She made herself mistress of the
whole formula of poisoning as taught by her grandfather Exili, and
of the arts of sorcery practised by her wicked grandmother, La
Voisin.
As La Corriveau listened to the tale of the burning of her
grandmother on the Place de Greve, her own soul seemed bathed in the
flames which rose from the faggots, and which to her perverted
reason appeared as the fires of cruel injustice, calling for revenge
upon the whole race of the oppressors of her family, as she regarded
the punishers of their crimes.
With such a parentage, and such dark secrets brooding in her bosom,
Marie Josephte, or, as she was commonly called, La Corriveau, had
nothing in common with the simple peasantry among whom she lived.
Years passed over her, youth fled, and La Corriveau still sat in her
house, eating her heart out, silent and solitary. After the death
of her mother, some whispers of hidden treasures known only to
herself, a rumor which she had cunningly set afloat, excited the
cupidity of Louis Dodier, a simple habitan of St.
Pages:
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674