Prev | Current Page 159 | Next

Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Count Hannibal A Romance of the Court of France"

Conde, indeed, stood
too small, but Navarre, if he lived, might fill that cloak; or Guise, or
Anjou, or the King himself. And while some would not have scrupled to
strike the blood royal, more would have been quick to protect and avenge
it. And so before the dark uncertainty of the mask, before the riddle of
the smiling eyes which glittered through the slits, they stared
irresolute; until a hand, the hand of one bolder than his fellows, was
raised to pluck away the screen.
The unknown dealt the fellow a buffet with his fist. "Down, rascal!" he
said hoarsely. "And you"--to the officer--"show me instantly to M. de
Biron!"
But the lieutenant, who stood in fear of his men, looked at him
doubtfully.
"Nay," he said, "not so fast!" And one of the others, taking the lead,
cried, "No! We may have no need of M. de Biron. Your name, monsieur,
first."
With a quick movement the stranger gripped the officer's wrist.
"Tell your master," he said, "that he who clasped his wrist _thus_ on the
night of Pentecost is here, and would speak with him! And say, mark you,
that I will come to him, not he to me!"
The sign and the tone imposed upon the boldest. Two-thirds of the watch
were Huguenots, who burned to avenge the blood of their fellows; and
these, overriding their officer, had agreed to deal with the intruder, if
a Papegot, without recourse to the Grand Master, whose moderation they
dreaded.


Pages:
147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171