“The next day,” says Madame de Sevigne, “people were looking for the charred bones of Madame de Brinvilliers, because they said she was a saint.”

In 1814, M. d’Offemont, father of the present occupier of the castle where the Marquise de Brinvilliers poisoned her father, frightened at the approach of all the allied troops, contrived in one of the towers several hiding-places, where he shut up his silver and such other valuables as were to be found in this lonely country in the midst of the forest of Laigue.  The foreign troops were passing backwards and forwards at Offemont, and after a three months’ occupation retired to the farther side of the frontier.

Then the owners ventured to take out the various things that had been hidden; and tapping the walls, to make sure nothing had been overlooked, they detected a hollow sound that indicated the presence of some unsuspected cavity.  With picks and bars they broke the wall open, and when several stones had come out they found a large closet like a laboratory, containing furnaces, chemical instruments, phials hermetically sealed full of an unknown liquid, and four packets of powders of different colours.  Unluckily, the people who made these discoveries thought them of too much or too little importance; and instead of submitting the ingredients to the tests of modern science, they made away with them all, frightened at their probably deadly nature.

Thus was lost this great opportunity—­probably the last—­for finding and analysing the substances which composed the poisons of Sainte-Croix and Madame de Brinvilliers.

VANINKA

About the end of the reign of the Emperor Paul I—­that is to say, towards the middle of the first year of the nineteenth century—­just as four o’clock in the afternoon was sounding from the church of St. Peter and St. Paul, whose gilded vane overlooks the ramparts of the fortress, a crowd, composed of all sorts and conditions of people, began to gather in front of a house which belonged to General Count Tchermayloff, formerly military governor of a fair-sized town in the government of Pultava.  The first spectators had been attracted by the preparations which they saw had been made in the middle of the courtyard for administering torture with the knout.  One of the general’s serfs, he who acted as barber, was to be the victim.

Although this kind of punishment was a common enough sight in St. Petersburg, it nevertheless attracted all passers-by when it was publicly administered.  This was the occurrence which had caused a crowd, as just mentioned, before General Tchermayloff’s house.

The spectators, even had they been in a hurry, would have had no cause to complain of being kept waiting, for at half-past four a young man of about five-and-twenty, in the handsome uniform of an aide-de-camp, his breast covered with decorations, appeared on the steps at the farther end of the court-yard in front of the house.  These steps faced the large gateway, and led to the general’s apartments.