"Sir," said the young man, addressing the officer with a haughty6 air, "I presume, till I find myself mistaken, that your business is with me alone; so I will ask you to inform me what powers you may have for thus stopping my coach; also, since I have alighted, I desire you to give your men orders to let the vehicle go on."
"First of all," replied the man, by no means intimidated7 by these lordly airs, but signing to his men that they must not release the coach or the horses, "be so good as to answer my questions."
"Are you the Chevalier Gaudin de Sainte-Croix?"
"I am he."
"Yes, sir."
"Then I arrest you in the king's name."
"What powers have you?"
"This warrant."
Sainte-Croix cast a rapid glance at the paper, and instantly recognised the signature of the minister of police: he then apparently10 confined his attention to the woman who was still in the carriage; then he returned to his first question.
"This is all very well, sir," he said to the officer, "but this warrant contains no other name than mine, and so you have no right to expose thus to the public gaze the lady with whom I was travelling when you arrested me. I must beg of you to order your assistants to allow this carriage to drive on; then take me where you please, for I am ready to go with you."
To the officer this request seemed a just one: he signed to his men to let the driver and the horses go on; and, they, who had waited only for this, lost no time in breaking through the crowd, which melted away before them; thus the woman escaped for whose safety the prisoner seemed so much concerned.
Sainte-Croix kept his promise and offered no resistance; for some moments he followed the officer, surrounded by a crowd which seemed to have transferred all its curiosity to his account; then, at the corner of the Quai de d'Horloge, a man called up a carriage that had not been observed before, and Sainte-Croix took his place with the same haughty and disdainful air that he had shown throughout the scene we have just described. The officer sat beside him, two of his men got up behind, and the other two, obeying no doubt their master's orders, retired11 with a parting direction to the driver.
"The Bastille!"
Our readers will now permit us to make them more fully12 acquainted with the man who is to take the first place in the story. The origin of Gaudin de Sainte-Croix was not known: according to one tale, he was the natural son of a great lord; another account declared that he was the offspring of poor people, but that, disgusted with his obscure birth, he preferred a splendid disgrace, and therefore chose to pass for what he was not. The only certainty is that he was born at Montauban, and in actual rank and position he was captain of the Tracy regiment. At the time when this narrative13 opens, towards the end of 1665, Sainte-Croix was about twenty-eight or thirty, a fine young man of cheerful and lively appearance, a merry comrade at a banquet, and an excellent captain: he took his pleasure with other men, and was so impressionable a character that he enjoyed a virtuous14 project as well as any plan for a debauch15; in love he was most susceptible16, and jealous to the point of madness even about a courtesan, had she once taken his fancy; his prodigality17 was princely, although he had no income; further, he was most sensitive to slights, as all men are who, because they are placed in an equivocal position, fancy that everyone who makes any reference to their origin is offering an intentional18 insult.
We must now see by what a chain of circumstances he had arrived at his present position. About the year 1660, Sainte-Croix, while in the army, had made the acquaintance of the Marquis de Brinvilliers, maitre-de-camp of the Normandy regiment.
Their age was much the same, and so was their manner of life: their virtues20 and their vices21 were similar, and thus it happened that a mere22 acquaintance grew into a friendship, and on his return from the field the marquis introduced Sainte-Croix to his wife, and he became an intimate of the house. The usual results followed. Madame de Brinvilliers was then scarcely eight-and-twenty: she had married the marquis in 1651-that is, nine years before. He enjoyed an income of 30,000 livres, to which she added her dowry of 200,000 livres, exclusive of her expectations in the future. Her name was Marie-Madeleine; she had a sister and two brothers: her father, M. de Dreux d'Aubray; was civil lieutenant23 at the Chatelet de Paris. At the age of twenty-eight the marquise was at the height of her beauty: her figure was small but perfectly24 proportioned; her rounded face was charmingly pretty; her features, so regular that no emotion seemed to alter their beauty, suggested the lines of a statue miraculously25 endowed with life: it was easy enough to mistake for the repose26 of a happy conscience the cold, cruel calm which served as a mask to cover remorse27.
Sainte-Croix and the marquise loved at first sight, and she was soon his mistress. The marquis, perhaps endowed with the conjugal28 philosophy which alone pleased the taste of the period, perhaps too much occupied with his own pleasure to see what was going on before his eyes, offered no jealous obstacle to the intimacy29, and continued his foolish extravagances long after they had impaired30 his fortunes: his affairs became so entangled31 that the marquise, who cared for him no longer, and desired a fuller liberty for the indulgence of her new passion, demanded and obtained a separation. She then left her husband's house, and henceforth abandoning all discretion33, appeared everywhere in public with Sainte-Croix. This behaviour, authorised as it was by the example of the highest nobility, made no impression upon the. Marquis of Brinvilliers, who merrily pursued the road to ruin, without worrying about his wife's behaviour. Not so M. de Dreux d'Aubray: he had the scrupulosity34 of a legal dignitary. He was scandalised at his daughter's conduct, and feared a stain upon his own fair name: he procured35 a warrant for the arrest of Sainte-Croix wheresoever the bearer might chance to encounter him. We have seen how it was put in execution when Sainte-Croix was driving in the carriage of the marquise, whom our readers will doubtless have recognised as the woman who concealed37 herself so carefully.
From one's knowledge of the character of Sainte-Croix, it is easy to imagine that he had to use great self-control to govern the anger he felt at being arrested in the middle of the street; thus, although during the whole drive he uttered not a single word, it was plain to see that a terrible storm was gathering38, soon to break. But he preserved the same impossibility both at the opening and shutting of the fatal gates, which, like the gates of hell, had so often bidden those who entered abandon all hope on their threshold, and again when he replied to the formal questions put to him by the governor. His voice was calm, and when they gave him they prison register he signed it with a steady hand. At once a gaoler, taking his orders from the governor, bade him follow: after traversing various corridors, cold and damp, where the daylight might sometimes enter but fresh air never, he opened a door, and Sainte-Croix had no sooner entered than he heard it locked behind him.
At the grating of the lock he turned. The gaoler had left him with no light but the rays of the moon, which, shining through a barred window some eight or ten feet from the ground, shed a gleam upon a miserable39 truckle-bed and left the rest of the room in deep obscurity. The prisoner stood still for a moment and listened; then, when he had heard the steps die away in the distance and knew himself to be alone at last, he fell upon the bed with a cry more like the roaring of a wild beast than any human sound: he cursed his fellow-man who had snatched him from his joyous40 life to plunge41 him into a dungeon42; he cursed his God who had let this happen; he cried aloud to whatever powers might be that could grant him revenge and liberty.
Just at that moment, as though summoned by these words from the bowels43 of the earth, a man slowly stepped into the circle of blue light that fell from the window-a man thin and pale, a man with long hair, in a black doublet, who approached the foot of the bed where Sainte-Croix lay. Brave as he was, this apparition44 so fully answered to his prayers (and at the period the power of incantation and magic was still believed in) that he felt no doubt that the arch-enemy of the human race, who is continually at hand, had heard him and had now come in answer to his prayers. He sat up on the bed, feeling mechanically at the place where the handle of his sword would have been but two hours since, feeling his hair stand on end, and a cold sweat began to stream down his face as the strange fantastic being step by step approached him. At length the apparition paused, the prisoner and he stood face to face for a moment, their eyes riveted45; then the mysterious stranger spoke46 in gloomy tones.
"Young man," said he, "you have prayed to the devil for vengeance47 on the men who have taken you, for help against the God who has abandoned you. I have the means, and I am here to proffer48 it. Have you the courage to accept?"
"First of all," asked Sainte-Croix; "who are you?"
"Why seek you to know who I am," replied the unknown, "at the very moment when I come at your call, and bring what you desire?"
"All the same," said Sainte-Croix, still attributing what he heard to a supernatural being, "when one makes a compact of this kind, one prefers to know with whom one is treating."
"Well, since you must know," said the stranger, "I am the Italian Exili."
Sainte-Croix shuddered49 anew, passing from a supernatural vision to a horrible reality. The name he had just heard had a terrible notoriety at the time, not only in France but in Italy as well. Exili had been driven out of Rome, charged with many poisonings, which, however, could not be satisfactorily brought home to him. He had gone to Paris, and there, as in his native country, he had drawn50 the eyes of the authorities upon himself; but neither in Paris nor in Rome was he, the pupil of Rene and of Trophana, convicted of guilt51. All the same, though proof was wanting, his enormities were so well accredited52 that there was no scruple53 as to having him arrested. A warrant was out against him: Exili was taken up, and was lodged54 in the Bastille. He had been there about six months when Sainte-Croix was brought to the same place. The prisoners were numerous just then, so the governor had his new guest put up in the same room as the old one, mating Exili and Sainte-Croix, not knowing that they were a pair of demons57. Our readers now understand the rest. Sainte-Croix was put into an unlighted room by the gaoler, and in the dark had failed to see his companion: he had abandoned himself to his rage, his imprecations had revealed his state of mind to Exili, who at once seized the occasion for gaining a devoted58 and powerful disciple59, who once out of prison might open the doors for him, perhaps, or at least avenge60 his fate should he be incarcerated61 for life.
The repugnance62 felt by Sainte-Croix for his fellow-prisoner did not last long, and the clever master found his pupil apt. Sainte-Croix, a strange mixture of qualities good and evil, had reached the supreme63 crisis of his life, when the powers of darkness or of light were to prevail. Maybe, if he had met some angelic soul at this point, he would have been led to God; he encountered a demon56, who conducted him to Satan.
Exili was no vulgar poisoner: he was a great artist in poisons, comparable with the Medici or the Borgias. For him murder was a fine art, and he had reduced it to fixed64 and rigid65 rules: he had arrived at a point when he was guided not by his personal interest but by a taste for experiment. God has reserved the act of creation for Himself, but has suffered destruction to be within the scope of man: man therefore supposes that in destroying life he is God's equal. Such was the nature of Exili's pride: he was the dark, pale alchemist of death: others might seek the mighty66 secret of life, but he had found the secret of destruction.
For a time Sainte-Croix hesitated: at last he yielded to the taunts67 of his companion, who accused Frenchmen of showing too much honour in their crimes, of allowing themselves to be involved in the ruin of their enemies, whereas they might easily survive them and triumph over their destruction. In opposition68 to this French gallantry, which often involves the murderer in a death more cruel than that he has given, he pointed69 to the Florentine traitor70 with his amiable71 smile and his deadly poison. He indicated certain powders and potions, some of them of dull action, wearing out the victim so slowly that he dies after long suffering; others violent and so quick, that they kill like a flash of lightning, leaving not even time for a single cry. Little by little Sainte-Croix became interested in the ghastly science that puts the lives of all men in the hand of one. He joined in Exili's experiments; then he grew clever enough to make them for himself; and when, at the year's end, he left the Bastille, the pupil was almost as accomplished72 as his master.
Sainte-Croix returned into that society which had banished73 him, fortified74 by a fatal secret by whose aid he could repay all the evil he had received. Soon afterwards Exili was set free—how it happened is not known—and sought out Sainte-Croix, who let him a room in the name of his steward75, Martin de Breuille, a room situated76 in the blind, alley77 off the Place Maubert, owned by a woman called Brunet.
It is not known whether Sainte-Croix had an opportunity of seeing the Marquise de Brinvilliers during his sojourn78 in the Bastille, but it is certain that as soon as he was a free man the lovers were more attached than ever. They had learned by experience, however, of what they had to fear; so they resolved that they would at once make trial of Sainte-Croix's newly acquired knowledge, and M. d'Aubray was selected by his daughter for the first victim. At one blow she would free herself from the inconvenience of his rigid censorship, and by inheriting his goods would repair her own fortune, which had been almost dissipated by her husband. But in trying such a bold stroke one must be very sure of results, so the marquise decided80 to experiment beforehand on another person. Accordingly, when one day after luncheon81 her maid, Francoise Roussel, came into her room, she gave her a slice of mutton and some preserved gooseberries for her own meal. The girl unsuspiciously ate what her mistress gave her, but almost at once felt ill, saying she had severe pain in the stomach, and a sensation as though her heart were being pricked82 with pins. But she did not die, and the marquise perceived that the poison needed to be made stronger, and returned it to Sainte-Croix, who brought her some more in a few days' time.
The moment had come for action. M. d'Aubray, tired with business, was to spend a holiday at his castle called Offemont. The marquise offered to go with him. M. d'Aubray, who supposed her relations with Sainte-Croix to be quite broken off, joyfully83 accepted. Offemont was exactly the place for a crime of this nature. In the middle of the forest of Aigue, three or four miles from Compiegne, it would be impossible to get efficient help before the rapid action of the poison had made it useless.
M d'Aubray started with his daughter and one servant only. Never had the marquise been so devoted to her father, so especially attentive85, as she was during this journey. And M. d'Aubray, like Christ—who though He had no children had a father's heart—loved his repentant86 daughter more than if she had never strayed. And then the marquise profited by the terrible calm look which we have already noticed in her face: always with her father, sleeping in a room adjoining his, eating with him, caring for his comfort in every way, thoughtful and affectionate, allowing no other person to do anything for him, she had to present a smiling face, in which the most suspicious eye could detect nothing but filial tenderness, though the vilest87 projects were in her heart. With this mask she one evening offered him some soup that was poisoned. He took it; with her eyes she saw him put it to his lips, watched him drink it down, and with a brazen88 countenance89 she gave no outward sign of that terrible anxiety that must have been pressing on her heart. When he had drunk it all, and she had taken with steady hands the cup and its saucer, she went back to her own room, waited and listened....
The effect was rapid. The marquise heard her father moan; then she heard groans90. At last, unable to endure his sufferings, he called out to his daughter. The marquise went to him. But now her face showed signs of the liveliest anxiety, and it was for M. d'Aubray to try to reassure91 her about himself! He thought it was only a trifling92 indisposition, and was not willing that a doctor should be disturbed. But then he was seized by a frightful93 vomiting94, followed by such unendurable pain that he yielded to his daughter's entreaty95 that she should send for help. A doctor arrived at about eight o'clock in the morning, but by that time all that could have helped a scientific inquiry97 had been disposed of: the doctor saw nothing, in M. d'Aubray's story but what might be accounted for by indigestion; so he dosed him, and went back to Compiegne.
All that day the marquise never left the sick man. At night she had a bed made up in his room, declaring that no one else must sit up with him; thus she, was able to watch the progress of the malady98 and see with her own eyes the conflict between death and life in the body of her father. The next day the doctor came again: M. d'Aubray was worse; the nausea99 had ceased, but the pains in the stomach were now more acute; a strange fire seemed to burn his vitals; and a treatment was ordered which necessitated100 his return to Paris. He was soon so weak that he thought it might be best to go only so far as Compiegne, but the marquise was so insistent101 as to the necessity for further and better advice than anything he could get away from home, that M. d'Aubray decided to go. He made the journey in his own carriage, leaning upon his daughter's shoulder; the behaviour of the marquise was always the same: at last M. d'Aubray reached Paris. All had taken place as the marquise desired; for the scene was now changed: the doctor who had witnessed the symptoms would not be present at the death; no one could discover the cause by studying the progress of the disorder102; the thread of investigation103 was snapped in two, and the two ends were now too distant to be joined again. In spite, of every possible attention, M. d'Aubray grew continually worse; the marquise was faithful to her mission, and never left him for an hour. At list, after four days of agony, he died in his daughter's arms, blessing104 the woman who was his murderess. Her grief then broke forth32 uncontrolled. Her sobs105 and tears were so vehement106 that her brothers' grief seemed cold beside hers. Nobody suspected a crime, so no autopsy107 was held; the tomb was closed, and not the slightest suspicion had approached her.
But the marquise had only gained half her purpose. She had now more freedom for her love affairs, but her father's dispositions108 were not so favourable109 as she expected: the greater part of his property, together with his business, passed to the elder brother and to the second brother, who was Parliamentary councillor; the position of, the marquise was very little improved in point of fortune.
Sainte-Croix was leading a fine and joyous life. Although nobody supposed him to be wealthy, he had a steward called Martin, three lackeys110 called George, Lapierre, and Lachaussee, and besides his coach and other carriages he kept ordinary bearers for excursions at night. As he was young and good-looking, nobody troubled about where all these luxuries came from. It was quite the custom in those days that a well-set-up young gentleman should want for nothing, and Sainte-Croix was commonly said to have found the philosopher's stone. In his life in the world he had formed friendships with various persons, some noble, some rich: among the latter was a man named Reich de Penautier, receiver-general of the clergy112 and treasurer113 of the States of Languedoc, a millionaire, and one of those men who are always successful, and who seem able by the help of their money to arrange matters that would appear to be in the province of God alone. This Penautier was connected in business with a man called d'Alibert, his first clerk, who died all of a sudden of apoplexy. The attack was known to Penautier sooner than to his own family: then the papers about the conditions of partnership114 disappeared, no one knew how, and d'Alibert's wife and child were ruined. D'Alibert's brother-in-law, who was Sieur de la Magdelaine, felt certain vague suspicions concerning this death, and wished to get to the bottom of it; he accordingly began investigations115, which were suddenly brought to an end by his death.
In one way alone Fortune seemed to have abandoned her favourite: Maitre Penautier had a great desire to succeed the Sieur of Mennevillette, who was receiver of the clergy, and this office was worth nearly 60,000 livres. Penautier knew that Mennevillette was retiring in favour of his chief clerk, Messire Pierre Hannyvel, Sieur de Saint-Laurent, and he had taken all the necessary, steps for buying the place over his head: the Sieur de Saint-Laurent, with the full support of the clergy, obtained the reversion for nothing—a thing that never happened before. Penautier then offered him 40,000 crowns to go halves, but Saint-Laurent refused. Their relations, however, were not broken off, and they continued to meet. Penautier was considered such a lucky fellow that it was generally expected he would somehow or other get some day the post he coveted116 so highly. People who had no faith in the mysteries of alchemy declared that Sainte-Croix and Penautier did business together.
Now, when the period for mourning was over, the relations of the marquise and Sainte-Croix were as open and public as before: the two brothers d'Aubray expostulated with her by the medium of an older sister who was in a Carmelite nunnery, and the marquise perceived that her father had on his death bequeathed the care and supervision118 of her to her brothers. Thus her first crime had been all but in vain: she had wanted to get rid of her father's rebukes119 and to gain his fortune; as a fact the fortune was diminished by reason of her elder brothers, and she had scarcely enough to pay her debts; while the rebukes were renewed from the mouths of her brothers, one of whom, being civil lieutenant, had the power to separate her again from her lover. This must be prevented. Lachaussee left the service of Sainte-Croix, and by a contrivance of the marquise was installed three months later as servant of the elder brother, who lived with the civil lieutenant. The poison to be used on this occasion was not so swift as the one taken by M. d'Aubray so violent a death happening so soon in the same family might arouse suspicion. Experiments were tried once more, not on animals—for their different organisation120 might put the poisoner's science in the wrong—but as before upon human subjects; as before, a 'corpus vili' was taken. The marquise had the reputation of a pious121 and charitable lady; seldom did she fail to relieve the poor who appealed: more than this, she took part in the work of those devoted women who are pledged to the service of the sick, and she walked the hospitals and presented wine and other medicaments. No one was surprised when she appeared in her ordinary way at l'Hotel-Dieu. This time she brought biscuits and cakes for the convalescent patients, her gifts being, as usual, gratefully received. A month later she paid another visit, and inquired after certain patients in whom she was particularly interested: since the last time she came they had suffered a relapse—the malady had changed in nature, and had shown graver symptoms. It was a kind of deadly fatigue122, killing123 them by a slows strange decay. She asked questions of the doctors but could learn nothing: this malady was unknown to them, and defied all the resources of their art. A fortnight later she returned. Some of the sick people were dead, others still alive, but desperately124 ill; living skeletons, all that seemed left of them was sight, speech, and breath. At the end of two months they were all dead, and the physicians had been as much at a loss over the post-mortems as over the treatment of the dying.
Experiments of this kind were reassuring125; so Lachaussee had orders to carry out his instructions. One day the civil lieutenant rang his bell, and Lachaussee, who served the councillor, as we said before, came up for orders. He found the lieutenant at work with his secretary, Couste what he wanted was a glass of wine and water. In a moment Lachaussee brought it in. The lieutenant put the glass to his lips, but at the first sip79 pushed it away, crying, "What have you brought, you wretch126? I believe you want to poison me." Then handing the glass to his secretary, he added, "Look at it, Couste: what is this stuff?" The secretary put a few drops into a coffee-spoon, lifting it to his nose and then to his mouth: the drink had the smell and taste of vitriol. Meanwhile Lachaussee went up to the secretary and told him he knew what it must be: one of the councillor's valets had taken a dose of medicine that morning, and without noticing he must have brought the very glass his companion had used. Saying this, he took the glass from the secretary's hand, put it to his lips, pretending to taste it himself, and then said he had no doubt it was so, for he recognised the smell. He then threw the wine into the fireplace.
As the lieutenant had not drunk enough to be upset by it, he soon forgot this incident and the suspicions that had been aroused at the moment in his mind. Sainte-Croix and the marquise perceived that they had made a false step, and at the risk of involving several people in their plan for vengeance, they decided on the employment of other means. Three months passed without any favourable occasion presenting itself; at last, on one of the early days of April 1670, the lieutenant took his brother to his country place, Villequoy, in Beauce, to spend the Easter vacation. Lachaussee was with his master, and received his instructions at the moment of departure.
The day after they arrived in the country there was a pigeon-pie for dinner: seven persons who had eaten it felt indisposed after the meal, and the three who had not taken it were perfectly well. Those on whom the poisonous substance had chiefly acted were the lieutenant, the councillor, and the commandant of the watch. He may have eaten more, or possibly the poison he had tasted on the former occasion helped, but at any rate the lieutenant was the first to be attacked with vomiting two hours later, the councillor showed the same symptoms; the commandant and the others were a prey127 for several hours to frightful internal pains; but from the beginning their condition was not nearly so grave as that of the two brothers. This time again, as usual, the help of doctors was useless. On the 12th of April, five days after they had been poisoned, the lieutenant and his brother returned to Paris so changed that anyone would have thought they had both suffered a long and cruel illness. Madame de Brinvilliers was in the country at the time, and did not come back during the whole time that her brothers were ill. From the very first consultation128 in the lieutenant's case the doctors entertained no hope. The symptoms were the same as those to which his father had succumbed129, and they supposed it was an unknown disease in the family. They gave up all hope of recovery. Indeed, his state grew worse and worse; he felt an unconquerable aversion for every kind of food, and the vomiting was incessant130. The last three days of his life he complained that a fire was burning in his breast, and the flames that burned within seemed to blaze forth at his eyes, the only part of his body that appeared to live, so like a corpse131 was all the rest of him. On the 17th of June 1670 he died: the poison had taken seventy-two days to complete its work. Suspicion began to dawn: the lieutenant's body was opened, and a formal report was drawn up. The operation was performed in the presence of the surgeons Dupre and Durant, and Gavart, the apothecary132, by M. Bachot, the brothers' private physician. They found the stomach and duodenum to be black and falling to pieces, the liver burnt and gangrened. They said that this state of things must have been produced by poison, but as the presence of certain bodily humours sometimes produces similar appearances, they durst not declare that the lieutenant's death could not have come about by natural causes, and he was buried without further inquiry.
It was as his private physician that Dr. Bachot had asked for the autopsy of his patient's brother. For the younger brother seemed to have been attacked by the same complaint, and the doctor hoped to find from the death of the one some means for preserving the life of the other. The councillor was in a violent fever, agitated133 unceasingly both in body and mind: he could not bear any position of any kind for more than a few minutes at a time. Bed was a place of torture; but if he got up, he cried for it again, at least for a change of suffering. At the end of three months he died. His stomach, duodenum, and liver were all in the same corrupt134 state as his brother's, and more than that, the surface of his body was burnt away. This, said the doctors; was no dubious135 sign of poisoning; although, they added, it sometimes happened that a 'cacochyme' produced the same effect. Lachaussee was so far from being suspected, that the councillor, in recognition of the care he had bestowed136 on him in his last illness, left him in his will a legacy137 of a hundred crowns; moreover, he received a thousand francs from Sainte-Croix and the marquise.
So great a disaster in one family, however, was not only sad but alarming. Death knows no hatred138: death is deaf and blind, nothing more, and astonishment139 was felt at this ruthless destruction of all who bore one name. Still nobody suspected the true culprits, search was fruitless, inquiries140 led nowhere: the marquise put on mourning for her brothers, Sainte-Croix continued in his path of folly141, and all things went on as before. Meanwhile Sainte-Croix had made the acquaintance of the Sieur de Saint Laurent, the same man from whom Penautier had asked for a post without success, and had made friends with him. Penautier had meanwhile become the heir of his father-in-law, the Sieur Lesecq, whose death had most unexpectedly occurred; he had thereby142 gained a second post in Languedoc and an immense property: still, he coveted the place of receiver of the clergy. Chance now once more helped him: a few days after taking over from Sainte-Croix a man-servant named George, M. de Saint-Laurent fell sick, and his illness showed symptoms similar to those observed in the case of the d'Aubrays, father and sons; but it was more rapid, lasting143 only twenty-four hours. Like them, M. de Saint-Laurent died a prey to frightful tortures. The same day an officer from the sovereign's court came to see him, heard every detail connected with his friend's death, and when told of the symptoms said before the servants to Sainfray the notary144 that it would be necessary to examine the body. An hour later George disappeared, saying nothing to anybody, and not even asking for his wages. Suspicions were excited; but again they remained vague. The autopsy showed a state of things not precisely145 to be called peculiar146 to poisoning cases the intestines147, which the fatal poison had not had time to burn as in the case of the d'Aubrays, were marked with reddish spots like flea-bites. In June Penautier obtained the post that had been held by the Sieur de Saint-Laurent.
But the widow had certain suspicions which were changed into something like certainty by George's flight. A particular circumstance aided and almost confirmed her doubts. An abbe who was a friend of her husband, and knew all about the disappearance148 of George, met him some days afterwards in the rue des Masons, near the Sorbonne. They were both on the same side, and a hay-cart coming along the street was causing a block. George raised his head and saw the abbe, knew him as a friend of his late master, stooped under the cart and crawled to the other side, thus at the risk of being crushed escaping from the eyes of a man whose appearance recalled his crime and inspired him with fear of punishment. Madame de Saint-Laurent preferred a charge against George, but though he was sought for everywhere, he could never be found. Still the report of these strange deaths, so sudden and so incomprehensible, was bruited149 about Paris, and people began to feel frightened. Sainte-Croix, always in the gay world, encountered the talk in drawing-rooms, and began to feel a little uneasy. True, no suspicion pointed as yet in his direction; but it was as well to take precautions, and Sainte-Croix began to consider how he could be freed from anxiety. There was a post in the king's service soon to be vacant, which would cost 100,000 crowns; and although Sainte-Croix had no apparent means, it was rumoured150 that he was about to purchase it. He first addressed himself to Belleguise to treat about this affair with Penautier. There was some difficulty, however, to be encountered in this quarter. The sum was a large one, and Penautier no longer required help; he had already come into all the inheritance he looked for, and so he tried to throw cold water on the project.
Sainte-Croix thus wrote to Belleguise:
"DEAR FRIEND,—Is it possible that you need any more talking to about the matter you know of, so important as it is, and, maybe, able to give us peace and quiet for the rest of our days! I really think the devil must be in it, or else you simply will not be sensible: do show your common sense, my good man, and look at it from all points of view; take it at its very worst, and you still ought to feel bound to serve me, seeing how I have made everything all right for you: all our interests are together in this matter. Do help me, I beg of you; you may feel sure I shall be deeply grateful, and you will never before have acted so agreeably both for me and for yourself. You know quite enough about it, for I have not spoken so openly even to my own brother as I have to you. If you can come this afternoon, I shall be either at the house or quite near at hand, you know where I mean, or I will expect you tomorrow morning, or I will come and find you, according to what you reply.—Always yours with all my heart."
The house meant by Sainte-Croix was in the rue des Bernardins, and the place near at hand where he was to wait for Belleguise was the room he leased from the widow Brunet, in the blind alley out of the Place Maubert. It was in this room and at the apothecary Glazer152's that Sainte-Croix made his experiments; but in accordance with poetical153 justice, the manipulation of the poisons proved fatal to the workers themselves. The apothecary fell ill and died; Martin was attacked by fearful sickness, which brought, him to death's door. Sainte-Croix was unwell, and could not even go out, though he did not know what was the matter. He had a furnace brought round to his house from Glazer's, and ill as he was, went on with the experiments. Sainte-Croix was then seeking to make a poison so subtle that the very effluvia might be fatal. He had heard of the poisoned napkin given to the young dauphin, elder brother of Charles VII, to wipe his hands on during a game of tennis, and knew that the contact had caused his death; and the still discussed tradition had informed him of the gloves of Jeanne d'Albret; the secret was lost, but Sainte-Croix hoped to recover it. And then there happened one of those strange accidents which seem to be not the hand of chance but a punishment from Heaven. At the very moment when Sainte-Croix was bending over his furnace, watching the fatal preparation as it became hotter and hotter, the glass mask which he wore over his face as a protection from any poisonous exhalations that might rise up from the mixture, suddenly dropped off, and Sainte-Croix dropped to the ground as though felled by a lightning stroke. At supper-time, his wife finding that he did not come out from his closet where he was shut in, knocked at the door, and received no answer; knowing that her husband was wont154 to busy himself with dark and mysterious matters, she feared some disaster had occurred. She called her servants, who broke in the door. Then she found Sainte-Croix stretched out beside the furnace, the broken glass lying by his side. It was impossible to deceive the public as to the circumstances of this strange and sudden death: the servants had seen the corpse, and they talked. The commissary Picard was ordered to affix155 the seals, and all the widow could do was to remove the furnace and the fragments of the glass mask.
The noise of the event soon spread all over Paris. Sainte-Croix was extremely well known, and the, news that he was about to purchase a post in the court had made him known even more widely. Lachaussee was one of the first to learn of his master's death; and hearing that a seal had been set upon his room, he hastened to put in an objection in these terms:
"Objection of Lachaussee, who asserts that for seven years he was in the service of the deceased; that he had given into his charge, two years earlier, 100 pistoles and 200 white crowns, which should be found in a cloth bag under the closet window, and in the same a paper stating that the said sum belonged to him, together with the transfer of 300 livres owed to him by the late M. d'Aubray, councillor; the said transfer made by him at Laserre, together with three receipts from his master of apprenticeship156, 100 livres each: these moneys and papers he claims."
To Lachaussee the reply was given that he must wait till the day when the seals were broken, and then if all was as he said, his property would be returned.
But Lachaussee was not the only person who was agitated about the death of Sainte-Croix. The, marquise, who was familiar with all the secrets of this fatal closet, had hurried to the commissary as 2496 soon as she heard of the event, and although it was ten o'clock at night had demanded to speak with him. But he had replied by his head clerk, Pierre Frater, that he was in bed; the marquise insisted, begging them to rouse him up, for she wanted a box that she could not allow to have opened. The clerk then went up to the Sieur Picard's bedroom, but came back saying that what the marquise demanded was for the time being an impossibility, for the commissary was asleep. She saw that it was idle to insist, and went away, saying that she should send a man the next morning to fetch the box. In the morning the man came, offering fifty Louis to the commissary on behalf of the marquise, if he would give her the box. But he replied that the box was in the sealed room, that it would have to be opened, and that if the objects claimed by the marquise were really hers, they would be safely handed over to her. This reply struck the marquise like a thunderbolt. There was no time to be lost: hastily she removed from the rue Neuve-Saint-Paul, where her town house was, to Picpus, her country place. Thence she posted the same evening to Liege, arriving the next morning, and retired to a convent.
The seals had been set on the 31st of July 1672, and they were taken off on the 8th of August following. Just as they set to work a lawyer charged with full powers of acting157 for the marquise, appeared and put in the following statement: "Alexandre Delamarre, lawyer acting for the Marquise de Brinvilliers, has come forward, and declares that if in the box claimed by his client there is found a promise signed by her for the sum of 30,000 livres, it is a paper taken from her by fraud, against which, in case of her signature being verified, she intends to lodge55 an appeal for nullification." This formality over, they proceeded to open Sainte-Croix's closet: the key was handed to the commissary Picard by a Carmelite called Friar Victorin. The commissary opened the door, and entered with the parties interested, the officers, and the widow, and they began by setting aside the loose papers, with a view to taking them in order, one at a time. While they were thus busy, a small roll fell down, on which these two words were written: "My Confession159." All present, having no reason to suppose Sainte-Croix a bad man, decided that this paper ought not to be read. The deputy for the attorney general on being consulted was of this opinion, and the confession of Sainte-Croix was burnt. This act of conscience performed, they proceeded to make an inventory160. One of the first objects that attracted the attention of the officers was the box claimed by Madame de Brinvilliers. Her insistence161 had provoked curiosity, so they began with it. Everybody went near to see what was in it, and it was opened.
We shall let the report speak: in such cases nothing is so effective or so terrible as the official statement.
"In the closet of Sainte-Croix was found a small box one foot square, on the top of which lay a half-sheet of paper entitled 'My Will,' written on one side and containing these words: 'I humbly162 entreat96 any into whose hands this chest may fall to do me the kindness of putting it into the hands of Madame the Marquise de Brinvilliers, resident in the rue Neuve-Saint-Paul, seeing that all the contents concern and belong to her alone, and are of no use to any person in the world apart from herself: in case of her being already dead before me, the box and all its contents should be burnt without opening or disturbing anything. And lest anyone should plead ignorance of the contents, I swear by the God I worship and by all that is most sacred that no untruth is here asserted. If anyone should contravene163 my wishes that are just and reasonable in this matter, I charge their conscience therewith in discharging my own in this world and the next, protesting that such is my last wish.
"'Given at Paris, the 25th of May after noon, 1672. Signed by Sainte-Croix,'
"And below were written these words: 'There is one packet only addressed to M. Penautier which should be delivered.'"
It may be easily understood that a disclosure of this kind only increased the interest of the scene; there was a murmur164 of curiosity, and when silence again reigned165, the official continued in these words:
"A packet has been found sealed in eight different places with eight different seals. On this is written: 'Papers to be burnt in case of my death, of no consequence to anyone. I humbly beg those into whose hands they may fall to burn them. I give this as a charge upon their conscience; all without opening the packet.' In this packet we find two parcels of sublimate166.
"Item, another packet sealed with six different seals, on which is a similar inscription167, in which is found more sublimate, half a pound in weight.
"Item, another packet sealed with six different seals, on which is a similar inscription, in which are found three parcels, one containing half an ounce of sublimate, the second 2 1/4 ozs. of Roman vitriol, and the third some calcined prepared vitriol. In the box was found a large square phial, one pint168 in capacity, full of a clear liquid, which was looked at by M. Moreau, the doctor; he, however, could not tell its nature until it was tested.
"Item, another phial, with half a pint of clear liquid with a white sediment169, about which Moreau said the same thing as before.
"Next, a little box containing a sort of stone known as infernal stone.
"Next, a paper containing one ounce of opium.
"Next, a piece of pure antimony weighing three ounces.
"Next, a packet of powder on which was written: 'To check the flow of blood.' Moreau said that it was quince flower and quince buds dried.
"Item, a pack sealed with six seals, on which was written, 'Papers to be burnt in case of death.' In this twenty-four letters were found, said to have been written by the Marquise de Brinvilliers.
"Item, another packet sealed with six seals, on which a similar inscription was written. In this were twenty-seven pieces of paper on each of which was written: 'Sundry173 curious secrets.'
"Item, another packet with six more seals, on which a similar inscription was written. In this were found seventy-five livres, addressed to different persons. Besides all these, in the box there were two bonds, one from the marquise for 30,000, and one from Penautier for 10,000 francs, their dates corresponding to the time of the deaths of M. d'Aubray and the Sieur de St. Laurent."
The difference in the amount shows that Sainte-Croix had a tariff174, and that parricide175 was more expensive than simple assassination176. Thus in his death did Sainte-Croix bequeath the poisons to his mistress and his friend; not content with his own crimes in the past, he wished to be their accomplice177 in the future.
The first business of the officials was to submit the different substances to analysis, and to experiment with them on animals. The report follows of Guy Simon, an apothecary, who was charged to undertake the analysis and the experiments:
"This artificial poison reveals its nature on examination. It is so disguised that one fails to recognise it, so subtle that it deceives the scientific, so elusive178 that it escapes the doctor's eye: experiments seem to be at fault with this poison, rules useless, aphorisms179 ridiculous. The surest experiments are made by the use of the elements or upon animals. In water, ordinary poison falls by its own weight. The water is superior, the poison obeys, falls downwards180, and takes the lower place.
"The trial by fire is no less certain: the fire evaporates and disperses181 all that is innocent and pure, leaving only acrid182 and sour matter which resists its influence. The effect produced by poisons on animals is still more plain to see: its malignity183 extends to every part that it reaches, and all that it touches is vitiated; it burns and scorches184 all the inner parts with a strange, irresistible185 fire.
"The poison employed by Sainte-Croix has been tried in all the ways, and can defy every experiment. This poison floats in water, it is the superior, and the water obeys it; it escapes in the trial by fire, leaving behind only innocent deposits; in animals it is so skilfully186 concealed that no one could detect it; all parts of the animal remain healthy and active; even while it is spreading the cause of death, this artificial poison leaves behind the marks and appearance of life. Every sort of experiment has been tried. The first was to pour out several drops of the liquid found into oil of tartar and sea water, and nothing was precipitated187 into the vessels188 used; the second was to pour the same liquid into a sanded vessel189, and at the bottom there was found nothing acrid or acid to the tongue, scarcely any stains; the third experiment was tried upon an Indian fowl190, a pigeon, a dog, and some other animals, which died soon after. When they were opened, however, nothing was found but a little coagulated blood in the ventricle of the heart. Another experiment was giving a white powder to a cat, in a morsel191 of mutton. The cat vomited192 for half an hour, and was found dead the next day, but when opened no part of it was found to be affected193 by the poison. A second trial of the same poison was made upon a pigeon, which soon died. When opened, nothing peculiar was found except a little reddish water in the stomach."
These experiments proved that Sainte-Croix was a learned chemist, and suggested the idea that he did not employ his art for nothing; everybody recalled the sudden, unexpected deaths that had occurred, and the bonds from the marquise and from Penautier looked like blood-money. As one of these two was absent, and the other so powerful and rich that they dared not arrest him without proofs, attention was now paid to the objection put in by Lachaussee.
It was said in the objection that Lachaussee had spent seven years in the service of Sainte-Croix, so he could not have considered the time he had passed with the d'Aubrays as an interruption to this service. The bag containing the thousand pistoles and the three bonds for a hundred livres had been found in the place indicated; thus Lachaussee had a thorough knowledge of this closet: if he knew the closet, he would know about the box; if he knew about the box, he could not be an innocent man. This was enough to induce Madame Mangot de Villarceaux, the lieutenant's widow, to lodge an accusation194 against him, and in consequence a writ158 was issued against Lachaussee, and he was arrested.
When this happened, poison was found upon him. The trial came on before the Chatelet. Lachaussee denied his guilt obstinately195. The judges thinking they had no sufficient proof, ordered the preparatory question to be applied196. Mme. Mangot appealed from a judgment197 which would probably save the culprit if he had the strength to resist the torture and own to nothing;
[Note: There were two kinds of question, one before and one after the sentence was passed. In the first, an accused person would endure frightful torture in the hope of saving his life, and so would often confess nothing. In the second, there was no hope, and therefore it was not worth while to suffer additional pains.]
so, in virtue19 of this appeal, a judgment, on March 4th, 1673, declared that Jean Amelin Lachaussee was convicted of having poisoned the lieutenant and the councillor; for which he was to be broken alive on the wheel, having been first subjected to the question both ordinary and extraordinary, with a view to the discovery of his accomplices198. At the same time Madame de Brinvilliers was condemned199 in default of appearance to have her head cut off.
Lachaussee suffered the torture of the boot. This was having each leg fastened between two planks200 and drawn together in an iron ring, after which wedges were driven in between the middle planks; the ordinary question was with four wedges, the extraordinary with eight. At the third wedge Lachaussee said he was ready to speak; so the question was stopped, and he was carried into the choir201 of the chapel202 stretched on a mattress203, where, in a weak voice—for he could hardly speak—he begged for half an hour to recover himself. We give a verbatim extract from the report of the question and the execution of the death-sentence:
"Lachaussee, released from the question and laid on the mattress, the official reporter retired. Half an hour later Lachaussee begged that he might return, and said that he was guilty; that Sainte-Croix told him that Madame de Brinvilliers had given him the poison to administer to her brothers; that he had done it in water and soup, had put the reddish water in the lieutenant's glass in Paris, and the clear water in the pie at Villequoy; that Sainte-Croix had promised to keep him always, and to make him a gift of 100 pistolets; that he gave him an account of the effect of the poisons, and that Sainte-Croix had given him some of the waters several times. Sainte-Croix told him that the marquise knew nothing of his other poisonings, but Lachaussee thought she did know, because she had often spoken to him about his poisons; that she wanted to compel him to go away, offering him money if he would go; that she had asked him for the box and its contents; that if Sainte-Croix had been able to put anyone into the service of Madame d'Aubray, the lieutenant's widow, he would possibly have had her poisoned also; for he had a fancy for her daughter."
This declaration, which left no room for doubt, led to the judgment that came next, thus described in the Parliamentary register: "Report of the question and execution on the 24th of March 1673, containing the declarations and confessions204 of Jean Amelin Lachaussee; the court has ordered that the persons mentioned, Belleguise, Martin, Poitevin, Olivier, Veron pere, the wife of Quesdon the wigmaker, be summoned to appear before the court to be interrogated205 and heard concerning matters arising from the present inquiry, and orders that the decree of arrest against Lapierre and summons against Penautier decreed by the criminal lieutenant shall be carried out. In Parliament, 27th March 1673." In virtue of this judgment, Penautier, Martin, and Belleguise were interrogated on the 21st, 22nd, and 24th of April. On the 26th of July, Penautier was discharged; fuller information was desired concerning Belleguise, and the arrest of Martin was ordered. On the 24th of March, Lachaussee had been broken on the wheel. As to Exili, the beginner of it all, he had disappeared like Mephistopheles after Faust's end, and nothing was heard of him. Towards the end of the year Martin was released for want of sufficient evidence. But the Marquise de Brinvilliers remained at Liege, and although she was shut up in a convent she had by no means abandoned one, at any rate, of the most worldly pleasures. She had soon found consolation206 for the death of Sainte-Croix, whom, all the same, she had loved so much as to be willing to kill herself for his sake. But she had adopted a new lover, Theria by name. About this man it has been impossible to get any information, except that his name was several times mentioned during the trial. Thus, all the accusations207 had, one by one, fallen upon her, and it was resolved to seek her out in the retreat where she was supposed to be safe. The mission was difficult and very delicate. Desgrais, one of the cleverest of the officials, offered to undertake it. He was a handsome man, thirty-six years old or thereabouts: nothing in his looks betrayed his connection with the police; he wore any kind of dress with equal ease and grace, and was familiar with every grade in the social scale, disguising himself as a wretched tramp or a noble lord. He was just the right man, so his offer was accepted.
He started accordingly for Liege, escorted by several archers208, and, fortified by a letter from the king addressed to the Sixty of that town, wherein Louis xiv demanded the guilty woman to be given up for punishment. After examining the letter, which Desgrais had taken pains to procure36, the council authorised the extradition210 of the marquise.
This was much, but it was not all. The marquise, as we know, had taken refuge in a convent, where Desgrais dared not arrest her by force, for two reasons: first, because she might get information beforehand, and hide herself in one of the cloister211 retreats whose secret is known only to the superior; secondly212, because Liege was so religious a town that the event would produce a great sensation: the act might be looked upon as a sacrilege, and might bring about a popular rising, during which the marquise might possibly contrive213 to escape. So Desgrais paid a visit to his wardrobe, and feeling that an abbe's dress would best free him from suspicion, he appeared at the doors of the convent in the guise151 of a fellow-countryman just returned from Rome, unwilling214 to pass through Liege without presenting his compliments to the lovely and unfortunate marquise. Desgrais had just the manner of the younger son of a great house: he was as flattering as a courtier, as enterprising as a musketeer. In this first visit he made himself attractive by his wit and his audacity215, so much so that more easily than he had dared to hope, he got leave to pay a second call. The second visit was not long delayed: Desgrais presented himself the very next day. Such eagerness was flattering to the marquise, so Desgrais was received even better than the night before. She, a woman of rank and fashion, for more than a year had been robbed of all intercourse216 with people of a certain set, so with Desgrais the marquise resumed her Parisian manner. Unhappily the charming abbe was to leave Liege in a few days; and on that account he became all the more pressing, and a third visit, to take place next day, was formally arranged. Desgrais was punctual: the marquise was impatiently waiting him; but by a conjunction of circumstances that Desgrais had no doubt arranged beforehand, the amorous217 meeting was disturbed two or three times just as they were getting more intimate and least wanting to be observed. Desgrais complained of these tiresome218 checks; besides, the marquise and he too would be compromised: he owed concealment219 to his cloth: He begged her to grant him a rendezvous220 outside the town, in some deserted221 walk, where there would be no fear of their being recognised or followed: the marquise hesitated no longer than would serve to put a price on the favour she was granting, and the rendezvous was fixed for the same evening.
The evening came: both waited with the same impatience222, but with very different hopes. The marquise found Desgrais at the appointed spot: he gave her his arm then holding her hand in his own, he gave a sign, the archers appeared, the lover threw off his mask, Desgrais was confessed, and the marquise was his prisoner. Desgrais left her in the hands of his men, and hastily made his way to the convent. Then, and not before, he produced his order from the Sixty, by means of which he opened the marquise's room. Under her bed he found a box, which he seized and sealed; then he went back to her, and gave the order to start.
When the marquise saw the box in the hands of Desgrais, she at first appeared stunned223; quickly recovering, she claimed a paper inside it which contained her confession. Desgrais refused, and as he turned round for the carriage to come forward, she tried to choke herself by swallowing a pin. One of the archers, called Claude, Rolla, perceiving her intention, contrived224 to get the pin out of her mouth. After this, Desgrais commanded that she should be doubly watched.
They stopped for supper. An archer209 called Antoine Barbier was present at the meal, and watched so that no knife or fork should be put on the table, or any instrument with which she could wound or kill herself. The marquise, as she put her glass to her mouth as though to drink, broke a little bit off with her teeth; but the archer saw it in time, and forced her to put it out on her plate. Then she promised him, if he would save her, that she would make his fortune. He asked what he would have to do for that. She proposed that he should cut Desgrais' throat; but he refused, saying that he was at her service in any other way. So she asked him for pen and paper, and wrote this letter:
"DEAR THERIA,—I am in the hands of Desgrais, who is taking me by road from Liege to Paris. Come quickly and save me."
Antoine Barbier took the letter, promising225 to deliver it at the right address; but he gave it to Desgrais instead. The next day, finding that this letter had not been pressing enough, she wrote him another, saying that the escort was only eight men, who could be easily overcome by four or five determined226 assailants, and she counted on him to strike this bald stroke. But, uneasy when she got no answer and no result from her letters, she despatched a third missive to Theria. In this she implored227 him by his own salvation228, if he were not strong enough to attack her escort and save her, at least to kill two of the four horses by which she was conveyed, and to profit by the moment of confusion to seize the chest and throw it into the fire; otherwise, she declared, she was lost. Though Theria received none of these letters, which were one by one handed over by Barbier to Desgrais, he all the same did go to Maestricht, where the marquise was to pass, of his own accord. There he tried to bribe229 the archers, offering much as 10,000 livres, but they were incorruptible. At Rocroy the cortege met M. Palluau, the councillor, whom the Parliament had sent after the prisoner, that he might put questions to her at a time when she least expected them, and so would not have prepared her answers. Desgrais told him all that had passed, and specially84 called his attention to the famous box, the object of so much anxiety and so many eager instructions. M. de Palluau opened it, and found among other things a paper headed "My Confession." This confession was a proof that the guilty feel great need of discovering their crimes either to mankind or to a merciful God. Sainte-Croix, we know, had made a confession that was burnt, and here was the marquise equally imprudent. The confession contained seven articles, and began thus, "I confess to God, and to you, my father," and was a complete avowal230, of all the crimes she had committed.
In the first article she accused herself of incendiarism;
In the third of having poisoned her father;
In the fourth, of having poisoned her two brothers;
The two other articles were concerned with the description of strange and unnatural232 sins. In this woman there was something of Locusta and something of Messalina as well: antiquity233 could go no further.
M de Palluau, fortified by his knowledge of this important document, began his examination forthwith. We give it verbatim, rejoicing that we may substitute an official report for our own narrative.
Asked why she fled to Liege, she replied that she left France on account of some business with her sister-in-law.
Asked if she had any knowledge of the papers found in the box, she replied that in the box there were several family papers, and among them a general confession which she desired to make; when she wrote it, however, her mind was disordered; she knew not what she had said or done, being distraught at the time, in a foreign country, deserted by her relatives, forced to borrow every penny.
Asked as to the first article, what house it was she had burnt, she replied that she had not burnt anything, but when she wrote that she was out of her senses.
Asked about the six other articles she replied that she had no recollection of them.
Asked if she had not poisoned her father and brothers, she replied that she knew nothing at all about it.
Asked if it were not Lachaussee who poisoned her brothers, she replied that she knew nothing about it.
Asked if she did not know that her sister could not live long, having been poisoned, she said that she expected her sister to die, because she suffered in the same way as her brothers; that she had lost all memory of the time when she wrote this confession; admitted that she left France by the advice of her relations.
Asked why her relations had advised her thus, she replied that it was in connection with her brothers' affairs; admitted seeing Sainte-Croix since his release from the Bastille.
Asked if Sainte-Croix had not persuaded her to get rid of her father, she replied that she could not remember; neither did she remember if Sainte-Croix had given her powders or other drugs, nor if Sainte-Croix had told her he knew how to make her rich.
Eight letters having been produced, asked to whom she had written them, she replied that she did not remember.
Asked why she had promised to pay 30,000 livres to Sainte-Croix, she replied that she intended to entrust234 this sum to his care, so that she might make use of it when she wanted it, believing him to be her friend; she had not wished this to be known, by reason of her creditors235; that she had an acknowledgment from Sainte-Croix, but had lost it in her travels; that her husband knew nothing about it.
Asked if the promise was made before or after the death of her brothers, she replied that she could not remember, and it made no difference.
Asked if she knew an apothecary called Glazer, she replied that she had consulted him three times about inflammation.
Asked why she wrote to Theria to get hold of the box, she replied that she did not understand.
Asked why, in writing to Theria, she had said she was lost unless he got hold of the box, she replied that she could not remember.
Asked if she had seen during the journey with her father the first symptoms of his malady, she replied that she had not noticed that her father was ill on the journey, either going or coming back in 1666.
Asked if she had not done business with Penautier, she replied that Penautier owed her 30,000 livres.
Asked how this was, she replied that she and her husband had lent Penautier 10,000 crowns, that he had paid it back, and since then they had had no dealings with him.
The marquise took refuge, we see, in a complete system of denial: arrived in Paris, and confined in the Conciergerie, she did the same; but soon other terrible charges were added, which still further overwhelmed her.
The sergeant3 Cluet deposed236: that, observing a lackey111 to M. d'Aubray, the councillor, to be the man Lachaussee, whom he had seen in the service of Sainte-Croix, he said to the marquise that if her brother knew that Lachaussee had been with Sainte-Croix he would not like it, but that Madame de Brinvilliers exclaimed, "Dear me, don't tell my brothers; they would give him a thrashing, no doubt, and he may just as well get his wages as any body else." He said nothing to the d'Aubrays, though he saw Lachaussee paying daily visits to Sainte-Croix and to the marquise, who was worrying Sainte-Croix to let her have her box, and wanted her bill for two or three thousand pistoles. Other wise she would have had him assassinated237. She often said that she was very anxious that no one should see the contents of the box; that it was a very important matter, but only concerned herself. After the box was opened, the witness added, he had told the marquise, that the commissary Picard said to Lachaussee that there were strange things in it; but the lady blushed, and changed the subject. He asked her if she were not an accomplice. She said, "What! I?" but then muttered to herself: "Lachaussee ought to be sent off to Picardy." The witness repeated that she had been after Sainte-Croix along time about the box, and if she had got it she would have had his throat cut. The witness further said that when he told Briancourt that Lachaussee was taken and would doubtless confess all, Briancourt, speaking of the marquise, remarked, "She is a lost woman." That d'Aubray's daughter had called Briancourt a rogue238, but Briancourt had replied that she little knew what obligations she was under to him; that they had wanted to poison both her and the lieutenant's widow, and he alone had hindered it. He had heard from Briancourt that the marquise had often said that there are means to get rid of people one dislikes, and they can easily be put an end to in a bowl of soup.
The girl Edme Huet, a woman of Brescia, deposed that Sainte-Croix went to see the marquise every day, and that in a box belonging to that lady she had seen two little packets containing sublimate in powder and in paste: she recognised these, because she was an apothecary's daughter. She added that one day Madame de Brinvilliers, after a dinner party, in a merry mood, said, showing her a little box, "Here is vengeance on one's enemies: this box is small, but holds plenty of successsions!" That she gave back the box into her hands, but soon changing from her sprightly239 mood, she cried, "Good heavens, what have I said? Tell nobody." That Lambert, clerk at the palace, told her he had brought the packets to Madame from Sainte-Croix; that Lachaussee often went to see her; and that she herself, not being paid ten pistoles which the marquise owed her, went to complain to Sainte-Croix, threatening to tell the lieutenant what she had seen; and accordingly the ten pistoles were paid; further, that the marquise and Sainte-Croix always kept poison about them, to make use of, in case of being arrested.
Laurent Perrette, living with Glazer, said that he had often seen a lady call on his mistress with Sainte-Croix; that the footman told him she was the Marquise de Brinvilliers; that he would wager240 his head on it that they came to Glazer's to make poison; that when they came they used to leave their carriage at the Foire Saint-Germain.
Marie de Villeray, maid to the marquise, deposed that after the death of M. d'Aubray the councillor, Lachaussee came to see the lady and spoke with her in private; that Briancourt said she had caused the death of a worthy241 men; that Briancourt every day took some electuary for fear of being poisoned, and it was no doubt due to this precaution that he was still alive; but he feared he would be stabbed, because she had told him the secret about the poisoning; that d'Aubray's daughter had to be warned; and that there was a similar design against the tutor of M. de Brinvillier's children. Marie de Villeray added that two days after the death of the councillor, when Lachaussee was in Madame's bedroom, Couste, the late lieutenant's secretary, was announced, and Lachaussee had to be hidden in the alcove242 by the bed. Lachaussee brought the marquise a letter from Sainte-Croix.
Francois Desgrais, officer, deposed that when he was given the king's orders he arrested the marquise at Liege; that he found under her bed a box which he sealed; that the lady had demanded a paper which was in it, containing her confession, but he refused it; that on the road to Paris the marquise had told him that she believed it was Glazer who made the poisons for Sainte-Croix; that Sainte-Croix, who had made a rendezvous with her one day at the cross Saint-Honore, there showed her four little bottles, saying, "See what Glazer has sent me." She asked him for one, but Sainte-Croix said he would rather die than give it up. He added that the archer Antoine Barbier had given him three letters written by the marquise to Theria; that in the first she had told him to come at once and snatch her from the hands of the soldiers; that in the second she said that the escort was only composed of eight persons, who could he worsted by five men; that in the third she said that if he could not save her from the men who were taking her away, he should at least approach the commissary, and killing his valet's horse and two other horses in his carriage, then take the box, and burn it; otherwise she was lost.
Laviolette, an archer, deposed that on the evening of the arrest, the marquise had a long pin and tried to put it in her mouth; that he stopped her, and told her that she was very wicked; that he perceived that people said the truth and that she had poisoned all her family; to which she replied, that if she had, it was only through following bad advice, and that one could not always be good.
Antoine Barbier, an archer, said that the marquise at table took up a glass as though to drink, and tried to swallow a piece of it; that he prevented this, and she promised to make his fortune if only he would save her; that she wrote several letters to Theria; that during the whole journey she tried all she could to swallow pins, bits of glass, and earth; that she had proposed that he should cut Desgrais' throat, and kill the commissary's valet; that she had bidden him get the box and burn it, and bring a lighted torch to burn everything; that she had written to Penautier from the Conciergerie; that she gave him, the letter, and he pretended to deliver it.
Finally, Francoise Roussel deposed that she had been in the service of the marquise, and the lady had one day given her some preserved gooseberries; that she had eaten some on the point of her knife, and at once felt ill. She also gave her a slice of mutton, rather wet, which she ate, afterwards suffering great pain in the stomach, feeling as though she had been pricked in the heart, and for three years had felt the same, believing herself poisoned.
It was difficult to continue a system of absolute denial in face of proofs like these. The marquise persisted, all the same, that she was in no way guilty; and Maitre Nivelle, one of the best lawyers of the period, consented to defend her cause.
He combated one charge after another, in a remarkably243 clever way, owning to the adulterous connection of the marquise with Sainte-Croix, but denying her participation244 in the murders of the d'Aubrays, father and sons: these he ascribed entirely245 to the vengeance desired by Sainte-Croix. As to the confession, the strongest and, he maintained, the only evidence against Madame de Brinvilliers, he attacked its validity by bringing forward certain similar cases, where the evidence supplied by the accused against themselves had not been admitted by reason of the legal action: 'Non auditur perire volens'. He cited three instances, and as they are themselves interesting, we copy them verbatim from his notes.
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1
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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6
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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7
intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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10
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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11
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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12
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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13
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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14
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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15
debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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16
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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17
prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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18
intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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20
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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21
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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22
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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26
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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28
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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29
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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30
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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scrupulosity
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| n.顾虑 | |
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35
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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37
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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38
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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39
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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40
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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41
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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42
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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43
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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44
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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45
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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46
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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47
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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48
proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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49
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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50
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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51
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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52
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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53
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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54
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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55
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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56
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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57
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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58
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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60
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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61
incarcerated
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| 钳闭的 | |
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62
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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63
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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64
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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67
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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71
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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72
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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73
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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75
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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77
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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80
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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81
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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82
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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83
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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84
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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85
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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87
vilest
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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88
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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89
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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90
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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91
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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92
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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93
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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94
vomiting
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| 吐 | |
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95
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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96
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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97
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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98
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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99
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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100
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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102
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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103
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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104
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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105
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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106
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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107
autopsy
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| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
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108
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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109
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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110
lackeys
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| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
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111
lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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112
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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113
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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114
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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115
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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116
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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117
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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118
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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119
rebukes
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的第三人称单数 ) | |
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120
organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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121
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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122
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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123
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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124
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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125
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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126
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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127
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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128
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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129
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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130
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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131
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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132
apothecary
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| n.药剂师 | |
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133
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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134
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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135
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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136
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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138
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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139
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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140
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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141
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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142
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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143
lasting
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|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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144
notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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145
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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146
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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147
intestines
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| n.肠( intestine的名词复数 ) | |
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148
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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149
bruited
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| v.传播（传说或谣言）( bruit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
rumoured
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|
| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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151
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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152
glazer
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| n.上釉工人，加光工人 | |
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153
poetical
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|
| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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154
wont
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|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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155
affix
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| n.附件，附录 vt.附贴，盖(章)，签署 | |
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156
apprenticeship
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|
| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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157
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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158
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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159
confession
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|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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160
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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161
insistence
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|
| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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162
humbly
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|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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163
contravene
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| v.违反，违背，反驳，反对 | |
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164
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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165
reigned
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|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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166
sublimate
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| v.(使)升华，净化 | |
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167
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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168
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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169
sediment
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| n.沉淀，沉渣，沉积(物) | |
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170
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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171
opium
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|
| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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172
corrosive
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|
| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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173
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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174
tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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175
parricide
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|
| n.杀父母；杀亲罪 | |
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176
assassination
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|
| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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177
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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178
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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179
aphorisms
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|
| 格言，警句( aphorism的名词复数 ) | |
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180
downwards
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|
| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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181
disperses
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| v.（使）分散( disperse的第三人称单数 )；疏散；驱散；散布 | |
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182
acrid
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|
| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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183
malignity
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|
| n.极度的恶意，恶毒；（病的）恶性 | |
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184
scorches
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的第三人称单数 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶 | |
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185
irresistible
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|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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186
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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187
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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188
vessels
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|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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189
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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190
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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191
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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192
vomited
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193
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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194
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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195
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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196
applied
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|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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197
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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198
accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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199
condemned
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|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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200
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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201
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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202
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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203
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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204
confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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205
interrogated
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|
| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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206
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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207
accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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208
archers
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| n.弓箭手，射箭运动员( archer的名词复数 ) | |
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209
archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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210
extradition
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| n.引渡（逃犯） | |
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211
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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212
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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213
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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214
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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215
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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216
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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217
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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218
tiresome
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|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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219
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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220
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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221
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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222
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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223
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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224
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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225
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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226
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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227
implored
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|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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228
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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229
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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230
avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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231
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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232
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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233
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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234
entrust
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| v.信赖，信托，交托 | |
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235
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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236
deposed
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| v.罢免( depose的过去式和过去分词 )；（在法庭上）宣誓作证 | |
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assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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238
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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239
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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240
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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241
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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242
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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243
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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244
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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