The Man-at-Arms; or, Henry De Cerons. Volumes I and IIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Man-at-Arms; or, Henry De Cerons. Volumes I and II
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Huguenots -- Fiction
Soldiers may, and, doubtless, have a multitude of faults; but the
tenderness and care which they can sometimes exhibit towards the weak
and the suffering, forms a strange contrast with the savage fury they
display under excitement. Nothing could exceed the kindness, the
diligence, the attention with which they crowded round to give
assistance to poor Louise, one cheering her with a kindly word,
another bringing in the pillions to make a comfortable seat for her, a
third rushing in with his arms full of apple-branches, which he had
torn down from the neighbouring trees, and which, placed on a hearth
that we found in the inner room, soon raised a cheerful and a blazing
fire.
Moric Endem, for his part, brought from his saddlebow an appendage
without which he never travelled, and which, on the present occasion,
proved of the utmost service. This was a gourd, dried in the form of a
bottle, and filled with excellent wine, and I insisted upon Louise
drinking some, which, I believe, more than anything, prevented her
from suffering severely. Some more piles of wood were soon brought in,
together with other cloaks; and Moric and the rest, having seen that
everything had been done to make Louise as comfortable as the
circumstances admitted, retired into the larger division of the barn,
to provide, as best they might, for the passing of a long winter's
night, Moric leading the way, and saying, "Better leave the seigneur
and his cousin alone. I dare say they have a great deal to say to each
other."
"Is he her cousin?" I heard one of the men say as they went out,
turning at the same time to Andriot; "I thought most likely he was her
lover."
"He is her cousin," replied Andriot. "You might almost call them
brother and sister, indeed, for they have been like such all their
lives."
I had, indeed, always felt so towards Louise de Blancford; I had loved
her as a very dear sister, with whom no word had ever been exchanged
but that of kindness and affection, and such had been simply my
sensations till the moment when, quitting her father's house, I sought
my own fortunes in the wide world. I have said that then a dream came
up before my eyes; that a vision of future happiness connected itself
with the remembrance of Louise, that I felt that I could not be happy,
that I could not even figure to myself a state of happiness without
the dear, the beloved companion of my infancy and my youth.
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