A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de MarsacWeyman, Stanley John
History
A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac
Weyman, Stanley John
France -- History -- Henry III, 1574-1589 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Thankful that we had escaped contagion, we nevertheless still proposed
to observe for a time such precautions in regard to the others as seemed
necessary; riding in the rear and having no communication with them,
though they showed by signs the pleasure they felt at seeing us. From
the frequency with which mademoiselle turned and looked behind her,
I judged she had overcome her pique at my strange conduct; which the
others should by this time have explained to her. Content, therefore,
with the present, and full of confidence in the future, I rode along in
a rare state of satisfaction; at one moment planning what I would do,
and at another reviewing what I had done.
The brightness and softness of the day, and the beauty of the woods,
which in some places, I remember, were bursting into leaf, contributed
much to establish me in this frame of mind. The hateful mist, which
had so greatly depressed us, had disappeared; leaving the face of the
country visible in all the brilliance of early spring. The men who rode
before us, cheered by the happy omen, laughed and talked as they rode,
or tried the paces of their horses, where the trees grew sparsely; and
their jests and laughter coming pleasantly to our ears as we followed,
warmed even madame’s sad face to a semblance of happiness.
I was riding along in this state of contentment when a feeling of
fatigue, which the distance we had come did not seem to justify, led me
to spur the Cid into a brisker pace. The sensation of lassitude still
continued, however, and indeed grew worse; so that I wondered idly
whether I had over-eaten myself at my last meal. Then the thing passed
for awhile from my mind, which the descent of a steep hill sufficiently
occupied.
But a few minutes later, happening to turn in the saddle, I experienced
a strange and sudden dizziness; so excessive as to force me to grasp the
cantle, and cling to it, while trees and hills appeared to dance round
me. A quick, hot pain in the side followed, almost before I recovered
the power of thought; and this increased so rapidly, and was from the
first so definite, that, with a dreadful apprehension already formed
in my mind, I thrust my hand inside my clothes, and found that swelling
which is the most sure and deadly symptom of the plague.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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