Corse de Leon; or, The Brigand: A Romance. Volume 1 (of 2)James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
Corse de Leon; or, The Brigand: A Romance. Volume 1 (of 2)
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
France -- History -- Henry II, 1547-1559 -- Fiction
The priest with whom she had just spoken, however, had not only borne a
willing, but an active part in uniting her to Bernard de Rohan. For that
reason she believed that she might trust him; but, besides this, he had
referred to former years; and though there was a long lapse of time
between, spreading a dimness like a light sea-mist between herself and
the objects of those days, yet there were vague and pleasant
recollections which attached themselves by the fine links of association
to the tones of the old man's voice, to his manner, even to the rough
and somewhat reckless jests which he mingled with his discourse. She
remembered such a person a frequent guest in her father's house; she
remembered that father's often-repeated commendations of his honesty of
purpose, of his sincerity of heart, of his zeal and disinterestedness;
and whether it was that she herself strove to find some excuse for
anything that seemed harsh or irreverent in his manner, or that her
father had really pronounced such words, she thought that she remembered
his having said that Father Willand's abhorrence of hypocrisy had driven
him into an opposite extreme. It is true that she could not have
recalled his features sufficiently to recognise him under any other
circumstances; but, when once told who he was, they seemed to grow more
and more familiar to her, and she determined to trust him, let the
result of the trial which he had suggested for the Count de Meyrand be
what it would.
CHAPTER XII.
In one of the sweetest situations that it is possible to conceive--with
green sloping hills, covered with the richest vegetation, rising on the
four sides thereof, and forming, as it were, a beautiful basin, with
four long valleys, each of which bears onward its stream of clear and
sparkling water--is the little town of Bourgoin, which was at that time,
as now, neat, clean, and fresh-looking, with perhaps fewer inhabitants
than it can at present boast, but without any of the manufactories which
have since somewhat diminished its beauty, if they have increased its
wealth.
It was the custom in those days for the signs to hang out far from the
doors of the inn; and often at each side of the doorway was placed the
name of the landlord, with a long recommendation of the fare and lodging
to be found within, with the price of the various meals which were to be
furnished to a visiter. A bench was there also, and a wide door, giving
entrance to a courtyard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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