Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction; War stories
Brusquely Cosmo stepped out into the outer gallery. Listening to M. de
Montevesso was no pleasure. The Count accompanied him as far as the head
of the great staircase and stayed to watch his descent with a face that
expressed no more than the face of a soldier on parade, till, all at
once, his eyes started to roll about wildly as if looking for some
object he could snatch up and throw down the stairs at Cosmo's head. But
this lasted only for a moment. He reëntered the anteroom quietly and
busied himself in closing and locking the door with care. After doing
this he approached the figure on the bench and stood over it silently.
VII
The old woman pushed back her shawl and raised her wrinkled soft face
without much expression to say:
"The child has been calling for you for the last hour or more."
Helion de Montevesso walked all the length of the anteroom and back
again; then stood over the old woman as before.
"You know what she is," she began directly the Count had stopped. "She
won't give us any rest. When she was little one could always give her a
beating but now there is no doing anything with her. You had better come
and see for yourself."
"Very unruly?" asked the Count de Montevesso.
"She is sixteen," said the old woman crisply, getting up and moving
towards the stairs leading to the upper floor. A stick that had been
lying concealed in the folds of her dress was now in her hand. She
ascended the stairs more nimbly than her appearance would have led one
to expect, and the Count of Montevesso followed her down a long
corridor, where at last the shuffle of her slippers and the tapping of
her stick ceased in front of a closed door. A profound silence reigned
in this remote part of the old palace which the enormous vanity of the
upstart had hired for the entertainment of his wife and his
father-in-law in the face of the restored monarchies of Europe. The old
peasant woman turned to the stiff figure which, holding the candelabra
and in its laced coat, recalled a gorgeous lackey.
"We have put her to bed," she said, "but as to holding her down in it,
that was another matter. Maria is strong but she got weary of it at
last. We had to send for Father Paul. Shameless as she is she would not
attempt to get out of her bed in her nightdress before a priest. The
Father promised to stay till we could fetch you to her, so I came down,
but I dared not go further than the anteroom. A valet told me you had
still a guest with you, so I sent him away and sat down to wait. The
wretch to revenge himself on me put out the lights before he went."
"He shall be flung out to-morrow," said M. de Montevesso in a low tone.
"I hope I have done nothing wrong, Helion."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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