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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Not yet awhile," said he, in a voice so odiously sweet that Garnache caught his breath. He drew her towards him. Despite her wild struggles he held her fast against his breast. Do what she would, he rained his hot kisses on her face and hair, till at last, freeing a hand, she smote him with all her might across the face. He let her go then.
"Should you observe me to be anywhere at error, I beg, monsieur, that you will have the complaisance to correct me." The Seneschal bowed gravely, and Monsieur de Garnache continued: "Now this younger son I believe that he is in his twenty-first year at present has been something of a scapegrace." "A scapegrace? Bon Dieu, no. That is a harsh name to give him.
This inner courtyard was little tenanted at that time of day, and the sentry at the door of the tower was only placed there at nightfall. Alongside this there stood another door, opening into a passage from which access might be gained to any part of the chateau. Thrusting behind that door the earthenware vessel that he carried, Garnache sped swiftly down the corridor on his eavesdropping errand.
Never was there a man with a better stomach for a fight than Martin de Garnache, nor did he stop to consider that here his appetite in that direction was likely to be indulged to a surfeit. The sight of those three men opposing him, swords drawn and Fortunio armed in addition with a dagger, drove from his mind every other thought, every other consideration but that of the impending battle.
Garnache thought of other things besides the weather that he had found indifferent, and he felt warmed almost to the point of anger at the very recollection. But he bowed again, and answered amiably enough. The young man offered him a seat, assuring him that his mother would not keep him waiting long. The page had already gone upon his errand.
Furious, picturing to himself how the alarm would spread like a conflagration through the chateau, cursing his headstrong folly yet determined that Marius at least should not escape him, Garnache put forth his energies to hinder him from gaining the door that opened on to the stairs.
The answer was one that disarmed Garnache, in spite of his mistrust of Tressan, and followed as it now was by the Seneschal's profuse expressions of joy at seeing Garnache safe and well, it left him clearly unable to pursue the subject of his grievance in this particular connection.
"It is you who mistake if you propose to tell me that this is not my supper. Am I to wait all night, while every jackanapes who follows me into your pigsty is to be served before me?" "Jackanapes?" said Garnache thoughtfully, and looked the man in the face again.
And with that he turned and advanced to Garnache. His whilom arrogance was all fallen from him; he wore instead an air of extreme contrition. "Monsieur, what shall I say to you?" he asked in a voice that was rather small. "It seems there has been an error. I am deeply grieved, believe me "
"It was Garnache," said Fortunio, "and if the information will serve you, it was I who slew him." "You?" cried Florimond. "Tell me of it, I beg you." "Do you fool us?" questioned Marius in a rage that overmastered his astonishment, his growing suspicion that here all was not quite as it seemed. "Fool you? But no. I do but wish to show you something that I learned in Italy.
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