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 chateau; as she climbed, the marble became encased in a thick layer of frost.

The lovers trampled down the staircase and stole out a cellar entrance of the castle. Finally, their love could flourish with out the selfish and arduous persecution of the Duke. They had escaped his depraved grasp, but were about to take part in a much graver predator. They stole out into the night, and crossed the castle grounds stealthily until they reached the stables. There they would stay in secret until the first streak of daylight. When the sun appeared they would flee France.

The timepiece again struck Ten o'clock, postmeridian. The Queen entered the ballroom searching for a crimson masked gentleman clad in an ebony cloak. As she wove her way through the dense crowd, the orchestra stuck up a sad, eerie melody. The long numinous vibrato controlled her, disturbing her and pressing her on in frantic pursuit. She was cast through the moving mass, which swayed with a single heartbeat, a million blank painted faces with shadowed sockets that bore into her, forcing her to sway left, and then right. It was a red mass, an aching puddle of blood. A wave of panic washed over the Duchess. There was not one black cape to be found. Stumbling through the crimson clad crowd, she peered into the faces of a hundred men receiving only cold unfamiliar nods in return. Where was Matthieu? A strong grip abruptly took hold of the duchess's forearm. She was pulled indiscreetly to a dimly lit hallway, where her strange escort unmasked himself. Matthieu's chiseled features were set in a frown. Beckoning that there was not much time, he led the Duchess up a staircase, dragging behind him a heavy burlap sack. At the top of the stairs, they met a frightened looking young servant. Mattieu pressed a silver piece into the palm of the young boy, and the chamber key, leaving instructions to open the sac and plant it in to dukes bed clothes.

News of the plague had spread like wild fire through out the city, although the Duke's concern for the welfare of his people was cold-blooded and unattached. He did however, fear for his own health and issued a proclamation that very morning: no person would be allowed to leave or enter the castle gates until further mention. Another masquerade would be given at the Duke's expense that evening. The ballroom was stripped of last night's black and gold decor and strewn in purple and crimson. The King also issued a command that banned the adornment of the color black from his palace, in respect to those dying on the streets of what had come to

Some common words found in the essay are:
Black Plague, Duchess Bordeaux, Quietly Duchess, Brousseau Duchess', Miseur Brousseau, Matthieu Brousseau's, Matthieu Brousseau, Wasting Duchess, Bordeaux France, Bordeaux Flat, black plague, duchess stole, burlap sack, struck ten, kiss death, heavy burlap, deliver letter, miseur matthieu, matthieu brousseau, heavy burlap sack,
Approximate Word count = 1900
Approximate Pages = 8 (250 words per page double spaced)