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Updated: June 14, 2025
It was a long dark room, paneled to the ceiling, and the two candles on the table did little more to define their lineaments to each other than the flames of briquet and match. The concierge served and they talked of the Peace Conference and of the general pessimism that prevailed. Same old diplomacy. Same old diplomatists. Same old ambitions. Same old European policies.
The third suit is enriched with engraving, and was formerly parcel gilt, but the helmet does not belong to the suit. The designs on this display the Burgundian cross ragulé and the flint and steel. The steel or briquet is to be seen also in the hinges and in the metal coverings for the reins. It will be remembered that this design forms the motif of the collar of the Golden Fleece.
It was probably this noise that attracted a young and handsome cavalier, with a violet cap, red plume, and gray mantle, who, after stopping for some minutes to hear this noise, went on slowly and pensively toward the house of Robert Briquet.
The light of a briquet was not precisely searching, and for the most part he had looked like more than one war-worn British officer she had seen during her long residence in Paris....It was something in the eyes...she could have vowed they were hazel...their expression had altered; it was that of a somewhat ironic man of the world, which had changed as she watched them to the piercing alertness of a man of action...but after...was it perhaps an emanation of the personality that had so impressed her angry young soul and refused to be obliterated?
"Then I will finish executing your orders, reverend prior," said Borromée, retiring with Jacques. "Go," said Gorenflot, majestically. "Ah!" said Borromée, "I had forgotten; there is a friend in the parlor who asks to see your reverence." "What is his name?" "M. Robert Briquet." "Oh! he is not a friend; only an acquaintance." "Then your reverence will not see him?"
I will tell the cook that if the fare be not regal, he shall be placed in confinement; and we will try some of the wine of my penitent." "I will aid you with my judgment." Gorenflot was not long in giving his orders. The cook was summoned. "Brother Eusebius," said Gorenflot, in a severe voice, "listen to what my friend M. Briquet is about to tell you.
The court was full of guards and men wrapped in cloaks, and eight horses, saddled and bridled, waited in a corner; but there was not a light to be seen. Poulain whispered his name to the porter, and added, "I bring a good companion." "Pass on." "Take these to the magazine," said Poulain, handing the cuirasses to a soldier. "Now I will present you," said he to Briquet. "No, I am very timid.
Come on then!" he added aloud, "if you will." "To life or death!" cried Briquet, and he continued to talk in this strain till they arrived near the Hotel Guise, where Nicholas Poulain stopped. "I fancied it would be here," thought Briquet. "Now," said Nicholas, with a tragic air, "there is still time to retire before entering the lion's den." "Bah! I have entered many.
"I am Robert Briquet, the terror of schismatics, the friend of the Union, and a fierce Catholic; and you are not Nicholas Gimbelot, the currier." "No, no! good-by." "What! are you going?" "Yes!" and he ran off. But Robert Briquet was not a man to be foiled; he jumped from his balcony and ran after him. "You are mad!" said he.
"Why, you say to yourself, Dom Modeste Gorenflot is rising he is on the ascending scale." "While I am on the descending one, I suppose?" "It is the fault of your false position, M. Briquet." "M. Gorenflot, do you remember the text, 'He who humbles himself, shall be exalted?" "Nonsense!" cried Gorenflot. "Ah! now he doubts the Holy Writ; the heretic!" "Heretic, indeed!
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