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"And what did you do with me?" "A chief of the Iroquois Indians can tell you that." "This is a clumsy story, Bellenger. Try again." "Sire " "If you knew so little of the country, how did you find an Iroquois chief?" "I met him in the woods when he was hunting. I offered to give you to him, pretending you had the annuity from Europe.
"Nothing. She leaned on the women and they took her away." "Tell me all you saw." "When you went in to hold council, I watched, and saw a priest and Bellenger and the boy that God had touched, all go in after you. So I knew the council would be bad for you, Lazarre, and I stood by the door with my knife in my hand.
"This is not the boy you had in London, monsieur," she said to Bellenger. The potter waved his hands and shrugged. "You believe, madame, that Lazarre is the boy you saw in London?" said Louis Philippe. "I am certain of it." "What proofs have you?" "The evidence of my eyes." "Tell that to Monsieur!" exclaimed the potter. "Who is Monsieur?" I asked.
If my mind had been upon the priest, I should have wondered what he came for. He did not press his message. "The court is again in exile?" I said, when we could ride abreast. "At Ghent." "Bellenger visited me last September. He was without a dauphin." "We could supply the deficiency," Abbé Edgeworth pleasantly replied. "With the boy he left in Europe?" "Oh, dear no. With royal dukes.
Madame d'Angoulême took her hands from her face and our eyes met one instant, but the idiot whined like a dog. She shuddered, and covered her sight. The priest turned from Bellenger to me with a fair-minded expression, and inquired, "What have you to say?" I had a great deal to say, though the only hearer I expected to convince was my sister.
When it was ended she drew some deep breaths in the silence. "Sire, you must be very careful. That Bellenger is an evil man." "But a weak one." "There may be a strength of court policy behind him." "The policy of the court at Mittau is evidently a policy of denial." "Your sister believed in you." "Yes, she believed in me."
Bellenger's countenance changed, and he took his hand off his hip and let it hang down. "I received the prince, monsieur, from those who took him out of the Temple prison." "And you never exchanged him for another person, or allowed him to be separated from you?" Bellenger swore with ghastly lips "Never, on my hopes of salvation, monsieur the abbé!"
"I have been on a journey. Was his death sudden?" "He was killed in a duel in Paris." I sat down on the grass with my head in my hands. Bellenger had told the truth. One scant month the Marquis du Plessy fostered me like a son. To this hour my slow heart aches for the companionship of the lightest, most delicate spirit I ever encountered in man. Once I lifted my head and insisted,
But when you went to France, I blocked your way with all the ingenuity I could bring." "I would like to ask you, Bellenger, what a man is called who attempts the life of his king?" "Sire, the tricks of royalists pitted us against each other." "That's enough, Bellenger. I don't believe a word you say, excepting that part of your story agreeing with Madame de Ferrier's.
"That being the case, how are we to account for the true dauphin's reception at Mittau?" "The gross stupidity and many blunders of agents that the court was obliged to employ, need hardly be assumed." "Poor Bellenger! He has to take abuse from both sides in order that we may be polite to each other." "As Monseigneur suggests, we will not go into that matter."
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