Back Aa

Marie Antoinette Romances, Vol 1: Balsamo, The Magician

Close

<h2>CHAPTER III. THE LOVELY LORENZA.</h2> The woman who was in the fore part of the coach, in the cab, remained for a time deprived of sense. As fear alone had caused the swoon, she came to consciousness. "Heavens!" she cried, "am I abandoned helpless here, with no human being to take pity upon me?" "Lady," said a timid voice at hand, "I am here, and I may be some help to you." Passing her head and both arms out of the cab by the leather curtains, the young woman, rising, faced a youth who stood on the steps. "Is it you offered me help? What has happened?" "The thunderbolt nearly struck you, and the traces were broken of the leading pair, which have run off with the postboy." "What has become of the person who was riding the other pair?" she asked, with an anxious look round. "He got off the horses as if all right and went inside the other part of this coach." "Heaven be praised," said she, breathing more freely. "But who are you to offer me assistance so timely?" "Surprised by the storm, I was in that dark hole which is a quarry outlet, when I suddenly saw a large wagon coming down at a gallop. I thought it a runaway, but soon saw it was guided by a mighty hand, but the lightning fell with such an uproar that I feared I was struck and was stunned. All seemed to have happened in a dream." The lady nodded as if this satisfied her, but rested her head on her hand in deep thought. He had time to examine her. She was in her twenty-third year, and of dark complexion, but richly colored with the loveliest pink. Her blue eyes sparkled like stars as she appealed to heaven, and her hair fell in curls of jet, unpowdered contrary to the fashion, on her opal neck. "Where are we?" she suddenly inquired. "On the Strasburg to Paris highway, near Pierrefittes, a village. Bar-le-Duc is the next town, with some five thousand population." "Is there a short cut to it?" "None I ever heard of." "What a pity!" she said in Italian. As she kept silent toward him, the youth was going away, when this drew her from her reverie, for she called him for another question. "Is there a horse still attached to the coach?" "The gentleman who entered, tied it to the wheel." "It is a valuable animal, and I should like to be sure it is unhurt; but how can I go through this mud?" "I can bring it here," proposed the stripling. "Do so, I prithee, and I shall be most grateful to you." But the barb reared and neighed when he went up. "Do not be afraid," said the lady: "it is gentle as a lamb. Djerid," she called in a low voice. The steed recognized the mistress's voice, for it extended its intelligent head toward the speaker, while the youth unfastened it. But it was scarcely loose before it jerked the reins away and bounded up to the vehicle. The woman came forth, and almost as quickly leaped on the saddle, with the dexterity of those sylphs in German ballads who cling to riders while seated on the crupper. The youth sprang toward her but she stopped him with an imperative wave of the hand. "List to me. Though but a boy, or because you are young, you have humane feelings. Do not oppose my flight. I am fleeing from a man I love, but I am above all a good Catholic. This man would destroy my soul were I to stay by him, as he is a magician whom God sent a warning to by the lighting. May he profit by it! Tell him this, and bless you for the help given me. Farewell!" Light as the marsh mist, she was carried away by the gallop of Djerid. On seeing this, the youth could not restrain a cry of surprise, which was the one heard inside the coach. <hr style="width:65%;"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2