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Of him, Sir Launcelot had spoken highly; he held him in great esteem, and so had counseled the youthful knight to make it his purpose to visit him when there. Sir Guilbert gave him friendly greeting. Many had been his visits to England, well he knew Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and the great King himself.
To his ear there was in her voice a little touch not of bitterness, but of something, as it were, muffled or reserved. Was she thinking how he had robbed her child of the chance of heritage at Bercy? He did not reply, but, stooping, put the watch again to the child's ear. "There you are, monseigneur!" "Why do you call him monseigneur?" she asked. "Guilbert has no title to your compliment."
Many descriptions of Fontainebleau have been written, but the works of Poirson, Pfnor and Champollion-Figèac are generally followed by most makers of guidebooks, and, though useful, they have perpetuated many errors which were known to have been doubtful even before their day. The best account of Fontainebleau under François I is given in the manuscript memoir of Abbé Guilbert.
As for the Colonel I don't know if I have ever tried to describe him to you. He is a man who invites description. Of all the men in the army he is the one you would single out to sketch. An artist would be at him at once. He is the living image of what one imagines Brian de Bois Guilbert to have been. But this is only half the man. In ordinary talk he is quite different.
He will be of great help to me when I reach Rome for I purpose to journey there, I know naught of the tongue." "Have you told the lad, as yet?" the father asked. "I thought it best that either you or your lady speak first with him and then will I." "That is a gracious deed on your part, my knight. And if it bears fruit or not, I shall indeed be in your debt." "Not so, Sir Guilbert.
Every evening, when his work was done, Guilbert came to visit his future bride. This evening he came as usual, and Renelde told him what Burchard had said. 'Would you like me to watch for the Wolf, and split his skull with a blow from my axe? 'No, replied Renelde, 'there must be no blood on my bridal bouquet. And then we must not hurt the Count. Remember how good the Countess was to my mother.
"No, it is much more than that, it is much, much more than that," she broke in. "No, I am afraid it is not," he answered; "but that is not what I wished to say. I wished to say that for monseigneur here " A little flash of anger came into her eyes. He is no monseigneur, he is Guilbert d'Avranche," she said bitterly. "It is not like you to mock my child, Prince.
I dashed, at last, into the quadrangle, and, throwing the reins to a gaping groom, I sprang up the steps. "Has the Chevalier returned?" I gasped breathlessly. "Not yet, Monsieur," answered Guilbert with a tranquillity that made me desire to strangle him. "Is Mademoiselle in the chateau?" was my next question, mechanically asked. "I saw her on the terrace some moments ago.
"There'll be no need for Guilbert to go from you," he rejoined, "for when your rights come to you, Philip d'Avranche will not be living." "Will not be living!" she said in amazement. She did not understand. "I mean to kill him," he answered sternly. She started, and the light of anger leaped into her eyes. "You mean to kill Philip d'Avranche you, Maitre Ranulph Delagarde!" she exclaimed.
"Oh!" she cried in pretty anger, "this is insufferable! 'T is your fault, Guilbert, you fool. Am I, then, to spend the day here in the common-room?" "No, no, Mademoiselle," exclaimed the host in his most soothing accents. "Only for an hour, or less, perhaps, until this very noble lord is risen, when assuredly for he is young and very gallant he will resign one or both of his rooms to you."
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