Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
without deigning to ask it a single question; nor could it have
satisfied his curiosity if he had, for no sun happened to shine at the
moment. He then hastened forward, muffling himself in his cloak, and
assuming a stooping and slouching gait, which diminished his apparent
height. He was soon involved in the deep and dim alleys of the wood,
into which he had insensibly plunged himself, and was traversing it at
a great rate, without having any distinct idea in what direction he was
going, when suddenly his course was arrested, first by a loud hello,
and then by a summons to stand, accompanied by what seemed still more
startling and extraordinary, the touch of a cane upon his shoulder,
imposed in a good-humoured but somewhat imperious manner.
There were few symptoms of recognition which would have been welcome at
this moment; but the appearance of the person who had thus arrested his
course, was least of all that he could have anticipated as timely or
agreeable. When he turned, on receiving the signal, he beheld himself
close to a young man, nearly six feet in height, well made in joint and
limb, but the gravity of whose apparel, although handsome and
gentlemanlike, and a sort of precision in his habit, from the cleanness
and stiffness of his band to the unsullied purity of his
Spanish-leather shoes, bespoke a love of order which was foreign to the
impoverished and vanquished cavaliers, and proper to the habits of
those of the victorious party, who could afford to dress themselves
handsomely; and whose rule—that is, such as regarded the higher and
more respectable classes—enjoined decency and sobriety of garb and
deportment. There was yet another weight against the Prince in the
scale, and one still more characteristic of the inequality in the
comparison, under which he seemed to labour. There was strength in the
muscular form of the stranger who had brought him to this involuntary
parley, authority and determination in his brow, a long rapier on the
left, and a poniard or dagger on the right side of his belt, and a pair
of pistols stuck into it, which would have been sufficient to give the
unknown the advantage, (Louis Kerneguy having no weapon but his sword,)
even had his personal strength approached nearer than it did to that of
the person by whom he was thus suddenly stopped.
Bitterly regretting the thoughtless fit of passion that brought him
into his present situation, but especially the want of the pistols he
had left behind, and which do so much to place bodily strength and
weakness upon an equal footing, Charles yet availed himself of the
courage and presence of mind, in which few of his unfortunate family
had for centuries been deficient. He stood firm and without motion, his
cloak still wrapped round the lower part of his face, to give time for
explanation, in case he was mistaken for some other person.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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