France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction; Fronde -- Fiction
"Oho!" he thought, "I wonder if they have designs on me and the
thousand louis I have with me. But no; for, even if Richon comes,
so that I can go on this evening, I am going to Libourne, and not to
Saint-André-de-Cubzac, and so shall not pass the spot where those
villains are in ambush. If my old Pompée were here, I would consult
him. But what's this? If I'm not mistaken--yes, on my word, there are
two more men! Gad! this has every appearance of an ambuscade in form."
He stepped still farther back, for it was true that at that moment
two other horsemen appeared at the same point; but only one of these
two wore the gray helmet. The other, astride a powerful black horse,
and wrapped in the folds of an ample cloak, wore a hat trimmed with
gold lace and adorned with a white feather; and beneath the cloak, as
the evening breeze blew it aside, could be seen an abundance of rich
embroidery upon a reddish doublet.
One would have said that the day was prolonging itself in order to
light this scene, for the sun's last rays, as the luminary came forth
from behind a bank of those dark clouds which sometimes stretch so
picturesquely along the horizon at sundown, suddenly set ablaze a
thousand rubies in the windows of a pretty little house, situated a
hundred yards or less from the river, and which the young man would
not otherwise have noticed, as it was in a great measure concealed by
trees. This additional supply of light enabled him to see in the first
place that the spies were watching the end of the village street and
the little house with the shining windows, looking from one to the
other; secondly, that the gray helmets seemed to have the greatest
respect for the white feather; and lastly, that one of the windows
in question was thrown open, and a woman appeared upon the balcony,
looked about for a moment, as if she too were expecting some one, then
re-entered the house as if she wished to avoid being seen.
As she disappeared, the sun sank behind the hill, and as it sank, the
ground-floor of the house was immersed in darkness, and the light,
gradually abandoning the windows, ascended to the slate roof, to
disappear at last, after playing for a moment with a weather-vane
consisting of a sheaf of golden arrows.
In the facts we have detailed there was ample material for any
intelligent mind to build up a structure of probabilities, if not of
certainties.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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