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Updated: June 28, 2025
A moment's glance, and he made sure that it was the room occupied as a sleeping apartment by Monsieur de Boisdhyver. The Marquis was standing by the window, with his face pressed close to the pane, peering out into the night. He still held the candle in his hand.
I am informed, you understand, of your brilliant rescue of Mademoiselle Eloise de Boisdhyver." "If you mean Nancy Frost by Mademoiselle Eloise de Boisdhyver, madam, your information is correct. I gathered that you had been told of this, when I saw Captain Bonhomme make his way to the House on the Dunes this morning." "Ah! What eyes, monsieur!" exclaimed the lady.
I confess you must remember that the Marquis de Boisdhyver has been a soldier that my friends have not agreed with me entirely. It has seemed to them simpler that we should keep you a prisoner on this ship, as we could so easily do, until our mission is accomplished. But, I like you too much to agree to that."
"But I have grown accustomed to having my privacy examined over-curiously during the few days I have spent on your hospitable shores. Mais pardon my purpose in coming to the Inn at the Red Oak this morning was but to request that my name be conveyed to Monsieur the Marquis de Boisdhyver." "You mean, madam, that you wish to see the Marquis?"
It was about five o'clock when, his arrangements completed, he returned to the bar, where Monsieur de Boisdhyver was quietly taking his tea. Tom bowed to the old gentleman, seated himself in a great chair about five feet away, and somewhat ostentatiously took from his pocket a pistol, laid it on the arm of his chair, and let his fingers lightly play upon the handle.
"It would do me good, after what I have seen to-night, to put a bit of lead into the Marquis de Boisdhyver as a memento of his so delightful sojourn at L'Auberge au Chene Rouge." The two young men felt self-conscious and ill-at-ease the next morning at the breakfast table, but apparently their embarrassment was neither shared nor observed. Mrs.
Well, Monsieur, at Waterloo, you must know, the Marechal and his brother, the present Marquis, fought side by side. Francois de Boisdhyver fell, nobly fighting for the glory of France; Marie-Anne had the good fortune to preserve his life, but was taken prisoner by the English. Before the Marechal received his death wound, the two brothers spoke with each other for the last time.
The lady, whoever she might be, advanced along the beach and turned into the road down which the Marquis de Boisdhyver was going to meet her. Tom could see her extend her hand, and the old gentleman, bending ceremoniously, lift it to his lips. Then leaning against a stone wall beside a meadow of bedraggled snow, they engaged in animated conversation. The lady talked, the Marquis talked.
"Bien!" exclaimed Monsieur de Boisdhyver, "permit me to wish you good luck in your undertaking. I repeat, Monsieur Pembroke, I have no information to give to you. I do not know to what extent I have been watched, but I may say with truth that my actions do not in the least concern you." "They concern my friends," said Tom.
"Yes, the uncle of Nancy Frost, or of Eloise de Boisdhyver." "I see," said Dan. "I begin to see." "Eh bien, monsieur. General Pointelle the marechal de Boisdhyver, left the Inn at the Red Oak upon a mission for the Emperor, then at Elba. Helas! that mission ended with disaster after the Hundred Days; for, as you know, the Emperor was sent in exile to St.
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