Battle of the Strong — Volume 1 by Gilbert Parker
page 38 of 77 (49%)
page 38 of 77 (49%)
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this cane with the tiny golden bust of his unhappy monarch.
He stood on the steps of the prison and looked serenely on the muttering, excited crowd. "I fear there is a mistake," said he, coughing a little into his fingers. "You do not seek me. I--I have no claim upon your kindness; I am only the Chevalier Orvilliers du Champsavoys de Beaumanoir." For a moment the mob had been stayed in amazement by this small, rare creature stepping from the doorway, like a porcelain coloured figure from some dusky wood in a painting by Claude. In the instant's pause the Chevalier Orvilliers du Champsavoys de Beaumanoir took from his pocket a timepiece and glanced at it, then looked over the heads of the crowd towards the hooded sun, which now, a little, was showing its face again. "It was due at eight, less seven minutes," said he; "clear sun again was set for ten minutes past. It is now upon the stroke of the hour." He seemed in no way concerned with the swaying crowd before him-- undoubtedly they wanted naught of him, and therefore he did not take their presence seriously; but, of an inquiring mind, he was absorbed in the eclipse. "He's a French sorcerer! He has the evil eye! Away with him to the sea!" shouted the fanatical preacher from the Pompe des Brigands. "It's a witch turned into a man!" cried a drunken woman from her window. "Give him the wheel of fire at the blacksmith's forge." |
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