Richelieu: A Tale of France, v. 1/3James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
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Richelieu: A Tale of France, v. 1/3
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Richelieu, Armand Jean du Plessis, duc de, 1585-1642 -- Fiction
"Short-sighted mole!" replied his companion. "The very sulkiness of
humour which has called down on him thy rage, will shield him from my
fears--which might be quite as dangerous. He that is so close in one
thing, depend upon it, will be close in another. Besides, unless he
tells it to the trees, or the jays, or the wild boars, whom should he
tell it to? I would bet a thousand crowns against the Prince de Conti's
brains, or the Archbishop Coadjutor's religion, or Madame de
Chevreuse's--reputation, or against any thing else that is worth
nothing, that this good Woodman sees no human shape for the next ten
years, and then all that passes between them will be, "Good day,
Woodman!'--'Good day, Sir!'--and he mimicked the deep voice of him of
whom they spoke. But, notwithstanding this appearance of gaiety,
Chavigni was not easy; and even while he spoke, he rode on with no small
precipitation, till, turning into a narrow forest path, the light of the
moon, which had illuminated the greater part of the high road, was cut
off entirely by the trees, and the deep gloom obliged them to be more
cautious in proceeding. At length, however, they came to a little
savanna, surrounded by high oaks, where Chavigni entirely reined in his
horse, and blew a single note on his horn, which was soon answered by a
similar sound at some distance.
CHAPTER III.
Which shows what a French forest was at night, and who inhabited
it.
Those whom either the love of sylvan sports, or that calm meditative
charm inherent to wood scenery, has tempted to explore the deeper
recesses of the forest, must be well aware that many particular glades
and coverts will often lie secret and undiscovered, amidst the mazes of
the leafy labyrinth, even to the eyes of those long accustomed to
investigate its most intricate windings. In those countries where forest
hunting is a frequent sport, I have more than once found myself led on
into scenes completely new, when I had fancied that long experience had
made me fully acquainted with every rood of the woodland round about,
and have often met with no small trouble in retracing the spot, although
I took all pains to observe the way thither, and fix its distinctive
marks in my memory.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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