France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction
Before the astonished Leander had time to answer, the page had
disappeared in the crowd, leaving him in great perplexity, for if his
heart beat high with joy at the idea of a romantic adventure, his
shoulders still reminded him painfully of the beating he had received
in a certain park at dead of night, and he remembered with a groan how
he had been lured on to his own undoing. Was this another snare spread
for him by some envious wretch who begrudged him his brilliant success
that evening, and was jealous of the marked favour he had found in the
eyes of the fair ladies of Poitiers? Should he encounter some furious
husband at the rendezvous, sword in hand, ready to fall upon him and
run him through the body? These thoughts chilled his ardour, and had
nearly caused him to disregard entirely the page’s mysterious message.
Yet, if he did not profit by this tempting opportunity, which looked so
promising, he might make a terrible mistake; and, if he failed to go,
would not the lady of the mask suspect him of cowardice, and be
justified in so doing? This thought was insupportable to the gallant
Leander, and he decided to venture, though low be it spoken—in fear and
trembling. He hastened back to the hotel, scarcely touched the
substantial supper provided for the comedians—his appetite lost in his
intense excitement—and retiring to his own chamber made an elaborate
toilet; curling and perfuming his hair and mustache, and sparing no
pains to make himself acceptable to the lovely lady of the mask. He
armed himself with a dagger and a sword, though he did not know how to
use either; but he thought that the mere sight of them might inspire
awe.
When he was all ready at last, he drew his broad felt hat well down
over his eyes, threw the corner of his cloak over his shoulder, in
Spanish fashion, so as to conceal the lower part of his face, and crept
stealthily out of the hotel—for once being lucky enough to escape the
observation of his wily tormentor, Scapin, who was at that moment
snoring his loudest in his own room at the other end of the house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account