“Write me at the old address and believe me to be yours most faithfully
E. de V.
The 16th of September, 1905.”
During Irene’s reading the others maintained an intense silence. Even when she had ended, the silence continued for a time, while all considered with various feelings the remarkable statement they had just heard.
It was O’Gorman who first spoke.
“If you will assert, Mr. Hathaway, that the ambassador’s statement is correct, to the best of your knowledge and belief, I have the authority of our department to promise that the charge against you will promptly be dropped and withdrawn and that you will be adjudged innocent of any offense against the law. It is true that you assisted a guilty person to escape punishment, and are therefore liable for what is called ‘misprision of treason,’ but we shall not press that, for, as I said before, we prefer, since no real harm has resulted, to allow the case to be filed without further publicity. Do you admit the truth of the statements contained in this letter?”
“I believe them to be true,” said Mr. Hathaway, in a low voice. Mary Louise was nestling close in his arms and now she raised her head tenderly to kiss his cheek. She was not sobbing; she did not even appear to be humbled or heart-broken. Perhaps she did not realize at the moment how gravely her father and mother had sinned against the laws of their country. That realization might come to her later, but just now she was happy in the vindication of Gran’pa Jim—a triumph that overshadowed all else.
“I’ll take this letter for our files,” said Officer O’Gorman, folding it carefully before placing it in his pocketbook. “And now, sir, I hope you will permit me to congratulate you and to wish you many years of happiness with your granddaughter, who first won my admiration by her steadfast faith in your innocence. She’s a good girl, is Mary Louise, and almost as clever as my Josie here. Come, Nan; come, Agatha; let’s go back to Bigbee’s. Our business here is finished.”
MADEMOISELLE DE SCUDÉRI, by E.T.A. Hoffmann
First published in 1819.
A Tale of the Times of Louis the Fourteenth
Magdaleine de Scudéri, so famous for her charming poetical and other writings, lived in a small mansion in the Rue St. Honoré, by favour of Louis the XIVth and Madame de Maintenon.
Late one night—about midnight—in the autumn of the year 1680, there came a knocking at the door of this house, so loud and violent that it shook the very ground. Baptiste, who filled the offices of cook, butler and doorkeeper in the lady’s modest establishment, had gone, by her leave, to the country to his sister’s wedding, so that La Martinière, the femme de chambre, was the only person still awake in the house. She heard this knocking, which went on without ceasing almost, and she remembered that, as Baptiste was away, she and her mistress were alone and unprotected. She thought of the housebreakings, robberies and murders which were so frequent in Paris at that time, and felt convinced that some of the numerous bands of malefactors, knowing the defenceless state of the house that night, were raising this alarm at the door, and would commit some outrage if it were opened; so she remained in her room, trembling and terrified, anathematising Baptiste, and his sister’s marriage into the bargain.
Meantime the thundering knocking went on at the door, and she thought she heard a voice calling in the intervals, “Open, for the love of Christ Open!—open!” At last, her alarm increasing, she took her candle and ran out on to the landing, where she distinctly heard the voice crying, “Open the door, for the love of Christ!”
“After all,” she said to herself, “one knows that a robber would not be crying out in that way. Perhaps it is somebody who is being pursued and is come to my lady for refuge. She is known to be always ready to do a kind action—but we must be very careful!”