Wonder Tales by Marina Warner

Author:Marina Warner [Warner, Marina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448103171
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2012-02-29T00:00:00+00:00

The Counterfeit Marquise

Translated by Ranjit Bolt

CHARLES PERRAULT & FRANÇOIS-TIMOLÉON DE CHOISY (Attributed)

NOWADAYS IT IS the fashion for women to display their wit in print and I have no wish to be behind the times. Far be it from me, however, to compete with literary giants. We women all have our little mannerisms. Femininity betrays itself beneath the stiffest of styles. However extravagant the feeling or sublime the thought, the attentive reader is sure to detect a certain softness, a characteristic frailty, which we are born with and lapse into repeatedly. Too much is not to be expected of us. A pretty girl, raised among frills and furbelows, should not be asked to write like M. Pellisson.10 The most she has to offer is youthful fervour, fresh turns of phrase, lively expressions and a fertile fancy. In short, aiming only to amuse herself and her companions with her stories, she leaves exactness, substance and coherence to M. de T., and is content to write better than M. d’A.

Here, then, is my own attempt. Judge for yourselves, ladies (since I address myself to you) but do not read it unless you are over twenty. No – at twenty a girl must look for something more substantial. She should be thinking about being a good house-wife. She is too old for trifles. Moreover, do not begin to doubt what I am going to tell you. I saw it all, heard it all, knew it all; I witnessed these events myself; no circumstance escaped my notice. Certain details may strike you as bizarre. That is precisely why I decided to put them down on paper. I have never thought much of authors who confine themselves to mundane subjects. Well-trodden roads were made for little talents, and if one takes the trouble to write one should choose a subject that stands up on its own, and which engages the reader from the outset, without affectation, eloquence or embellishment. But on with the dance.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She

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