The Son of Clemenceau, A Novel of Modern Love and LifeDumas, Alexandre
General
The Son of Clemenceau, A Novel of Modern Love and Life
Dumas, Alexandre
Fiction
But the beggars had flocked into the rich quarter, and their
chieftainess vanished. He allowed the military gentleman to pass, and
was not sorry to see him cross the bridge with a steady, haughty step,
which made his heel ring on each plank. But, on reaching the farther
end, to the surprise of the watcher, his carriage immediately altered;
his step became cautious and, like the other whom he had not noticed, he
skulked in a doorway. He might have been thought a visitor there, but,
at the next moment, his red whiskers reappeared between the turned-up
collar of his mantle as he showed his head under the cornice of oak.
For what motive had the officer and nobleman stooped to skulking and
prying. One alone would amply exonerate the son of Mars--devotion to
Venus. And the architectural student, not fearing to pass the soldier in
his excusable ambush for a sweetheart, since his route over the bridge
into the new city, and not wishful to spoil the lover's sport, since he
was of the age to sympathize, prepared to leave his nook.
But it was fated that continual impediments were to be thrown in his
path on this eventful night. He had hardly taken two steps out of his
covert, which kept him hidden from the officer but revealed him to any
one approaching in the street, before a third individual of singular
mien caught his view and transfixed him with a thrill so sharp, poignant
and profound that a stroke of lightning would not have more dreadfully
affected him.
And yet, it was a woman--young by her step, light and quick as the
antelope's, graceful by her movements, charming by her outlines which a
poor, thin woolen wrapper imperfectly shrouded. She enchanted by the
mere contour; it was her weird burden which appalled the watcher. In one
hand, suspended horizontally, lengthwise parallel to her course, she
held what seemed by shape and somber hue to be an infant's coffin.
Her dark and brilliant eyes had descried him from the distance, but, in
an instant recognizing that he was neither one of the usual nocturnal
denizens nor another sort of whom she need entertain dread, she came on
apace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account