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174 pages

English

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The time of the Great Plague of London might not sound like the most promising setting for a romance, but Canadian author May Agnes Fleming pulls it off with aplomb in the intriguing novel The Midnight Queen. Set in 1665, the story includes a doomed bride, a valiant knight, a mysterious masked fortuneteller -- and a cryptic mystery that binds them all together.

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Romance

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 mai 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776590551
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN
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MAY AGNES FLEMING

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The Midnight Queen First published in 1876 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-055-1 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-056-8 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Sorceress Chapter II - The Dead Bride Chapter III - The Court Page Chapter IV - The Stranger Chapter V - The Dwarf and the Ruin Chapter VI - La Masque Chapter VII - The Earl's Barge Chapter VIII - The Midnight Queen Chapter IX - Leoline Chapter X - The Page, the Fires, and the Fall Chapter XI - The Execution Chapter XII - Doom Chapter XIII - Escaped Chapter XIV - In the Dungeon Chapter XV - Leoline's Visitors Chapter XVI - The Third Vision Chapter XVII - The Hidden Face Chapter XVIII - The Interview Chapter XIX - Hubert's Whisper Chapter XX - At the Plague-Pit Chapter XXI - What was Behind the Mask Chapter XXII - Day-Dawn Chapter XXIII - Finis
Chapter I - The Sorceress
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The plague raged in the city of London. The destroying angel had goneforth, and kindled with its fiery breath the awful pestilence, until allLondon became one mighty lazar-house. Thousands were swept away daily;grass grew in the streets, and the living were scarce able to burythe dead. Business of all kinds was at an end, except that of thecoffin-makers and drivers of the pest-cart. Whole streets were shut up,and almost every other house in the city bore the fatal red cross, andthe ominous inscription, "Lord have mercy on us". Few people, save thewatchmen, armed with halberts, keeping guard over the stricken houses,appeared in the streets; and those who ventured there, shrank from eachother, and passed rapidly on with averted faces. Many even fell dead onthe sidewalk, and lay with their ghastly, discolored faces, upturned tothe mocking sunlight, until the dead-cart came rattling along, andthe drivers hoisted the body with their pitchforks on the top of theirdreadful load. Few other vehicles besides those same dead-carts appearedin the city now; and they plied their trade busily, day and night; andthe cry of the drivers echoed dismally through the deserted streets:"Bring out your dead! bring out your dead!" All who could do so had longago fled from the devoted city; and London lay under the burning heatof the June sunshine, stricken for its sins by the hand of God. Thepest-houses were full, so were the plague-pits, where the dead werehurled in cartfuls; and no one knew who rose up in health in the morningbut that they might be lying stark and dead in a few hours. The verychurches were forsaken; their pastors fled or lying in the plague-pits;and it was even resolved to convert the great cathedral of St. Paul intoa vast plague-hospital. Cries and lamentations echoed from one endof the city to the other, and Death and Charles reigned over Londontogether.
Yet in the midst of all this, many scenes of wild orgies and debaucherystill went on within its gates—as, in our own day, when the choleraravaged Paris, the inhabitants of that facetious city made it acarnival, so now, in London, they were many who, feeling they had but afew days to live at the most, resolved to defy death, and indulge in therevelry while they yet existed. "Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrowyou die!" was their motto; and if in the midst of the frantic dance ordebauched revel one of them dropped dead, the others only shrieked withlaughter, hurled the livid body out to the street, and the demoniacmirth grew twice as fast and furious as before. Robbers and cut-pursesparaded the streets at noonday, entered boldly closed and desertedhouses, and bore off with impunity, whatever they pleased. Highwaymeninfested Hounslow Heath, and all the roads leading from the city,levying a toll on all who passed, and plundering fearlessly the flyingcitizens. In fact, far-famed London town, in the year of grace 1665,would have given one a good idea of Pandemonium broke loose.
It was drawing to the close of an almost tropical June day, that thecrowd who had thronged the precincts of St. Paul's since early morning,began to disperse. The sun, that had throbbed the livelong day like agreat heart of fire in a sea of brass, was sinking from sight in cloudsof crimson, purple and gold, yet Paul's Walk was crowded. There werecourt-gallants in ruffles and plumes; ballad-singers chanting the notover-delicate ditties of the Earl of Rochester; usurers exchanginggold for bonds worth three times what they gave for them; quack-doctorsreading in dolorous tones the bills of mortality of the preceding day,and selling plague-waters and anti-pestilential abominations, whosemerit they loudly extolled; ladies too, richly dressed, and many of themmasked; and booksellers who always made St. Paul's a favorite haunt, andeven to this day patronize its precincts, and flourish in the regions ofPaternoster Row and Ave Maria Lane; court pages in rich liveries, pertand flippant; serving-men out of place, and pickpockets with a keen eyeto business; all clashed and jostled together, raising a din to whichthe Plain of Shinar, with its confusion of tongues and Babylonishworkmen, were as nothing.
Moving serenely through this discordant sea of his fellow-creatures camea young man booted and spurred, whose rich doublet of cherry coloredvelvet, edged and spangled with gold, and jaunty hat set slightly onone side of his head, with its long black plume and diamond clasp,proclaimed him to be somebody. A profusion of snowy shirt-frill rushedimpetuously out of his doublet; a black-velvet cloak, lined withamber-satin, fell picturesquely from his shoulders; a sword with ajeweled hilt clanked on the pavement as he walked. One hand was coveredwith a gauntlet of canary-colored kid, perfumed to a degree that wouldshame any belle of to-day, the other, which rested lightly on hissword-hilt, flashed with a splendid opal, splendidly set. He was ahandsome fellow too, with fair waving hair (for he had the good tasteto discard the ugly wigs then in vogue), dark, bright, handsome eyes,a thick blonde moustache, a tall and remarkably graceful figure, and anexpression of countenance wherein easy good-nature and fiery impetuosityhad a hard struggle for mastery. That he was a courtier of rank, wasapparent from his rich attire and rather aristocratic bearing anda crowd of hangers-on followed him as he went, loudly demandingspur-money. A group of timbril-girls, singing shrilly the songs of theday, called boldly to him as he passed; and one of them, more free andeasy than the rest, danced up to him striking her timbrel, and shoutingrather than singing the chorus of the then popular ditty,
"What care I for pest or plague? We can die but once, God wot, Kiss me darling—stay with me: Love me—love me, leave me not!"
The darling in question turned his bright blue eyes on that dashingstreet-singer with a cool glance of recognition.
"Very sorry, Nell," he said, in a nonchalant tone, "but I'm afraid Imust. How long have you been here, may I ask?"
"A full hour by St. Paul's; and where has Sir Norman Kingsley been, mayI ask? I thought you were dead of the plague."
"Not exactly. Have you seen—ah! there he is. The very man I want."
With which Sir Norman Kingsley dropped a gold piece into the girl'sextended palm, and pushed on through the crowd up Paul's Walk. A tall,dark figure was leaning moodily with folded arms, looking fixedly atthe ground, and taking no notice of the busy scene around him until SirNorman laid his ungloved and jeweled hand lightly on his shoulder.
"Good morning, Ormiston. I had an idea I would find you here, and—butwhat's the matter with you, man? Have you got the plague? or has yourmysterious inamorata jilted you? or what other annoyance has happened tomake you look as woebegone as old King Lear, sent adrift by his tenderdaughters to take care of himself?"
The individual addressed lifted his head, disclosing a dark and ratherhandsome face, settled now into a look of gloomy discontent. He slightlyraised his hat as he saw who his questioner was.
"Ah! it's you, Sir Norman! I had given up all notion of your coming, andwas about to quit this confounded babel—this tumultuous den of thieves.What has detained you?"
"I was on duty at Whitehall. Are we not in time to keep ourappointment?"
"Oh, certainly! La Masque is at home to visitors at all hours, day andnight. I believe in my soul she doesn't know what sleep means."
"And you are still as much in love with her as ever, I dare swear! Ihave no doubt, now, it was of her you were thinking when I came up.Nothing else could ever have made you look so dismally woebegone as youdid, when Providence sent me to your relief."
"I was thinking of her," said the young man moodily, and with adarkening brow.
Sir Norman favored him with a half-amused, half-contemptuous stare for amoment; then stopped at a huckster's stall to purchase some cigarettes;lit one, and after smoking for a few minutes, pleasantly remarked, as ifthe fact had just struck him:
"Ormiston, you're a fool!"
"I know it!" said Ormiston, sententiously.
"The idea," said Sir Norman, knocking the ashes daintily off the endof his cigar with the tip of his little finger—"the idea of falling inlove with a woman whose face you have never seen! I can understand a mana going to any absurd extreme when he falls in love in proper Christianfashion, with a proper Christian face; but to go stark, staring mad, asyou have done, my dear fellow, about a black loo mask, why—I cons