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Updated: May 25, 2025
Sulpice and her knowledge of the marriage at once became evident, but he stated that he had met at the little village inn a strange man who over his cups had let out that he was in the employ of a M. de Crillon, and that they were looking out for a youngster of quality, who would soon find out to his cost that his master had in his pocket a little document with the signature of His Most Christian Majesty, which would provide him with a lodging for life, if even worse did not befall him.
There was a large sofa in a little room adjoining Madame de Pompadour's, upon which I often reposed. One evening, towards midnight, a bat flew into the apartment where the Court was; the King immediately cried out, "Where is General Crillon?" This set everybody calling out, "Ou etais tu, Crillon?" M. de Crillon soon after came in, and was told where the enemy was.
The immense, the boundless audacity of the proposal made some smile and some start. But none smiled so grimly as M. Michel Berthaud the challenger and none started so little as M. de Crillon, the challenged. "A high bid!" he said, lifting his chin with something almost of humour; and then glancing round him, as a wolf might glance, if the sheep turned on him. "You ask much, M. Berthaud."
But, at last making up my mind, I walked boldly up to Crillon and requested his good offices to procure me an immediate audience of the king. 'An audience? Do you mean you want to see him alone? he said, raising his eyebrows and looking whimsically at Biron. 'That is my petition, M. de Crillon, I answered firmly, though my heart sank.
It was hard to detect danger lurking under these things, under the silk, within the flashing, gleaming cups, behind smiling eyes; still harder to discern below these fair appearances a peril from which a Crillon shrank. But to Bazan, as he waited with tortured nerves, these things were nothing. They were no more than fair flowers to the man who espies the coils of a snake among the blossoms.
The tall man recoiled sharply as he turned. He laid his hand on his sword and partly drew it. "Who are you?" he said, trying in the darkness to make out the other's features. "M. de Crillon, is it not?" the young man asked. "Yes. And you, young sir?" "My name is Claude de Bazan, but you do not know me, I have a word to say to you." "You have chosen an odd time, my friend."
It was not merely because representatives of foreign governments found Colonel House easy to see when they could not gain access to President Wilson that kept a throng running to his quarters in the Crillon; it was because there they found the line of least resistance. There was the readiest sympathy. There was the greatest desire to accommodate.
At the end of the month the Duc de Crillon arrived, and took command of the besiegers. A private letter, that was brought in by a privateer that had captured a merchantman, on her way, gave the garrison an idea of the method in which the attack was to be made.
He has outwitted us at last." "His Majesty has asked, M. de Crillon," said one at the table, speaking in the haughty, imperious tone of a man who never spoke unheeded, "what is the meaning of all this? Perhaps you will kindly satisfy him." "I will satisfy him," Crillon answered, grimly fixing his eyes on the other's handsome face. "And you, too, M. de Guise.
And the monk went away as fast as he could, much astonished not to be followed by guards. "Now, my son," said Chicot, "keep twenty men for your own escort, and send ten with M. Crillon to the Hotel d'Anjou and let them bring your-brother here." "Why?" "That he may not escape a second time." "Did my brother " "Have you repented following my advice to-day?" "No, par le mordieu."
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