm? As
gallant as ever? He offered her his arm and led
her downstairs. The crowd was very great. Some of the
minister's guests were departing. Others were leaning against the banisters,
watching the throng as it filed up and down the
wide staircase. Chauvelin, she said, at last, desperately, I must
(07:08):
know what has happened. What has happened, dear lady, he said,
with affected surprise. Where when you are torturing me, Chauvelin,
I have helped you to night. Surely I have the
right to know what happened in the dining room at
one o'clock. Just now, She spoke in a whisper, trusting
that in the general hubbub of the crowd, her words
would remain unheeded by all save the man at her side.
(07:30):
Quiet and peace reigned supreme their lady. At that hour,
I was asleep in one corner of one sofa, and
Sir Percy Blakeney in another. Nobody came into the room
at all. Nobody. Then we have failed you, and I yes,
we have failed. Perhaps but armand she pleaded, ah, armand
(07:53):
Saint Just's chances hang on a thread. Pray Heaven, dear lady,
that that thread may not snap. Chauvelin. I worked for you, sincerely, earnestly.
Remember I remember my promise, he said quietly. The day
that the Scarlet Pimpernel and I meet on French soil,
Saint Just will be in the arms of his charming sister,
(08:14):
Which means that a brave man's blood will be on
my hands, she said, with a shudder, his blood or
that of your brother. Surely, at the present moment, you
must hope, as I do, that the enigmatical Scarlet Pimpernel
will start for Calais to day. I am only conscious
of one hope, citoyen, and that is that Satan your
master will have need of you elsewhere before the sun
(08:36):
rises to day. You flatter me citoyen. She had detained
him for a while midway down the stairs, trying to
get at the thoughts which lay beyond that thin, fox
like mask. But Chauvelin remained urbane, sarcastic, mysterious, not a
lying betrayed to the poor anxious woman, whether she need
fear or whether she dared to hope downstairs on the landing,
(08:59):
she was soon surround. Lady Blakeney never stepped from any
house into her coach without an escort of fluttering human
moths around the dazzling light of her beauty. But before
she finally turned away from Chauvelin, she held out a
tiny hand to him, with that pretty gesture of childish appeal,
which was essentially her own. Give me some hope mantle, Chauvelin,
she pleaded, with perfect gallantry. He bowed over that tiny hand,
(09:23):
which looked so dainty and white through the delicately transparent
black lace, smitten and kissing the tips of the rosy fingers.
Pray Heaven that the thread may not snap, he repeated,
with his enigmatic smile, and stepping aside, he allowed the
moths to flutter more closely round the candle and the
brilliant throng of the gurnesse d'rey, eagerly attentive to Lady
(09:44):
Blakeney's every movement, hid the keen fox like face from
her view. End of chapter fifteen. Dream Audiobook's hopes you
have enjoyed this program
Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or Z,
Chapter fifteen. Doubt Marguerite Blakeney had watched the slight, sable
clad figure of Chauvelin as he worked his way through
the ball room, then perforce she had had to wait,
while her nerves tingled with excitement. Listlessly, she sat in
(00:24):
the small, still deserted boudoir, looking out through the curtained
doorway on the dancing couples beyond, looking at them, yet
seeing nothing, hearing the music, yet conscious of no safer feeling,
of expectancy, of anxious, weary waiting. Her mind conjured up
before her the vision of what was perhaps at this
very moment, passing downstairs, the half deserted dining room, the
(00:48):
fateful hour Chauvelin on the watch, then, precise to the moment,
the entrance of a man, he the Scarlet Pimpernel, the
mysterious leader, who, to Marguerite had become almost unreal, so strange,
so weird was this hidden identity. She wished she were
in the supper room too at this moment, Watching him
(01:11):
as he entered, she knew that her woman's penetration would
at once recognize in the stranger's face, whoever he might be,
that strong individuality which belongs to a leader of men,
to a hero, to the mighty high, soaring eagle, whose
daring wings were becoming entangled in the ferret's trap. Womanlike,
she thought of him with unmixed sadness. The irony of
(01:34):
that fate seemed so cruel, which allowed the fearless lion
to succumb to the gnawing of a rat. Had our
man's life not been at stake, faith, your ladyship must
have thought me very remiss, said a voice suddenly close
to her elbow. I had a deal of difficulty in
delivering your message, for I could not find Blakeney anywhere.
At first, Marguerite had forgotten all about her husband and
(01:55):
her message to him. His very name, as spoken by
Lord Fancourt, sounded strange and unfamiliar to her. So completely
had she, in the last five minutes lived her old
life in the Rue de Richelure, again, with Ourmand always
near her to love and protect her, to guard her
from the many subtle intrigues which were forever raging in
Paris in those days. I did find him at last,
(02:17):
continued Lord Fancourt and gave him your message. He said
that he would give orders at once for the horses
to be put to ah, she said, still very absently.
You found my husband and gave him my message. Yes,
he was in the dining room, fast asleep. I could
not manage to wake him up at first. Thank you
very much, she said, mechanically, trying to collect her thoughts.
(02:39):
Will your ladyship honor me with the contradance until your
coach is ready, asked Lord Fancourt. No, I thank you,
my lord, but and you will forgive me. I really
am too tired, and the heat in the ball room
has become oppressive. The conservatory is deliciously cool. Let me
take you there and then get you something. You seem ailing,
Lady Blakeney, I am only very tired, she repeated wearily,
(03:02):
as she allowed Lord Fancourt to lead her where subdued
lights and green plants lent coolness to the air. He
got her a chair into which she sank. This long
interval of waiting was intolerable. Why did not Chauvelin come
and tell her the result of his watch? Lord Fancourt
was very attentive. She scarcely heard what he said, and
suddenly startled him by asking, abruptly, Lord Fancourt, did you
(03:26):
perceive who was in the dining room just now, besides
Sir Percy Blakeney, only the agent of the French government,
Monsieur Chauvelin, equally fast asleep in another corner, He said,
why does your ladyship ask I know not? I did
you notice the time when you were there? It must
have been about five or ten minutes past one? I
wonder what your ladyship is thinking about, he added, for
(03:48):
evidently the fair lady's thoughts were very far away, and
she had not been listening to his intellectual conversation. But
indeed her thoughts were not very far away, only one
story below, in this same house, in the dining room,
where sat Chauvelin, still on the watch, had he failed
for one instant, that possibility rose before as a hope,
the hope that the scarlet pimpernel had been warned by
(04:11):
Sir Andrew, and that Chauvelin's trap had failed to catch
his bird. But that hope soon gave way to fear.
Had he failed? But then armand Lord Fancourt had given
up talking, since he found that he had no listener.
He wanted an opportunity for slipping away. For sitting opposite
to a lady. However, Fair, who was evidently not heeding
(04:32):
the most vigorous efforts made for entertainment, is not exhilarating
even to a cabinet minister. Shall I find out if
your ladyship's coaches ready? He said, at last, tentatively. Oh,
thank you, thank you, if you would be so kind.
I fear I am but sorry company, But I am
really tired and perhaps would be best alone. But Lord
(04:54):
Fancourt went, and still Chauvelin did not come. Oh what
had happened? She felt Armand's fate trembling in the balance.
She feared now with the deadly fear that Chauvelin had failed,
and that the mysterious Scarlet pimpernel had proved elusive once more.
Then she knew that she needed hope, for no pity,
no mercy from him. He had pronounced his either awe,
(05:17):
and nothing less would content him. He was very spiteful
and would affect the belief that she had wilfully misled him, and,
having failed to trap the eagle once again, his revengeful
mind would be content with the humble prey Armand. Yet
she had done her best, had strained every nerve for
Armand's sake. She could not bear to think that all
(05:38):
had failed. She could not sit still. She wanted to
go and hear the worst At once. She wondered even
that Chauvelin had not come yet to vent his wrath
and satire upon her. Lord Grenville himself came presently to
tell her that her coach was ready, and that Sir
Percy was already waiting for her. Ribbons in hand, Marguerite
said farewell to her distinguished host. Many of her friend
(06:00):
stopped her as she crossed the rooms to talk to
her and exchange pleasant auvoires. The Minister only took final
leave of beautiful Lady Blakeney on the top of the stairs. Below,
on the landing, a veritable army of gallant gentlemen were
waiting to bid good bye to the Queen of beauty
and fashion, Whilst outside, under the massive portico, Sir Percy's
magnificent bays were impatient pawing the ground. At the top
(06:22):
of the stairs. Just after she had taken final leave
of her host, she suddenly saw Chauvelin. He was coming
up the stairs slowly and rubbing his thin hands very
softly together. There was a curious look on his mobile face,
partly amused and wholly puzzled. As his keen eyes met Marguerite's,
they became strangely sarcastic. Monsieur Chauvelin, she said, as he
(06:45):
stopped on the top of the stairs, bowing elaborately before her.
My coach is outside. May I claim your arm? As
gallant as ever? He offered her his arm and led
her downstairs. The crowd was very great. Some of the
minister's guests were departing. Others were leaning against the banisters,
watching the throng as it filed up and down the
wide staircase. Chauvelin, she said, at last, desperately, I must
(07:08):
know what has happened. What has happened, dear lady, he said,
with affected surprise. Where when you are torturing me, Chauvelin,
I have helped you to night. Surely I have the
right to know what happened in the dining room at
one o'clock. Just now, She spoke in a whisper, trusting
that in the general hubbub of the crowd, her words
would remain unheeded by all save the man at her side.
(07:30):
Quiet and peace reigned supreme their lady. At that hour,
I was asleep in one corner of one sofa, and
Sir Percy Blakeney in another. Nobody came into the room
at all. Nobody. Then we have failed you, and I yes,
we have failed. Perhaps but armand she pleaded, ah, armand
(07:53):
Saint Just's chances hang on a thread. Pray Heaven, dear lady,
that that thread may not snap. Chauvelin. I worked for you, sincerely, earnestly.
Remember I remember my promise, he said quietly. The day
that the Scarlet Pimpernel and I meet on French soil,
Saint Just will be in the arms of his charming sister,
(08:14):
Which means that a brave man's blood will be on
my hands, she said, with a shudder, his blood or
that of your brother. Surely, at the present moment, you
must hope, as I do, that the enigmatical Scarlet Pimpernel
will start for Calais to day. I am only conscious
of one hope, citoyen, and that is that Satan your
master will have need of you elsewhere before the sun
(08:36):
rises to day. You flatter me citoyen. She had detained
him for a while midway down the stairs, trying to
get at the thoughts which lay beyond that thin, fox
like mask. But Chauvelin remained urbane, sarcastic, mysterious, not a
lying betrayed to the poor anxious woman, whether she need
fear or whether she dared to hope downstairs on the landing,
(08:59):
she was soon surround. Lady Blakeney never stepped from any
house into her coach without an escort of fluttering human
moths around the dazzling light of her beauty. But before
she finally turned away from Chauvelin, she held out a
tiny hand to him, with that pretty gesture of childish appeal,
which was essentially her own. Give me some hope mantle, Chauvelin,
she pleaded, with perfect gallantry. He bowed over that tiny hand,
(09:23):
which looked so dainty and white through the delicately transparent
black lace, smitten and kissing the tips of the rosy fingers.
Pray Heaven that the thread may not snap, he repeated,
with his enigmatic smile, and stepping aside, he allowed the
moths to flutter more closely round the candle and the
brilliant throng of the gurnesse d'rey, eagerly attentive to Lady
(09:44):
Blakeney's every movement, hid the keen fox like face from
her view. End of chapter fifteen. Dream Audiobook's hopes you
have enjoyed this program
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