Les beaux messieurs de Bois-Doré Vol. 2 (of 2)Sand, George
History
Les beaux messieurs de Bois-Doré Vol. 2 (of 2)
Sand, George
France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction
Bois-Doré walked for a long while, hardly able to see where he was
going. He had closed his lantern, which was unprovided with glass or
horn, but had a half cylinder of iron with three holes in it, according
to the custom of the province. He did not venture to open it until he
had reached the end of that vast apartment and had satisfied himself
that he was in an absolutely silent and deserted spot.
Then he placed his light on the floor in front of him and stepped back
to an enormous fire-place which was near at hand.
Standing there, he was able to accustom his eyes little by little to so
faint a light in so vast a space, and to make out that he was in a hall
which extended the whole length of the château.
He examined the fire-place by which he was standing. Like everything
else it was of white stone, and the square bases, projecting from the
massive columns, seemed as fresh and new as if they had been hewn the
day before; the double fillets of the mantel were neither marred nor
chipped, and the same was true of the escutcheon, without coat-of-arms,
which crowned the mantel. Even the smoke-flue, and the fire-place
itself, which was not sheathed with iron, bore no traces of fire, smoke
or ashes. The unfinished building had never been used, that was evident.
No one had ever occupied, no one now occupied that bare, cheerless hall.
Having satisfied himself of that fact, the marquis made bold to go to
ascertain why a barrier of boards, waist-high, extended diagonally
across that immense room at a point halfway between the two ends. Upon
reaching that point, he found himself looking into space. The floor had
fallen or been cut away, as had that of the lower stories, in quite half
of the building, perhaps to facilitate the storing of the crops.
The eye plunged into the darkness of an expanse that seemed as large as
the interior of a cathedral.
Bois-Doré had been there for some moments, trying to form a just idea
of his surroundings, when, from the depths which his eyes questioned in
vain, a sort of groan rose to his ears.
He started, closed his lantern, and concealed it behind the boards, held
his breath and listened intently, for his hearing was a little dull and
might deceive him as to the nature of the sounds.
Was it a door or a shutter closed by the wind?
He had not waited three minutes when the same groan was repeated, even
more distinct, and at the same time it seemed to him that a faint ray of
light, very far below him, illumined those depths, which, viewed from
his position, were literally an abyss.
He knelt to avoid being seen, and looked between the boards which served
him as a balustrade.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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