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Updated: May 17, 2025
Men have died for less than one." "Ah!" Victor clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. "At the Hôtel de Périgny you called me a fool when the Chevalier struck me with his sword. I shall pass over that. The Chevalier was mad, and we all were excited. But three times in this tavern you have annoyed me. Your temperament, being that of a poet, at times gets the better of you.
"Nothing less, lad. The count has been greatly wronged by Monsieur le Marquis, and it is to be set to rights forthwith. Can you read?" "Yes." "Here is a letter which Monsieur le Curé wrote at Périgny. It was from old Martin's daughter." "God bless you, Monsieur," cried the happy Breton. He would have shouted for joy had not the quiet dignity of the old lackey put a damper on his enthusiasm.
In the Valois's time it had witnessed many a violent night; for men had held life in a careless hand, and the master of fence had been the law-giver. Three of the House of Périgny had closed their accounts thus roughly. The grandsire and granduncle of the present marquis, both being masters of fence, had succumbed in an attempt to give law to each other.
And this cunning Mazarin promises and promises us money and men, while those who reckon on his word struggle and die. Ah well, monseigneur has the gout; he will die of it." "And this Marquis de Périgny; will not Father Chaumonot waste his time?" asked the mariner. "Who can say? The marquis is a strange man. He is neither Catholic nor Huguenot; he fears neither God nor the devil.
For a moment her mind was confused; so many recollections awoke to life at the mention of this name. "The Marquis de Périgny!" Beaufort smiled. "Yes. Do you not recall the gay and brilliant marquis of fifteen years ago?" Madame colored. "You said that the past should be shaken from the shoulders like a worn-out cloak." "True. Ah, but that mad marquis!" reminiscently.
"You come, I believe, from an ancient and notable house." "Almost as notable as yours, Monsieur le Marquis," bowing in his wonder, though this wonder was not wholly free from suspicion. "Almost, but not quite," added the marquis. "The House of Périgny was established some hundred and fifty years before royalty gave you a patent. Your grandsire and your father were brave men."
He caught up his rosary. Should he put this aside? He was young; there were long years before him. He had suffered half the span of a man's life; need he suffer longer? He opened the letter and read it once again. "To Monsieur le Marquis de Périgny: A necromancer in the Rue Dauphin tells me that I shall not outlive you, which is to be regretted.
If I write an occasional ballade, it is for the mere pleasure of writing, and not because I seek notoriety such as Voiture enjoyed when in favor." "I like that ballade of yours on 'Henri at Cahors. It has the true martial ring to it that captivates the soldier." "Thanks, Monsieur; from a man like you such praise is poisonously sweet. Can you direct me to the Hotel de Périgny?
How many times during the past four years had his master asked this question, always to receive the same answer? The Chevalier's shoulders drooped. "Who brought it?" "Jehan," said the lackey. "Had he anything to say?" "Very little. Monsieur le Marquis has closed the chateau in Périgny and is living at the hôtel in Rochelle." "He mentions my name?" "No, Monsieur."
And Le Borgne, pale and trembling, took the red man's order for meat and water. "Ah, Captain," said Chaumonot, "it is good to see you again." "Major, Father; Major." "You have received your commission, then?" "Finally." "Congratulations! Will you direct me at once to the Hôtel de Périgny? I must see the marquis to-night, since we sail to-morrow."
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