“He wanted to marry his sister to Monsieur Rogron, the receiver-general.”
Two men think of Pierrette daily: Doctor Martener and Major Brigaut; they alone know the hideous truth.
To give that truth its true proportions we must transport the scene to the Rome of the middle ages, where a sublime young girl, Beatrice Cenci, was brought to the scaffold by motives and intrigues that were almost identical with those which laid our Pierrette in her grave. Beatrice Cenci had but one defender,—an artist, a painter. In our day history, and living men, on the faith of Guido Reni’s portrait, condemn the Pope, and know that Beatrice was a most tender victim of infamous passions and base feuds.
We must all agree that legality would be a fine thing for social scoundrelism IF THERE WERE NO GOD.