The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIV — John Shaqi
The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIVDickson, Harris
History
The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIV
Dickson, Harris
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
We had now come into a fairly wide, well-lighted hall, and an
obsequious attendant showed us up a stair, and opening a door, pointed
out the place she asked for. Imagine my utter astonishment when we
stood together within the gaming room at Bertrand's. What an infernal
fool I had been to be tempted back into this very place of all others.
I thought at once it was some cowardly trick of Yvard's. I seized the
woman by the arm, for I supposed her then but another decoy; there was
no telling how far this Spanish intrigue had gone or what high
personages Madame du Maine might be able to enlist in furtherance of
her schemes. I seized her firmly, and had taken one step back towards
the door again, when her cold ringing voice undeceived me.
"What means my lord; I thought him a gentleman. Shall I appeal for
protection to these low men here?"
There was such a truth in her low tones that I cast her free, and in
some measure explained my thought.
"Well, well, we'll not quarrel here," and looking about her with eager
curiosity, she chose a table where fewest players sat, and thitherwards
we went. This table was placed rather apart from the others, against a
pillar, and no gamesters sat on the side next the wall. It left but
scant space to sit between. There we took our places, and the lady
tumbled out a purse well filled with gold pieces, handed some to me and
bade me play. She laid her wagers, and won with the glee of a child,
her face alternate flushed and pale. I could see I wronged her by
supposing her in league with the place. She played in too feverish
earnest.
During this while I had observed the same two men who had met me on the
stair the previous night. They were walking about and carelessly
looking on at the different games. Yet for all their nonchalance there
was a well-defined method in their procedure, that attracted my
attention. The taller man scanned every person in the hall, and when
the lady and I came in he watched us intently.
His companion--the same as on the previous night--withdrew to talk.
After some consultation they reached a decision. Together they came
our way, and the tall man clapped his hand twice.
At the signal, for such it was, from every table rose a man or two, and
ranged themselves about him who called. I could also see a guard
suddenly stationed, as if by magic, at each point of exit. Where, here
and there, a cloak was thrown back, the gleam of a uniform showed
beneath.
"There, my lads, is our quarry; take them," commanded the tall man,
pointing to us.
I cursed myself for a silly fool to run again into such danger.
The dispatches in my bosom would hang me, and I dared not explain my
possession of them. It was plain, too, that the King's officers, as
well as Serigny, had their suspicions of the place. It was too late
now for penitence, it was time to act.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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