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Sir Nigel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
page 52 of 476 (10%)
inception, but quickening as the interest grew, until with darting
hands and glowing face she poured forth the verses which told of
the emptiness of sordid life, the beauty of heroic death, the high
sacredness of love and the bondage of honor. Nigel, with set,
still features and brooding eyes, drank in the fiery words, until
at last they died upon the old woman's lips and she sank back
weary in her chair.

Nigel stooped over her and kissed her brow. "Your words will ever
be as a star upon my path," said he. Then, carrying over the
small table and the chessmen, he proposed that they should play
their usual game before they sought their rooms for the night.

But a sudden and rude interruption broke in upon their gentle
contest. A dog pricked its ears and barked. The others ran
growling to the door. And then there came a sharp clash of arms,
a dull heavy blow as from a club or sword-pommel, and a deep voice
from without summoned them to open in the King's name. The old
dame and Nigel had both sprung to their feet, their table
overturned and their chessmen scattered among the rushes. Nigel's
hand had sought his crossbow, but the Lady Ermyntrude grasped his
arm.

"Nay, fair son! Have you not heard that it is in the King's
name?" said she. "Down, Talbot! Down, Bayard! Open the door
and let his messenger in!"

Nigel undid the bolt, and the heavy wooden door swung outward upon
its hinges. The light from the flaring cressets beat upon steel
caps and fierce bearded faces, with the glimmer of drawn swords
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