With all this splendor, this worship, this beauty; with these cheers
following her, and these crowds at her feet, was Amethyst happy? Ah, no!
It is not under the necklace the most brilliant that Briggs and Rumble
can supply, it is not in Lynch's best cushioned chariot that the heart
is most at ease. "Que je me ruinerai," says Fronsac in a letter to
Bossuet, "si je savais ou acheter le bonheur!"
With all her riches, with all her splendor, Amethyst was
wretched--wretched, because lonely; wretched, because her loving heart
had nothing to cling to. Her splendid mansion was a convent; no male
person even entered it, except Franklin Fox, (who counted for nothing,)
and the duchess's family, her kinsman old Lord Humpington, his friend
old Sir John Fogey, and her cousin, the odious, odious Borodino.
The Prince de Borodino declared openly that Amethyst was engaged to
him. Crible de dettes, it is no wonder that he should choose such an
opportunity to refaire sa fortune. He gave out that he would kill any
man who should cast an eye on the heiress, and the monster kept his
word. Major Grigg, of the Lifeguards, had already fallen by his hand at
Ostend. The O'Toole, who had met her on the Rhine, had received a ball
in his shoulder at Coblentz, and did not care to resume so dangerous a
courtship.
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