Share this Rating Title: Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Photos Add Image Add an image Do you have any images for this title? Edit Cast Episode cast overview: Mildred Adler Beaumont Tom Helmore Eric Beaumont Adele Mara Lydia Adler Frank Wilcox Edit Storyline When a concert pianist envisions her own coffin in her drawing room, she doubts her sanity. Add the first question. She had seen and touched many a historic object in her studies, but this one affected her differently.
Could it have belonged to Marie Antoinette?
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Holding her breath, she let the brooch slip from the velvet bag and cradled it in her palm. The curator was right: It was shaped like a cross, one long piece bisected by a shorter piece, each end flaring out into three scallops. Smaller pieces overlapped, ended in points halfway up the longer pieces. An oval band looped under all four ends, connecting them. Delicate carvings covered each piece's gold surface. The gold and topaz glimmered in the fitful fluorescent light.
Rachael reverently traced a fingertip over the design. Around her, the room began to shimmer, fade at the edges.
The woman sat awkwardly in the ornate chair, her swollen belly preventing her from pulling herself close to the small writing table. The room was hot and cloying, the heat from the fireplace making Rachael's face flush.
The scent of flowery potpourri was thick, almost overwhelming. Years of study made Rachael automatically identify the woman's garments as eighteenth-century French court garb. Awed, she realized she recognized the woman from numerous portraits. Even without that, the flowery signature—"Marie Antonia"—gave no question as to the woman's identity. Come and weep with me, come and console your friend. The judgment that has just been pronounced is an atrocious insult.
I am bathed in tears of grief and despair. The woman, her figure now slim, sat very still, holding a small baby on her lap. The brooch clung to the fabric at her throat. Her lips thinned at the memory of why she had needed to be cheered. She forced a smile. Rachael shuddered, and instinctively closed her hand over the ornate pin. Now the woman was gaunt, dressed in plain black, no jewels. She tried to remain regal, but her pale blue eyes revealed her fear as she was led to the guillotine.
Blood red hazed the view. Shaking her head, Rachael pulled herself away from the images, half-reluctant to detach herself from the seductive vision.
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She clutched the gold-and-topaz brooch in her fist, feeling a desperate need to protect it, hide it. Monsieur LaFayette gently pried her fingers apart and replaced the jeweled pin in its case. A pinpoint of blood initialed the spot where the pin's clasp had pricked her skin. She curled her hand into a fist again, hiding the crimson dot that reminded her of the wash of blood that had darkened her vision. A vision that had seemed—felt, smelled, sounded—entirely real. Rachael rubbed the spot at the small of her back that ached interminably. She'd been studying the microfiche of Marie's writings all evening, but had only found the letter Marie had written to Yolande.
At first she'd been startled, almost frightened to find something that confirmed her vision.
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But then she rationalized: Surely in her studies she'd come across the letter before, and simply forgotten until her subconscious regurgitated it. In all the 'fiches, she'd found no mention of the brooch. She'd hallucinated everything, of course. She hadn't eaten much that day; hell, she hadn't eaten much since becoming a starving student in France.
Bread and cheese had become her usual sustenance. There was no way she could have seen Marie Antoinette and those events.
- Torquato Tasso und das hermetische Weltbild (German Edition).
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The thrill of seeing and holding the brooch had sparked an already overactive imagination. She arched her back, purring with pleasure as her vertebrae untwisted. Her mind, however, remained twisted around what happened, and yet couldn't have happened. The images had seemed so real , though; and not just images—all her senses had been violently, acutely involved.
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