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"Lord Abbot," said Sir Piercie, "this is nothing to the fate of my Molinara, whom I beseech you to observe, I will not abandon, while golden hilt and steel blade bide together on my falchion. I commanded her not to follow us to the field, and yet methought I saw her in her page's attire amongst the rear of the combatants."
Who cleared the letter-box? It was the page's business, but to remember any particular letter on any particular day was quite beyond him, and he only stared wildly and said, 'Dun no, on which he was dismissed to the lower regions. 'The address was "Francis Stebbing, Esq.," said Sir Jasper meditatively, perhaps like a spider pulling his cord. 'Francis -your son's name. Can he 'Mr.
"His breath is knocked out of him," said Miss Bording. "He saved my life. I cannot understand his strange devotion. I cannot understand it," said William Leadbury, the while opening the page's vest, tearing away his collar, and straining at his shirt, that the stunned lungs might have play and get to work again.
The detachment marched by very short stages; we had no commissary to control us; the captain was a mere lad, but a perfect gentleman, and a great christian; the ensign had but just left the page's hall at the court; the serjeant was a knowing blade, and a great conductor of companies from the place where they were raised to the port of embarkation.
The next time the page's head paused at her window, Maude summoned courage to ask him his name. "Bertram Lyngern," said he smilingly. "And a father and mother?" asked Maude. "A father," said the boy. "He is one of my Lord's knights; but for my mother, the women say she died the day I was born."
"To think that thus ends all that once was gallant talk of fighting under Talbot's banner," sighed Stephen, thoughtful for a moment. "However, there's a good deal to come first." "Yea, and what next?" said the elder brother. "On to uncle Hal. I ever looked most to him. He will purvey me to a page's place in some noble household, and get thee a clerk's or scholar's place in my Lord of York's house.
Among the few who bowed before Charles Edward's wife, in consideration of this last-named kingdom, was a brilliant, wayward young man, destined to remain a sort of brilliant, wayward, impracticable child until he was eighty; and destined, also, to cherish throughout the long lives of both, the sort of half genuine, half affected, boy's, or rather page's, passion with which Queen Louise had inspired him.
In the midst of it, the Lord of Ivarsdale looked around and found that Fridtjof the page was crying as though his heart would break. "How! Tears, my Beowulf!" he said in amazement. She was far beyond words, the girl in the page's dress; she could only bury her face deeper in her slender hands and try to control the sobs that shook her from head to foot.
The story repeated by most of Cavour's biographers, that in putting off the page's uniform he uttered some scornful words which, reported to Charles Albert, changed the goodwill of that prince into hostility, rests on doubtful authority; but it seems to be true that Charles Albert, who began by being very well disposed to the son and nephew of his friends, calling him in one letter "the interesting youth who justifies such great hopes," and in another, "ce charmant Camille," came to consider his quondam protégé a restless spirit, inconvenient in the present and possibly dangerous in the future.
The king returned softly to his room, took a roller of ducats, and slid them, with the letter, into the page's pocket; and then returning to his apartment, rung so violently, that the page came running breathlessly to know what had happened. "You have slept well," said the king.
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