You understand, my lord?"
The following morning the duke brought me the desired information.
He told me, that the father had been dead seven years, but the
daughter still remained a prisoner: the order for restoring her
to liberty had been forwarded the night preceding. I will now
briefly relate the end of this mournful story.
Three weeks after this I received an early visit from the duc de
la Vrilliere, who came to apprize me, that my protegee from the
isle of St. Marguerite was in my antechamber awaiting permission
to offer me her grateful thanks. I desired she might instantly be
admitted; her appearance shocked me; not a single trace of that
beauty which had proved so fatal to its possessor now remained.
She was pale, emaciated, and her countenance, on which care and
confinement had imprinted the wrinkles of premature old age, was
sad and dejected even to idiocy. I could have wished that madame
de Pompadour, by way of punishment for her cruelty, could but
have seen the object of her relentless persecution. I think she
would have blushed for herself. When the poor girl entered my
apartment she looked wildly around her, and casting herself at
my feet, inquired with many tears to what motive she was indebted
for my generous interference in her behalf. The duc de la
Vrilliere contemplated with the utmost
the spectacle
of a misery he had so largely contributed to.
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