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Updated: June 9, 2025
There, certainly, is the offence; there is a kind of vulgarity which seems native to the lower English mind and to the lower English stage. M. Capus is not a moralist, but it is not needful to be a moralist.
There are ten lances and two court ladies and a dozen or so of sumpter horses a brave show. They all lie at the priory at Longpont." "Thanks, Capus. Go now and rest." And as the man went I stood for a little looking after him, and then went back to the balcony, the letter in my hand.
Whilst the landlord was drinking with Capus I made my way to the kitchen, where my reception was chill, so I took myself out into the garden, and wandering down a pathway heard a whinny. 'Soh! said I to myself, 'that is a nag there! Sure enough there was, and I was about to step up to it when I heard a sound behind me, and heard someone coming up, and saw the light of a lantern.
We had passed Lencloître on our left, and in that dip, dark with walnut-trees, lay the little hamlet of Razines, which had so many memories for me. Up to now neither mademoiselle nor I had exchanged a word, as I rode well in the rear of our party, sending Capus, who knew the country, to lead us. Diane had so far kept her word, and rode behind Capus in silence.
In short, this region is one of the most interesting parts of Central Asia that a tourist can visit. If Major Noltitz had never been beyond Och station, at the foot of the plateau, he knew the district from having studied it on the modern maps and in the most recent books of travels. Among these I would mention those of Capus and Bonvalot again two French names I am happy to salute out of France.
There were but five leagues or so to cover ere we reached Montlhéry, and for almost the whole way we could see before us the castle that crowned the hill. At the ford of the Orge we saw a small group of horsemen, their arms shining in the sunlight. "'Tis the escort," said Capus, and quickening our pace we were soon with them, and I handed over my charge to De Lorgnac.
The next day, towards sunset, mademoiselle and I were once again upon the balcony of the inn, when I saw a horseman trotting past the parvis of St. Martin. I was sure it was Capus, and my doubts were soon at rest, for as he rounded the corner and came up the Rue St. Jacques I saw it was he, and signalled to him.
About half a mile from the town, standing in an old park famous for its huge beech trees, is the ancient Manor House of Birlstone. Part of this venerable building dates back to the time of the first crusade, when Hugo de Capus built a fortalice in the centre of the estate, which had been granted to him by the Red King.
We walked down the quaint village street with a row of pollarded elms on each side of it. Just beyond were two ancient stone pillars, weather-stained and lichen-blotched, bearing upon their summits a shapeless something which had once been the rampant lion of Capus of Birlstone.
sang Capus, grizzled old war-dog though he was, and, the spirit of the morning seizing us, we urged our horses down the slope, and scurried through the forest towards Chinon.
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