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
"By my faith, Captain, you should have heard the clamor over your
departure. Already famous, and so soon weary of your laurels. Ah! a
tryst," he exclaimed. "Verily you do better than I thought," for he
had picked up a muslin handkerchief, edged with lace, which sought in
vain to hide itself among the leaves. So busied had I been it escaped
my notice. Instinctively I reclaimed the prize and with no gentle hand
I doubt, for his touch and jeering manner desecrated the sacred relic
of my vanished saint.
De Virelle scowled somewhat at my precipitation, but, meeting a no less
determined air, passed the matter by. His ladies affected not to see.
They in their turn plied me with inquiries about the savages in
America, asked all manner of silly questions, and completed with their
foolish simperings the disgust I already felt at such an interruption
to my thought. Yet so great is the force of novelty to women they
clung about me as if I were some strange tame animal brought to Paris
for their divertisement.
"Zounds, Margot dear," de Virelle blurted out aside, for even his dull
senses saw I was not pleased, "our good Moliere must have had this
hermit captain in his mind when he made Alceste to rail so at the
hypocrisies of the world, and urge the telling of truth and looking of
truth at all times."
"How brutally frank! What bad breeding," assented that young woman.
"This captain seems so full of weariness at our coming, and lacks the
grace to veil it decently; let us go."
Finding no hand of mine raised to hinder them, these fair dames and
demoiselles, with many pretty pouts and flutters and flounces, betook
themselves away, followed by their faithful squire.
I began then to feel sorry at having disgraced Jerome's gentle
teachings. The light dying away across the distant fields and streams,
I resigned my solitary communion and set out slowly toward the villa.
The meaning of all the girl had said now forced itself upon my
attention. If this were true, and it seemed plausible enough in view
of all that had transpired here, I was indeed confronted by a new and
serious danger. Happily danger was not a new fellow-traveler; I merely
turned over in my mind the best means to meet it.
Going rather out of my way, I found the grooms without much difficulty,
and telling them we were to leave Sceaux at once, ordered the horses
saddled, and made ready at a side door where I directed them to wait.
My own mind was to tell Jerome nothing of it, but simply to mount the
best horse and ride away alone--if that course became necessary.
* * * * * *
I will break in a bit just here to speak of an incident which occurred
that very night in the modest boudoir of Madame de la Mora. Had I but
known of it at the time, it would have saved me many weary months of
suffering.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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