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Updated: May 29, 2025
You should have been hanged." "Monsieur d'Avranche!" said Guida reproachfully, turning round from the fire. Detricand's answer came biting and dry. "You are an officer of your King, as was I. You should know that hanging the invaders of Jersey would have been butchery. We were soldiers of France; we had the distinction of being prisoners of war, monsieur." This shot went home.
Shoreham of the Narcissus "Mad Shoreham of Galway" his father was called I knew him added his voice to the request also. Troubled in conscience thereby, yet I did marry the twain gladly, for I think a worthier maid never lived than this same Mistress Guida Landresse de Landresse, of the ancient family of the de Mauprats.
"Wherein is the trespass?" asked the Bailly sharply. "Tell your story." After an instant's painful pause, Guida told her tale. "Last night at Plemont," she said in a voice trembling a little at first but growing stronger as she went on, "I left my child, my Guilbert, in his bed, with Dormy Jamais to watch beside him, while I went to my boat which lies far from my hut.
What he wanted Carterette to tell him Guida never heard, though it concerned herself, for she gave a moan like a dumb animal in agony, and sat rigid and blanched, the needle she had been using embedded in her finger to the bone, but not a motion, not a sign of animation in face or figure. All at once, some conception of the truth burst upon the affrighted Carterette.
Hardly snatching sustenance from Fate, the peasant fights into greatness; the aristocrat may only win to it by rejecting Fate's luxuries. The peasant never escapes the austere teaching of hard experience, the aristocrat the languor of good fortune. There is the peasant and there am I. Voila! enough of Detricand of Vaufontaine. . . . The Princess Guida and the child, are they
He sent her a golden cup for the christening, but I wonder I wonder if he has forgotten her since? So quick of tongue, so bright of eye, so light of foot, so sweet a face if one could but be always young! When her grandmother, my wife, my Julie, when she was young ah, she was fair, fairer than Guida, but not so tall not quite so tall. Ah! . . . "
Drawing back in her seat she looked at him and at Guida, as one might watch the balances of justice weighing life and death. She could not read this story, but one glance at the faces of the crowd round her made her aware that here was a tale of the past which all knew in little or in much. "Haro! haro! A l'aide, mon Prince, on me fait tort!"
It had been a hot, oppressive day, but when, a half-hour later, Guida hastened back from a fruitless visit to the house of the Dean, who was absent in England, a vast black cloud had drawn up from the south-east, dropping a curtain of darkness upon the town.
But as suddenly there shot through his mind a thought which brought him to his feet with a spring. But suppose suppose that it was so suppose that through Guida the further succession might presently be made sure, and suppose he went to the Prince and told him all; that might win his favour for her; and the rest would be easy. That was it, as clear as day.
Their tongues shall be cut out. . . . Ah, my little, little child! . . . The Connetable dared he dared to tell me this evil gossip of the little one of my Guida!" He laughed contemptuously, but it was a crackling, dry laugh, painful in its cheerlessness.
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