This is the letter as Henry wrote it. Lest the reader should not be able to make out this “langue incomparable” as rendered by him, we give the translation which he gave to his admiring fellow-plotters next morning.
Oh reader, I am a prisoner! A wicked man has captured me and taken me away from my country. I am the daughter of one of the lords of France, the Duke de la Chaloupe, in Poitou. An enemy of my father—although he is the best man in the world he has his enemies, nevertheless, but it is because he is a favorite of our mighty emperor, Napoleon the Third—I repeat, an enemy of his, a pitiless scoundrel—a wretch—a DEMON, cast about to hit upon some plot to ruin him.
Seeing that he had no other means of harming my father, this monster resolved to rob him of his daughter. He hatched his plot artfully, and conspired to lay an ambush to entrap me. He bought a steam yacht, a fast sailer, and manned and equipped it. Then he anchored in a little cove, near my father’s castle. Little dreaming of danger, my tutor and I went to see this strange ship, and while we were walking along the shore, the captain invited us to go on board, to examine it. We did so; but we had scarcely got on the main deck when we were seized and shut up in two little cabins! O treacherous man! how easily he got possession of his victim! And I? From that time I have experienced many misfortunes.
His agile knaves sprang to their work; the crew weighed anchor immediately; the engine-driver flew to his engine; the sailors unfurled the sails; soon the yacht was under way; presently she sailed away under full sail. The grated window of my cabin, or prison, looked upon the home of my ancestors, and I saw our retainers running to and fro, with shrill cries of grief and horror. Too late! The villain escapes with his captive! Oh, my dear father and mother! What has become of you!
The yacht had sailed a few hours when a man entered my cabin, followed by my tutor, the good priest. I recognized Bélître Scélérat, the enemy of my father! It was he who had captured me. “Compose yourself,” said he, “I will do you no harm. I am the enemy of your father, the duke, but I am not your enemy. I will treat you well, so long as you do not attempt to escape. The priest will be your tutor the same as before; and you may be as happy here as if you were with your parents.” I implored him to return me, but I implored in vain. The priest, in his turn, reasoned with him, but the monster shrugged his shoulders and was deaf to our entreaties.
After a long voyage we landed in America—at least, I believed it was that country. An accomplice of my captor assisted him to convey the priest and me into the heart of the country, where a prison had been prepared for us. I was captured May fifth, and it is now July tenth. Sixty-six days, therefore, have passed since I saw my parents! I have spent the time in solitude and sadness. The good priest encourages me, but he is the only one on whom I can rely. Ah! I shall go mad if no one comes to help me.
It seems that I am near a railroad, because I often hear the neigh of the iron horse. The prison in which I find myself crowns the top of a low hillock, past which winds a fine stream. As for the prison, it is fortified equal to a fortress; and the priest and I are guarded like wild beasts by the remorseless turnkeys. The neighborhood is solitude itself. For greater misfortune, the place is the resort of ghosts! At home I used to laugh at the idea of ghosts, but I have seen a great number of hideous apparitions, of winged hobgoblins, in this prison.
Bélître Scélérât treats us tolerably, that is to say, he does not threaten us. We do not see him often, as he goes all over the country, to confer with his agents, or else he cruises as a pirate. His jailers, however, take care of us, and they guard us rigorously. I have never gone out of the enclosure, and whenever I go there to breathe the fresh air, the jailers mount guard to watch. Bélître Scélérât says that he will set me free as soon as my papa pays him an enormous ransom, but he adds that he intends to keep me a prisoner a long time, so that my papa shall pay the ransom promptly.
I have written this letter in secret, and I intend to secure it in a bottle. Then I shall try to throw it into the stream, in hopes that some one may find it. Reader, have pity on me! Come and help me, or it is all over with me! I live in hope of being saved. Follow the stream in which you find this letter, and you will arrive at the house which is my prison. If you cannot release me, send my letter to the Duke de la Chaloupe, and he will come with an army to save me. Alas! perhaps my illustrious father is dead!
If the reader is in a position to save me, let him make haste, for Bélître Scélérât will not be at home this week, and the watchmen are more cowardly than brave. Thus my release will come about easily! My poor father will reward whoever saves me, I am sure. Perhaps his majesty the emperor might wish one more general. Should you like to be that honored person? My father, the duke, is a counsellor of his:—a word to the wise is sufficient.