rs who were wont to
collect in anterooms, laughing and jesting in frivolous and irreverent
fashion. They all shyly made way for her; and when she entered the
salon the king himself in his astonishment rose and came to meet her.
As his eyes fell upon the glitter of the costly diamonds in the
necklace and bracelets, he cried, "'Pon my soul, that's Cardillac's
jewellery!" Then, turning to De Maintenon, he added with an arch smile,
"See, Marchioness, how our fair bride mourns for her bridegroom." "Oh!
your Majesty," broke in De Scuderi, taking up the jest and carrying it
on, "would it indeed beseem a deeply sorrowful bride to adorn herself
in this splendid fashion? No, I have quite broken off with that
goldsmith, and should never think about him more, were it not that the
horrid recollection of him being carried past me after he had been
murdered so often recurs to my mind." "What do you say?" asked the
king. "What! you saw the poor devil?" De Scuderi now related in a few
words how she chanced to be near Cardillac's house just as the murder
was discovered--as yet she did not allude to Brusson's being mixed up
in the matter. She sketched Madelon's excessive grief, told what a deep
impression the angelic child made upon her, and described in what way
she had rescued the poor girl out of Desgrais' hands, amid the
approving shouts of the people. Then came the scenes with La Regnie,
with Desgrais, with Brusson--the interest deepening and intensifying
from moment to moment. The king was so carried away by the
extraordinary graphic power and burning eloquence of Mademoiselle's
narration that he did not perceive she was talking about the hateful
trial of the abominable wretch Brusson; he was quite unable to utter a
word; all he could do was to let off the excess of his emotion by an
exclamation from time to time. Ere he knew where he was--he was so
utterly confused by this unprecedented tale which he had heard that he
was unable to order his thoughts--De Scuderi was prostrate at his feet,
imploring pardon for Olivier Brusson. "What are you doing?" burst out
the king, taking her by both hands and forcing her into a chair. "What
do you mean, Mademoiselle? This is a strange way to surprise me. Oh!
it's a terrible story. Who will guarantee me that Brusson's marvellous
tale is true?" Whereupon De Scuderi replied, "Miossens' evidence--an
examination of Cardillac's house--my heart-felt conviction--and oh!
Madelon's virtuous heart, which re