France -- History -- Henry IV, 1589-1610 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
The Abbess pondered, while the Duke, reclining in the opening of his
hut, from which the screen had been drawn back that he might enjoy the
air, had no more accurate notion of her thoughts than had the
Lieutenant's dog sleeping a few paces away. The missal had fallen from
her hands and lay in her lap. Her eyes fixed on the green slope before
her betrayed naught that was not dove-like; while the profound
stillness of her form which permitted the Duke to gaze at will
breathed only the peace of the cloister and the altar, the peace that
no change of outward things can long disturb. Or so the Duke fancied;
and eyeing her with secret rapture, felt himself uplifted in her
presence. He felt that here was a being congenial with his better
self, and a beauty as far above the beauty to which he had been a
slave all his life as his higher moods rose above his worst excesses.
He had gained strength in the three days which had elapsed since his
arrival in the camp. He could now sit up for a short time and even
stand, though giddily and with precaution. Nor were these the only
changes which the short interval had produced. The Countess's spears,
to the number of thirty, were here, and their presence augmented the
safety of the Vicomte's party. But indirectly, in so far as it fed the
peasants' suspicions, it had a contrary effect. The Crocans submitted
indeed to be drilled, sometimes by the Bat, sometimes by his master;
and reasonable orders were not openly disobeyed. But the fear of
treachery which a life-time of ill-usage had instilled was deepened by
the presence of the Countess's men. The slightest movements on des
Ageaux' part were scanned with jealousy. If he conferred too long with
the Villeneuves or the Countess men exchanged black looks, or muttered
in their beards. If he strayed a hundred paces down the valley a score
were at his heels. Nor were there wanting those who, moving secretly
between the camp and the savage horde upon the hill--the Old Crocans,
as they were called--kept these apprised of their doubts and fears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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