Prince Eugene | Page 8

behind her, darted
up a narrow staircase, and, hastily drawing a key from a pocket
concealed within the folds of her dress, she unlocked the door of a
room whose aspect was anything but appropriate to the pursuits of a
lady of quality.
It was to all appearances a kitchen, for one entire side of it was
occupied by a hearth full of recesses, each one of which contained a
furnace fitted up with iron utensils for cooking. On the mantel, which
corresponded to this immense hearth, were ranged pipkins and other
vessels of different sizes, interspersed with rows of phials and flasks
containing liquids of every imaginable color. On a massive oaken table,
in the centre of the apartment, were placed a number of bowls and
dishes, and near them lay a disorderly pile of papers, books, and
pamphlets.
Olympia approached the hearth, stooped over one of the furnaces, and
from a fagot lying near gathered a few small sticks. Over these sticks
she poured a fluid from one of her flasks, and then rubbing them
briskly together, they began to emit sparks. She placed them under the
furnace, added a little more fuel, and in a few moments had a good fire.
She now sprang to her feet, and hastily pushing aside a row of pipkins,
opened a small door which had been concealed behind them, above the
mantel. From a recess within the wall she took a brass- bound casket,
which she placed upon the table.
The casket contained some books, papers, and several diminutive

phials. One of these phials she held up to the light, contemplating its
contents with manifest satisfaction.
"Herein lies the spell that is to lure my faithless monarch back again.
La Voisin may rot in prison, but her mantle of science has fallen upon
me, and her secrets are mine. Her last, best gift shall restore me to my
throne. Not only did she leave me the means of success, but she
foretold the certainty of that success besides. It must be so: La Voisin
never erred in her predictions, and I shall triumph!"
Pressing the phial to her lips, Olympia hid it beneath the folds of her
lace tucker, murmuring the while, "I shall sip of this nectar anon; for
the present, I must provide for discovery."
She took the papers that lay in the casket, and weighing them in her
hand said musingly:
"How light they are, and yet how heavy was the gold with which I
purchased them! 'Tis a pity they should be destroyed: what if I should
forget? But no! oblivion of their treasured secrets were impossible to
me; so away with you! You might turn traitors, and I had best
anticipate treachery by destruction."
Then followed the books and the contents of the phials remaining in the
casket. The blue flames leaped high as these last were added to the
cremation, and the room became oppressive with their unwholesome
vapor.
"The window must be opened," said Olympia. "This odor might betray
me. People might suspect me of having cooked arsenic in my kitchen
instead of onions."
With, these words she opened the casement, and the noxious cloud
passed slowly out into the air.
"Now all is safe. Louvois can send as many bailiffs as he lists, and
should they poke their inquisitive noses into my sanctum, they will find
nothing for their pains but an innocent laboratory wherein the Countess

de Soissons prepares her cosmetics, and makes experiments in the
chemistry of the toilet."
She replaced her casket, searched the mantel carefully, and then
glanced sharply around the room to assure herself that she was alone
and undiscovered.
Yes! Alone, the witnesses of her guilt consumed, and their ashes
etherealized throughout space.
The countess smiled, and, as she locked the door of her laboratory, her
spirits revived and her thoughts once more reverted to the ambitious
dreams of the morning. When she had reached her boudoir again, and
the complaisant mirror had resumed its place, she drew the flask from
her bosom, removed the glass stopper, inhaled for a moment its
perfume, and then, raising it to her lips, drained the contents to their
last drop.
"And this philter is to make me mistress of your heart, King Louis!
How I long to begin my reign!"
A slight rustling was heard outside, and the guilty woman trembled
anew. She concealed the phial, and listened breathlessly, while her
straining eyes were fixed upon the door as though they had hoped to
see through its panels of oak whether friend or foe stood without.
A slight knock was heard, and now, in spite of herself, the Countess de
Soissons grew pale and shivered. What if the myrmidons of Louvois
had come with a lettre de cachet! What if--No! not even