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Updated: May 25, 2025
But those who heard it on the shore and all Farlingford was there by this time only laughed curtly. Some of the women exchanged a glance and made imperfectly developed gestures, as of a tolerance understood between mothers for anything that is young and inconsequent. "We've gotten Loo Barebone back at any rate," said a man, bearing the reputation of a wit.
They were all looking at Loo Barebone. Colville sought Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence, usually in full evidence, even in a room full of beautiful women and distinguished men. But she was not there. For a minute or two no one noticed him; and then Albert de Chantonnay, remembering his role, came forward to greet the Englishman. "It was," explained Colville, in a lowered voice, "as we thought.
"There is no knowing," admitted Colville, with his air of suppressing a half-developed yawn, "but I think we know, all the same you and I, Marquis. And there is no hurry." After three days Loo Barebone had still given no answer.
But any one who wished to move from place to place must needs do so in the saddle in a country where land is so valuable that the width of a road is grudged, and bridle-ways are deemed good enough for the passage of the long and narrow carts that carry wine. Ever since their somewhat precipitate departure from the Villa Cordouan at Royan, Dormer Colville and Barebone had been in company.
Thus Loo Barebone turned his back on the ship which had been his home so long and set out into a new world; a new and unknown life, with the Marquis de Gemosac's ringing words buzzing in his brain yet; with the warm touch of Juliette's lips burning still upon his hand. "You are the grandson of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette! You are the Last Hope of France!"
And each evening the drawing-room, which was not a small one, had been filled to overflowing. Friends brought their friends and introduced them to the hostess, who in turn presented them to Barebone. Some came from a distance, driving from Saintes or La Rochelle or Pons. Others had taken houses for the bathing-season at Royan itself.
It is to be presumed that he knew that the ally he had looked to for powerful aid had played him false at the crucial moment. His misfortune is common to all men who presume to take anything for granted from a woman. Barebone, stumbling along in the dark in another direction, was as angry with Miriam as she in her turn was angry with Turner. She was, Barebone reflected, so uncompromising.
Barebone walked toward the gate without joining in the talk of his companions. He was thoughtful and uneasy. He had come to say good-bye and nothing else. He was wondering if he had really meant what he had said. "Come," interrupted Colville's smooth voice. "We must get into the saddle and begone.
"I have the money here," he said, "in this cupboard." And as he spoke, a hollow rumble, echoing in the court-yard, marked the exit of a carriage under the archway into the Rue Lafayette. There had been only one carriage in attendance in the court-yard that in which Colville had left Barebone. "Here, in this cupboard," repeated Turner to unheeding ears.
And Barebone, looking at them, knew that there was a barrier between him and them which none could cast aside: a barrier erected in the past and based on the sure foundations of history. "She is an old woman," said Monsieur de Gemosac to any who spoke to him on this subject.
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