| Book the Second - the Golden Thread
24. XXIV. Drawn to the Loadstone Rock
 In such risings of fire and risings of sea--the firm earth shaken by
 the rushes of an angry ocean which had now no ebb, but was always on
 the flow, higher and higher, to the terror and wonder of the beholders
 on the shore--three years of tempest were consumed.  Three more
 birthdays of little Lucie had been woven by the golden thread into
 the peaceful tissue of the life of her home. Many a night and many a day had its inmates listened to the echoes in
 the corner, with hearts that failed them when they heard the thronging
 feet.  For, the footsteps had become to their minds as the footsteps
 of a people, tumultuous under a red flag and with their country declared
 in danger, changed into wild beasts, by terrible enchantment long
 persisted in. Monseigneur, as a class, had dissociated himself from the phenomenon
 of his not being appreciated:  of his being so little wanted in France,
 as to incur considerable danger of receiving his dismissal from it,
 and this life together.  Like the fabled rustic who raised the Devil
 with infinite pains, and was so terrified at the sight of him that he
 could ask the Enemy no question, but immediately fled; so, Monseigneur,
 after boldly reading the Lord's Prayer backwards for a great number of
 years, and performing many other potent spells for compelling the Evil
 One, no sooner beheld him in his terrors than he took to his noble heels. The shining Bull's Eye of the Court was gone, or it would have been
 the mark for a hurricane of national bullets.  It had never been a
 good eye to see with--had long had the mote in it of Lucifer's pride,
 Sardana--palus's luxury, and a mole's blindness--but it had dropped
 out and was gone.  The Court, from that exclusive inner circle to its
 outermost rotten ring of intrigue, corruption, and dissimulation, was
 all gone together.  Royalty was gone; had been besieged in its Palace
 and "suspended," when the last tidings came over. The August of the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two was
 come, and Monseigneur was by this time scattered far and wide. |