I may well remember the precise date, for it was a night not
to be forgotten by our house. There is a singular tradition concerning
it in our family." Here the Marquis hesitated, and a cloud seemed to
gather about his bushy eyebrows. "There is a tradition--that a strange
occurrence took place that night--a strange, mysterious, inexplicable
occurrence."
Here he checked himself and paused.
"Did it relate to that lady?" inquired my uncle, eagerly.
"It was past the hour of midnight," resumed the Marquis--"when the
whole chateau--"
Here he paused again--my uncle made a movement of anxious curiosity.
"Excuse me," said the Marquis--a slight blush streaking his sullen
visage. "There are some circumstances connected with our family history
which I do not like to relate. That was a rude period. A time of great
crimes among great men: for you know high blood, when it runs wrong,
will not run tamely like blood of the _canaille_--poor lady!--But I
have a little family pride, that--excuse me--we will change the subject
if you please."--
My uncle's curiosity was piqued. The pompous and magnificent
introduction had led him to expect something wonderful in the story to
which it served as a kind of avenue. He had no idea of being cheated
out of it by a sudden fit of unreasonable squeamishness. Besides, being
a traveller, in quest of information, considered it his duty to inquire
into every thing.
The Marquis, however, evaded every question.
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