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Updated: May 12, 2025
Clyffurde, my good Emery," said de Marmont as soon as Bobby had disappeared inside the inn. "He really takes no part in politics. He is a friend alike of the Comte de Cambray and of glovemaker Dumoulin. He has visited our Bonapartist Club. Dumoulin has vouched for him. You see, he is not a fighting man." "I suppose that you are equally sure that he is not an English spy," remarked Emery drily.
How Clyffurde got back to his lodgings that night he never knew. Crystal, after his final admission, had turned without another word from him, and he had stood there in the lonely, silent street watching her retreating form on her father's arm until the mist and gloom swallowed her up as in an elvish grave. Then mechanically he hunted for his hat and he, too, walked away.
He continued to murmur these short, jerky sentences almost inaudibly, avoiding the while to meet the enquiring and puzzled gaze of the Englishman. When he paused still murmuring, but quite inaudibly now Clyffurde made no comment, and once more there fell a silence over the narrow room.
"The army will the people will " Clyffurde shrugged his shoulders. "The army, yes," he said slowly, "but the people .
"It may be at the Château de Brestalou in the keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray: and this I shall find out first of all. But I must not stand gossiping any longer. I must see Colonel de la Bédoyère and get the men I want. What are your plans, my dear Clyffurde?" "The same as before," replied Bobby quietly. "I shall leave Grenoble as soon as I can."
Clyffurde turned to have a last look at them before he went into the house, and while he did so his habitual, pleasant, gently-ironical smile still hovered round his lips. But anon a quickly-suppressed sigh chased the smile away, and over his face there crept a strange shadow a look of longing and of bitter regret.
It had filled his entire soul from the moment when first he saw her down in the garden under an avenue of ilex trees which cast their mysterious shadows over her; her father had called to her and she had come across to where he Clyffurde stood silently watching this approaching vision of loveliness which never would vanish from his mental gaze again.
"Of course you are," said Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured smile as he grasped Surgeon-Captain Emery's extended hand. "It is the hand of a friend I am grasping?" insisted Emery. "Of a personal friend, if you will call him so," replied Clyffurde. "Politically, I hardly count, you see. I am just a looker-on at the game."
The younger man made no reply. A shadow seemed to gather over his face a look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait for the great adventurer, had touched the young enthusiast with a warning finger. Whereupon Clyffurde resumed gaily once more: "Shall we," he said, "go slowly on now as far as the village? It is not yet ten o'clock. Emery cannot possibly be here before noon."
Putting the question aside of your abominable theft, you have committed an outrage against people whom I honour, and against the woman whom I love." "Nor do I propose to give you any explanation, M. de St. Genis," retorted Clyffurde, who still spoke quite quietly and evenly.
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