The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of ReligionCrockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
History
The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of Religion
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
France -- History -- Wars of the Huguenots, 1562-1598 -- Fiction
"That for the great folk," cried the young man, snapping his fingers;
"they are no greater than any daughter of the house of the Llorients of
Collioure. Besides, they have seen her already. The duchess passed her
yesterday with the Countess Livia on her way to the rock-fishing. But I
will not tell what she reported of you to the duke, or it might make you
vain!"
Claire moved uneasily. The man's eyes affected her curiously. She would
now very gladly have sat as close to the Abbé John as even that
encroaching youth could have wished.
"Do you know, little cousin," the lord of the manor continued, after a
pause in which no one spoke, "you are not very gracious to your
kinsfolk? Perhaps you have more of them than I--in Scotland, maybe?"
Claire shook her head sadly enough.
"Save these good friends here, I am alone in the world," she answered
steadily. "I do not know my father's family in Scotland. I think they
know as little of me as you did before entering that door!"
"Perhaps," Raphael went on courteously, "that is more than you think. We
are a poor little village, a poverty-stricken countryside, in which such
a pearl as you cannot long be hidden. Somebody will surely be wanting it
for their crown!"
"Pearls mean tears and of those I have shed enough," said Claire simply;
"also I have seen and heard much of crowns and those who wear them. I
would rather stay at the Mas and take the goats to the mountains,
and----"
"The learned Professor to the beach!" added Raphael, with a curl of his
lip.
"Indeed, yes!" cried Claire, reaching out her hand to the Professor. "I
am always happy with him. He teaches me so many things. My father was a
wise man, but he lacked the time to talk much with me."
"And I dare say the learned Professor of the Sorbonne gives his time
willingly," said the Lord of Collioure; "his tastes are not singular.
And pray, of your courtesy, what might he teach you in your
_tête-à-têtes_?"
"I have everything to learn," Claire answered with intent, "except
fencing with the small-sword and how to shoot straight with a pistol!
These my father taught me!"
"Ah," cried Raphael Llorient, clapping his hands, "this is a dangerous
damsel to offend. Why, you could call us all out, and kill us one by
one, if duelling were not forbidden in Spain!"
"I stand for peace," said the Professor, interrupting unexpectedly, for
even after many years filled with learned labours and crowned with
success, the feudal reverence was strong on him; "I am a man of peace,
but there are many who would not let Mistress Claire go without a
defender. Even I----"
The feudal superior laughed unpleasantly.
"Oh, yes," he cried, "you would defend her with a syllogism, draw your
major and minor premises upon the insulter, and vanquish the lady's foes
before a full meeting of the Sorbonne!"
"Indeed," returned the Professor shortly, "we have had some meetings of
that body lately which came near to losing kings their thrones!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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