The Midnight Queen [114]
of life then -
endurance, I have scarcely learned it yet, or I should bear
life's burden longer; but that first night's despair has darkened
my whole after-life. For weeks I would not listen to my father's
proposal, to hide what would send all the world from me in
loathing behind a mask; but I came to my senses at last, and from
that day to the present - more days than either you or I would
care to count - it has not been one hour altogether off my face."
"I was the wonder and talk of Paris, when I did appear; and most
of the surmises were wild and wide of the mark - some even going
so far as to say it was all owing to my wonderful unheard-of
beauty that I was thus mysteriously concealed from view. I had a
soft voice, and a tolerable shape; and upon this, I presume, they
founded the affirmation. But my father and I kept our own
council, and let them say what they listed. I had never been
named, as other children are; but they called me La Masque now.
I had masters and professors without end, and studied astronomy
and astrology, and the mystic lore of the old Egyptians, and
became noted as a prodigy and a wonder, and a miracle of
learning, far and near.
"The arts used to discover the mystery and make me unmask were
innumerable and almost incredible; but I baffled them all, and
began, after a time, rather to enjoy the sensation I created than
otherwise.
"There was one, in particular, possessed of even more devouring
curiosity than the rest, a certain young countess of miraculous
beauty, whom I need not describe, since you have her very image
in Leoline. The Marquis de Montmorenci, of a somewhat
inflammable nature, loved her almost as much as he had done my
mother, and she accepted him, and they were married. She may
have loved him (I see no reason why she should not), but still to
this day I think it was more to discover the secret of La Masque
than from any other cause. I loved my beautiful new mother too
well to let her find it out; although from the day she entered
our house as a bride, until that on which she lay on her
deathbed, her whole aim, day and night, was its discovery. There
seemed to be a fatality about my father's wives; for the
beautiful Honorine lived scarcely longer than her predecessor,
and she died, leaving three children - all born at one time - you
know them well, and one of them you love. To my care she
intrusted them on her deathbed, and she could have scarcely
intrusted them to worse; for, though I liked her, I most
decidedly disliked them. They were lovely children - their
lovely mother's image; and they were named Hubert, Leoline, and
Honorine, or, as you knew her, Miranda. Even my father did not
seem to care for them much, not even as much as he cared for me;
and when he lay on his deathbed, one year later, I was left,
young as I was, their sole guardian, and trustee of all his
wealth. That wealth was not fairly divided - one-half being left
to me and the other half to be shared equally between them; but,
in my wicked ambition, I was not satisfied even with that. Some
of my father's fierce and cruel nature I inherited; and I
resolved to be clear of these three stumbling-blocks, and
recompense myself for my other misfortunes by every indulgence
boundless riches could bestow. So, secretly, and in the night, I
left my home, with an old and trusty servant, known to you as
Prudence, and my unfortunate, little brother and sisters.
Strange to say, Prudence was attached to one of them, and to
neither of the rest - that one was Leoline, whom she resolved to
keep and care for, and neither she nor I minded what became of
the other two."
"From Paris we went to Dijon, where we dropped Hubert into the
turn at the convent door, with his name attached, and left him
where he would be well taken care of, and no questions asked.
With the other two we started for Calais, en route for England;
and
endurance, I have scarcely learned it yet, or I should bear
life's burden longer; but that first night's despair has darkened
my whole after-life. For weeks I would not listen to my father's
proposal, to hide what would send all the world from me in
loathing behind a mask; but I came to my senses at last, and from
that day to the present - more days than either you or I would
care to count - it has not been one hour altogether off my face."
"I was the wonder and talk of Paris, when I did appear; and most
of the surmises were wild and wide of the mark - some even going
so far as to say it was all owing to my wonderful unheard-of
beauty that I was thus mysteriously concealed from view. I had a
soft voice, and a tolerable shape; and upon this, I presume, they
founded the affirmation. But my father and I kept our own
council, and let them say what they listed. I had never been
named, as other children are; but they called me La Masque now.
I had masters and professors without end, and studied astronomy
and astrology, and the mystic lore of the old Egyptians, and
became noted as a prodigy and a wonder, and a miracle of
learning, far and near.
"The arts used to discover the mystery and make me unmask were
innumerable and almost incredible; but I baffled them all, and
began, after a time, rather to enjoy the sensation I created than
otherwise.
"There was one, in particular, possessed of even more devouring
curiosity than the rest, a certain young countess of miraculous
beauty, whom I need not describe, since you have her very image
in Leoline. The Marquis de Montmorenci, of a somewhat
inflammable nature, loved her almost as much as he had done my
mother, and she accepted him, and they were married. She may
have loved him (I see no reason why she should not), but still to
this day I think it was more to discover the secret of La Masque
than from any other cause. I loved my beautiful new mother too
well to let her find it out; although from the day she entered
our house as a bride, until that on which she lay on her
deathbed, her whole aim, day and night, was its discovery. There
seemed to be a fatality about my father's wives; for the
beautiful Honorine lived scarcely longer than her predecessor,
and she died, leaving three children - all born at one time - you
know them well, and one of them you love. To my care she
intrusted them on her deathbed, and she could have scarcely
intrusted them to worse; for, though I liked her, I most
decidedly disliked them. They were lovely children - their
lovely mother's image; and they were named Hubert, Leoline, and
Honorine, or, as you knew her, Miranda. Even my father did not
seem to care for them much, not even as much as he cared for me;
and when he lay on his deathbed, one year later, I was left,
young as I was, their sole guardian, and trustee of all his
wealth. That wealth was not fairly divided - one-half being left
to me and the other half to be shared equally between them; but,
in my wicked ambition, I was not satisfied even with that. Some
of my father's fierce and cruel nature I inherited; and I
resolved to be clear of these three stumbling-blocks, and
recompense myself for my other misfortunes by every indulgence
boundless riches could bestow. So, secretly, and in the night, I
left my home, with an old and trusty servant, known to you as
Prudence, and my unfortunate, little brother and sisters.
Strange to say, Prudence was attached to one of them, and to
neither of the rest - that one was Leoline, whom she resolved to
keep and care for, and neither she nor I minded what became of
the other two."
"From Paris we went to Dijon, where we dropped Hubert into the
turn at the convent door, with his name attached, and left him
where he would be well taken care of, and no questions asked.
With the other two we started for Calais, en route for England;
and