One in a Thousand; or, The Days of Henri QuatreJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
One in a Thousand; or, The Days of Henri Quatre
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
France -- History -- Henry IV, 1589-1610 -- Fiction
"Your language is hard," replied the Prior, "and your similes are
indecent towards a minister of the religion you profess to hold; I
shall, therefore, waste no more words upon you, young sir. Your
conduct, however, makes no change in my purposes. The treatment you
receive shall be as gentle and as good as if you were grateful for
kindness, and courteous towards those whom you should respect. You
will one time know me better; and you may be sure, even now, that I
have no purposes to serve by your detention; as you will find by our
intercourse, be it long, be it short, that I shall strive for nothing
but, if possible, to lead you in that course in which your honour,
your happiness, and your best interests, here and hereafter, are alone
to be found."
St. Real made no reply; and the Dominican, bowing his head with an air
of conscious dignity, withdrew from the apartment, and, proceeding
through the doorway by which he had entered, left the young Marquis
and his attendant alone. The sound of turning keys and drawing bolts
succeeded, and St. Real for the first time found himself a prisoner
indeed. Now "The soul, secure in its existence, may smile at the drawn
dagger, and defy its point;" yet there are many things which may
happen to the body, that defy the soul to preserve her equanimity,
although they be much less evils, in comparison, than that
irretrievable separation of matter and spirit, which we are accustomed
to look upon with more indifference. For a moment or two, St. Real
lost his calmness, and, striding up and down the room with his arms
folded on his breast, gave way to that bitterness of spirit, which
every noble heart must feel on the loss of the great, the
incomparable, the inestimable blessing of liberty. His more
philosophical attendant, who had been selected in haste from among the
rest of his followers, without any great attention to his mental
qualities, consoled himself, under the privation which so painfully
affected his master, by examining every hole and corner in the
apartments to which they were consigned; and comforted himself not a
little, under all their woes and disasters, by the sight of soft and
downy beds, rich arras, and velvet hangings. Before his perquisitions
were well complete, however, and just as his master was reasoning
himself into calmer endurance of an event he could not avoid, the door
once more opened, and admitted a brother of the order, on whose
appearance and demeanour we must pause for a moment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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