The House of the Wolf: A RomanceWeyman, Stanley John
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The House of the Wolf: A Romance
Weyman, Stanley John
Saint Bartholomew's Day, Massacre of, France, 1572 -- Fiction
I could only vindicate my daring by greater daring, and I saw this even
as, death staring me in the face, my heart seemed to stop. The man had
his mouth open and his hand raised to give an order which would
certainly have sent Anne de Caylus from the world, when I cried
passionately--it was my last chance, and I never wished to live more
strongly than at that moment--I cried passionately, "Andrea
Pallavicini, if such be your name, look at that! Look at that!" I
repeated, shaking my open hand with the ring on it before his face,
"and then hinder me if you dare! To-morrow if you have quarterings
enough, I will see to your quarrel! Now send me on my way, or your
fate be on your own head! Disobey--ay, do but hesitate--and I will
call on these very men of yours to cut you down!"
It was a bold throw, for I staked all on a talisman of which I did not
know the value! To me it was the turn of a die, for I had had no
leisure to look at the ring, and knew no more than a babe whose it was.
But the venture was as happy as desperate.
Andrea Pallavicini's expression--no pleasant one at the best of
times--changed on the instant. His face fell as he seized my hand, and
peered at the ring long and intently. Then he cast a quick glance of
suspicion at his men, of hatred at me. But I cared nothing for his
glance, or his hatred. I saw already that he had made up his mind to
obey the charm: and that for me was everything. "If you had shown
that to me a little earlier, young sir, it would, maybe, have been
better for both of us," he said, a surly menace in his voice. And
cursing his men for their stupidity he ordered two of them to unmoor a
boat.
Apparently the craft had been secured with more care than skill, for to
loosen it seemed to be a work of time. Meanwhile I stood waiting in
the midst of the group, anxious and yet exultant; an object of
curiosity, and yet curious myself. I heard the guards whisper
together, and caught such phrases as "It is the Duc d'Aumale."
"No, it is not D'Aumale. It is nothing like him."
"Well, he has the Duke's ring, fool!"
"The Duke's?"
"Ay."
"Then it is all right, God bless him!" This last was uttered with
extreme fervour.
I was conscious too of being the object of many respectful glances; and
had just bidden the men on the steps below me to be quick, when I
discovered with alarm three figures moving across the open space
towards us, and coming apparently from the same point from which
Pallavicini and his men had emerged.
In a moment I foresaw danger. "Now be quick there!" I cried again.
But scarcely had I spoken before I saw that it was impossible to get
afloat before these others came up, and I prepared to stand my ground
resolutely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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