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
Those reflections which I set down at the end of the last paragraph
drifted me somewhat from the regular thread of my narrative. This,
perhaps, is not the only reason why I should stumble and shy along like
a balky palfrey when I approach one of the trifling accidents which
transpired immediately after our arrival at Sceaux.
Thinking now this matter over, my withered cheeks lose their ashen hue,
and burn again with the hot, tumultuous blood of youth and shame. But
I may as well tell it with all the resolution a man summons before
plunging into an icy bath at midwinter. It came, the unexpected
prelude to one long, sweet song. It was in this wise:
Jerome seemed a welcome guest at Sceaux, and from the hearty greetings,
yet respectful withal, which were accorded him, must have been a man of
more consideration in the world than I had heretofore supposed. Before
this, I received him at his own worth, and our short acquaintance had
been so filled with matters of serious moment, I made no inquiries
beyond the scant stray bits of information he had himself volunteered.
However that might be, his welcome at Sceaux was sincere. Nor did I
wonder at his being a favorite, from the jovial jests and flings he
cast at those who crowded round, which set them all a-laughing. His
familiarity with the doings of the day, and the quick repartee he used
to men of different parties, astonished me greatly.
Having disposed of our horses, and given quiet orders to the groom,
Jerome made me acquainted with his friends. Some part of their
good-fellowship fell to my lot as a friend of Jerome's, and put me upon
my mettle to return it.
As good luck would have it, Jerome's friend, the Chevalier Charles de
la Mora, was then at Sceaux, and came up early on learning of our
arrival.
He was a splendid fellow of thirty-five, stalwart and unusually
graceful for a man of his inches. His frank and cordial manner was his
greatest charm to me, though a woman would doubtless have raved more
over those dark, dreamy eyes, which while mild enough, betimes gave
promise of fire and to spare.
He spoke most affectionately to Jerome, and bade us both be sure his
wife would receive us with sincerest pleasure. Several of the
gentlemen had seen service, and with them I was immediately on easy
terms.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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