Page 284 - the-idiot

‘Of course no one knows anything about her but you,’
muttered the young man in a would-be jeering tone.
‘She was a Countess who rose from shame to reign like
a Queen. An Empress wrote to her, with her own hand, as
‘Ma chere cousine.’ At a lever-du-roi one morning (do you
know what a lever-du-roi was?)—a Cardinal, a Papal leg-
ate, offered to put on her stockings; a high and holy person
like that looked on it as an honour! Did you know this? I
see by your expression that you did not! Well, how did she
die? Answer!’
‘Oh! do stop—you are too absurd!’
‘This is how she died. After all this honour and glory,
after having been almost a Queen, she was guillotined by
that butcher, Samson. She was quite innocent, but it had to
be done, for the satisfaction of the fishwives of Paris. She
was so terrified, that she did not understand what was hap-
pening. But when Samson seized her head, and pushed her
under the knife with his foot, she cried out: ‘Wait a moment!
wait a moment, monsieur!’ Well, because of that moment of
bitter suffering, perhaps the Saviour will pardon her other
faults, for one cannot imagine a greater agony. As I read the
story my heart bled for her. And what does it matter to you,
little worm, if I implored the Divine mercy for her, great
sinner as she was, as I said my evening prayer? I might have
done it because I doubted if anyone had ever crossed him-
self for her sake before. It may be that in the other world she
will rejoice to think that a sinner like herself has cried to
heaven for the salvation of her soul. Why are you laughing?
You believe nothing, atheist! And your story was not even