The fire in her eyes startled her
with its unearthly glow. She trembled and turned away from her
mirror, and crept to her couch like a guilty thing, with a feeling
as if she was old, haggard, and doomed to shame for the sake of this
Intendant, who cared not for her, or he would not have driven her to
such desperate and wicked courses as never fell to the lot of a
woman before.
"C'est sa faute! C'est sa faute!" exclaimed she, clasping her hands
passionately together. "If she dies, it is his fault, not mine! I
prayed him to banish her, and he would not! C'est sa faute! C'est
sa faute!" Repeating these words Angelique fell into a feverish
slumber, broken by frightful dreams which lasted far on into the
day.
The long reign of Louis XIV., full of glories and misfortunes for
France, was marked towards its close by a portentous sign indicative
of corrupt manners and a falling state. Among these, the crimes of
secret poisoning suddenly attained a magnitude which filled the
whole nation with terror and alarm.
Antonio Exili, an Italian, like many other alchemists of that
period, had spent years in search of the philosopher's stone and the
elixir of life.
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