Pagina 570 di 896

"Ah! most gracious Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, where is that

emigrant? I cry in my sleep where is he? I demand of Heaven, will

he not come to deliver me? No answer. Ah Monsieur heretofore the

Marquis, I send my desolate cry across the sea, hoping it may

perhaps reach your ears through the great bank of Tilson known at

Paris!

"For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour

of your noble name, I supplicate you, Monsieur heretofore the

Marquis, to succour and release me. My fault is, that I have been

true to you. Oh Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, I pray you be

you true to me!

"From this prison here of horror, whence I every hour tend nearer

and nearer to destruction, I send you, Monsieur heretofore the

Marquis, the assurance of my dolorous and unhappy service.

"Your afflicted,

"Gabelle."