She left an ill-starred daughter, Marie
Exili, to the blank charity of the streets of Paris, and the
possession of many of the frightful secrets of her mother and of her
terrible father.
Marie Exili clung to Paris. She grew up beautiful and profligate;
she coined her rare Italian charms, first into gold and velvet, then
into silver and brocade, and at last into copper and rags. When her
charms faded entirely, she began to practise the forbidden arts of
her mother and father, but without their boldness or long impunity.
She was soon suspected, but receiving timely warning of her danger,
from a high patroness at Court, Marie fled to New France in the
disguise of a paysanne, one of a cargo of unmarried women sent out
to the colony on matrimonial venture, as the custom then was, to
furnish wives for the colonists. Her sole possession was an antique
cabinet with its contents, the only remnant saved from the fortune
of her father, Exili.
Marie Exili landed in New France, cursing the Old World which she
had left behind, and bringing as bitter a hatred of the New, which
received her without a shadow of suspicion that under her modest
peasant's garb was concealed the daughter and inheritrix of the
black arts of Antonio Exili and of the sorceress La Voisin.
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