Madame Deshoulieres, the French poetess, was much admired by her countrymen ; yet, except her pastorals, the subjects chosen by her have little interest, ana rather evince strength of mind than harmony of verse or delicacy of feeling. Indeed, they are what might have been expected from a character endued with the self-possession displayed in the following adventure, in which she conducted herself with an intrepidity and coolness which would have done honour to a hero.
Madame Deshoulieres was invited by the Count and Countess de Larneville to pass some time at their chateau, several leagues from Paris. On her arrival, she was freely offered the choice of all the bed-chambers in the mansion except one, which, from the strange noises that had been for some time nocturnally heard within it, was generally believed to be haunted, and as such had been deserted. Madame Deshoulieres was no sooner informed of this circumstance by her friends, than, to their great surprise and terror, she immediately declared her resolution of occupying this dreaded room in preference to any other. The Count looked aghast as she disclosed this determination, and in a tremulous voice entreated her to give up so rash an intention ; since, however brave curiosity might at present make her, it was more than probable that in her situation she would pay for its gratification with her life. The Countess, observing that all that her husband said failed of intimidating the high-spirited Madame Deshoulieres, now added her persuasions to divert her friend from an enterprise from which the bravest man might shrink appalled. "What have we not to fear, then," she added, " for a woman on the eve of becoming a mother? Let me conjure you, if not for your own sake, for that of your unborn infant, give up your daring plan." All these arguments, repeated over and over again, were insufficient to shake the determined purpose of the adventurer. Her courage rose superior to these representations of the dangers to which she was going to expose herself, because she was convinced that they owed their colouring to superstition acting upon weak minds: she entertained no faith in the "fleshless arm" of a departed spirit, and from an immaterial one her life was safe.
Her noble host and hostess pleaded, pitied, blamed, but at length yielded to her wish of taking possession of the haunted chamber. Madame Deshoulieres found it grand and spacious—the windows dark from the thickness of the walls—the chimney antique and of a cavernous depth. As soon as madame was undressed, she stepped into bed, ordered a large candle to be placed on a stand near it, and enjoining herfemme de chambre to shut the door securely, dismissed her. Having provided herself with a book, according to custom, she calmly read her usual time, then sunk to repose ; from this she was soon roused by a noise at the door—it opened, and the sound of footsteps succeeded. Madame Deshoulieres immediately decided that this must be the supposed ghost, and therefore addressed it with an assurance that, if it hoped to frighten her from her purpose of detecting the imposture which had created such foolish alarm throughout the castle, it would find itself disappointed in the attempt; for she was resolutely bent on discovering and exposing it at all hazards. This threat she reiterated to no purpose, for no answer was returned. At length the intruder came in contact with a large screen, which it overturned so near the bed, that, getting entangled in the curtains, which played loosely on their rings, they returned a sound so sharp, that any one under the influence of fear would have taken it for the shrill scream of an unquiet spirit, but madame was perfectly undismayed, as she afterwards declared. On the contrary, she continued to interrogate the nocturnal visitor, whom she suspected to be one of the domestics; but it still maintained an unbroken silence, though nothing could be less quiet in its movements, for it now ran against the stand on which was placed the heavy candlestick, which fell with a thundering noise. In fine, tired of all these exertions, it came and rested itself against the foot of the bed. Madame Deshoulieres was now more decidedly called upon to evince all that firmness of mind and intrepidity of spirit of which she had boasted ; and well did she justify the confidence she had placed in her own courage, for, still retaining her self-possession, she exclaimed, "Ah! now I shall ascertain what thou art;" at the same time she extended both her hands towards the place against which she felt that the intruder was resting. They came in contact with two soft velvety ears, which she firmly grasped, determined to retain them till day should lend its light to discover to whom or to what they belonged. Madame found her patience put to some trial, but not her strength, for nothing could be more unresisting and quiet than the owner of the imprisoned ears. Day at length released her from the awkward, painftr position, in which she had remained for so many hours and discovered her prisoner to be Gros-Blanc, a large dog belonging to the chateau, and as worthy, if fidelity and honesty deserve the title, as any of its inhabitants. Far from resenting the bondage in which Madame Deshoulieres had so long kept him, he licked the hands which he believed had been kindly keeping his ears warm all night; while Madame Deshoulieres enjoyed a hearty laugh at this ludicrous end to an adventure, for the encounter of which she had braced her every nerve.
In the mean time, the Count and Countess, wholly given up to their fears, had found it impossible to close their eyes during the night. The trial to which their friend had exposed herself grew more terrible to their imagination the more they dwelt upon it, till they at length persuaded themselves that death would be the inevitable consequence. With these forebodings they proceeded as soon as it was light to the apartment of Madame Deshoulieres—scarcely had they courage to enter it, or to speak when they had done so. From this state of petrifaction they were revived by their friend undrawing her curtains, and paying them the compliments of the morning with a triumphant look. She then related all that had passed with an impressive solemnity, and having roused intense curiosity to know the catastrophe, she smilingly pointed to Gros-Blanc, as she said to the Count, " There is the nocturnal visitor whom you have so long taken for the ghost of your mother;" for such he had concluded it, from having been the last person who had died in the chateau. The Count looked at his wife— then at the dog—and blushed deeply, not knowing whether it were better to laugh or be angry. But Madame, who possessed a commanding manner, which at the same time awed and convinced, ended this state of irresolution by saying—"No, no, Monsieur, you shall no longer continue in an illusion which long indulgence has endeared you to. I will complete my task, and emancipate your mind from the shackles of superstition, by proving to you that all which has so Jong disturbed the peace of your family has arisen from natural causes." Madame arose, made her friends examine the lock of the door, the wood of which was so decayed as to render the locking it useless against a very moderate degree of strength. This facility of entrance had been evidently the cause of Gros-Blanc, who liked not sleeping out of doors, making choice of this room. "The rest is easily accounted for: Gros-Blanc smelt, and wished to possess himself of the candle, in attempting which he committed all the blunders, and caused all the noises, which have annoyed me this night; and he would have taken possession of my bed, also, if he had not given me an opportunity of seizing his ears. Thus are the most simple events magnified into omens of fearful and supernatural augury."
