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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Count Hannibal A Romance of the Court of France"

Carlat had made a couch for her, and screened
it with cloaks from the wind and the eye; for the moon had risen and
where the trees stood sparsest its light flooded the soil with pools of
white. But Madame had not yet retired to her bed. The two men, whose
voices reached her, saw her from time to time moving restlessly to and
fro between the road and the little encampment. Presently she came and
stood over them.
"He led His people out of the wilderness," La Tribe was saying; "out of
the trouble of Paris, out of the trouble of Angers, and always, always
southward. If you do not in this, Monsieur, see His finger--"
"And Angers?" Tignonville struck in, with a faint sneer. "Has He led
that out of trouble? A day or two ago you would risk all to save it, my
friend. Now, with your back safely turned on it, you think all for the
best."
"We did our best," the minister answered humbly. "From the day we met in
Paris we have been but instruments."
"To save Angers?"
"To save a remnant."
On a sudden the Countess raised her hand. "Do you not hear horses,
Monsieur?" she cried. She had been listening to the noises of the night,
and had paid little heed to what the two were saying.
"One of ours moved," Tignonville answered listlessly. "Why do you not
lie down, Madame?"
Instead of answering, "Whither is he going?" she asked.


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