Count Hannibal: A Romance of the Court of FranceWeyman, Stanley John
General
Count Hannibal: A Romance of the Court of France
Weyman, Stanley John
Courts and courtiers -- Fiction; Huguenots -- Fiction
The two who talked, rode at the rear of the little company which had left
Paris at daybreak two days before, by the Porte St. Jacques. Moving
steadily south-westward by the lesser roads and bridle-tracks--for Count
Hannibal seemed averse from the great road--they had lain the second
night in a village three leagues from Bonneval. A journey of two days on
fresh horses is apt to change scenery and eye alike; but seldom has an
alteration--in themselves and all about them--as great as that which
blessed this little company, been wrought in so short a time. From the
stifling wynds and evil-smelling lanes of Paris, they had passed to the
green uplands, the breezy woods and babbling streams of the upper
Orleannais; from sights and sounds the most appalling, to the solitude of
the sandy heath, haunt of the great bustard, or the sunshine of the
hillside, vibrating with the songs of larks; from an atmosphere of terror
and gloom to the freedom of God's earth and sky. Numerous enough--they
numbered a score of armed men--to defy the lawless bands which had their
lairs in the huge forest of Orleans, they halted where they pleased: at
mid-day under a grove of chestnut-trees, or among the willows beside a
brook; at night, if they willed it, under God's heaven. Far, not only
from Paris, but from the great road, with its gibbets and pillories--the
great road which at that date ran through a waste, no peasant living
willingly within sight of it--they rode in the morning and in the
evening, resting in the heat of the day. And though they had left Paris
with much talk of haste, they rode more at leisure with every league.
For whatever Tavannes' motive, it was plain that he was in no hurry to
reach his destination. Nor for that matter were any of his company.
Madame St. Lo, who had seized the opportunity of escaping from the
capital under her cousin's escort, was in an ill-humour with cities, and
declaimed much on the joys of a cell in the woods. For the time the
coarsest nature and the dullest rider had had enough of alarums and
conflicts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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