Le Baiser De La Mort Essays - Duchess, , Term Papers

Le Baiser De La Mort The Kiss of Death Short syncopated clopping echoed throughout the desolate ally ways that wound through the dark outer limits of Bordeaux, France. An eerie stillness hung in the air, and at the same time, an unsettling anticipation. The lanky coachman lashed out at his team of horses, who already pushed on in an uneasy canter. Rain drizzled lazily from a dreary sky; a grave contrast to the surreal restlessness that consumed the inhabitants of the city. Signs of the great black plague had been sighted in a small village along the Garonne River. So close to Bordeaux. Flat brick walls and dank ally ways flashed by, swirling together into a cold gray nothingness, as glimpsed from inside the jerking stagecoach. Pulling her satin wrap closer about her shoulders, the Duchess of Bordeaux shivered, trying to rid herself of the ominous awareness that had settled thickly around her, as a dense fog that enmeshes itself upon a boggy landscape. The coach came to an abrupt halt, shattering the portentous mindset the duchess had lapsed into. The rain had begun to pound mercilessly upon the marble pavement that led to a vast castle. In moments, the rain condensed into tiny shinning globes, cracking like a thousand claps of thunder as each hit the stone pathway. The Duchess winced as the hailstones lashed at her exposed flesh, hastening to fasten her cloak upon her chin. Her arm raised to protect her eyes from the treacherous frozen rain, she began the trek up the tedious marble stair case to her grand ch?teau; as she climbed, the marble became encased in a thic k layer of frost. Breathless, and her cheeks colored crimson as a blazing flame, the Duchess entered through the heavy oak doors leading into the large vestibule that served as an entrance room into the richly furnished palace of the French royal family. Edgily, she allowed the servants to remove her soaked garments, and at speed withdrew to her private chamber. Wasting no time, the Duchess removed a sturdy piece of parchment from a chest of drawers and obtained a quill and ink. Writing feverishly, she toiled for an hour over the essential dispatch, and sealed it with the official royal seal when she had finished. Summoning for a servant, she gave orders to him such that he was to deliver this letter by way of a lone messanger who would be waiting at the bottom of the castle steps. He was to tell no one and do this as quickly as possible. She would await his return and deliver his payment as soon as the task was completed. Quietly, the Duchess stole into the west corridor that led into the Duke's bedroom chamber, to retrieve his master key. Below, her husband was entertaining the nobles by way of his usual extravagant masquerades. Carrying through the ducts in the high cathedral ceilings, the Duchess listened to the blithe percussion as it thumped rhythmically, accompanied by laughter as clear and carefree as sleigh bells. To be expected, the duke, pompous and self-assured would be perched upon his ruby-laden thrown; his sharp features and protruding chest reminded her of the arrogant peacock; always one to boaster his bright feathers. Her expression darkened. She imagined him adorned in his lavish costume, pretending to be generous and cordial to his guests. He would refill their goblets with his most potent and matured French wines until they were drunk hence he could discuss important matters of business and swindle them out of large sums of gold. She wrung her hands nervously, hoping her husband wo uld make allowances for her at the masquerade long enough for her to receive word about her letter, although she could not evade raising the Duke's own suspicions. She returned to her own chambers to ready herself for the ball. In the course of the evening, the Duchess's messenger galloped with haste to the residence of Matthieu Brousseau; an outspoken political man who was a popular contact of the Duke himself. Once beyond the gates of the palace, the servant was quick to detect the retched smells about. Wagons screeched past the messenger with masses of rotting flesh strewn upon them. The