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Updated: June 20, 2025
Peyrolles hurriedly beckoned Cocardasse and Passepoil apart, and could be seen at a little distance transferring money from his pocket to their palms, giving them instructions, and finally dismissing them. Chavernay looked at Gonzague. "I congratulate you on your new friends." Gonzague shook his head. "Judge no man by his habit. Hearts of gold may beat beneath those tatters." Chavernay smiled.
There was a short struggle, and then Cocardasse flung the dead body of Peyrolles at the feet of Lagardere. Lagardere bent over him and spoke his epitaph: "The last of the lackeys. Now for the master." Paris lay quiet enough between the midnight and the dawn.
I wish you well." Flora was now sobbing bitterly, and seemed unable to rise. Peyrolles hastened to her side, hastened to lift her to her feet, and hurriedly conducted the weeping girl from the room. The princess, holding her head high, turned and addressed the king: "Your majesty, my mourning ends to-day. I have recovered my daughter. I shall be your guest to-night, sire."
Navailles pointed to a group in an adjacent arbor. "Cidalise, yonder, is wearing a rose-colored domino. She will do anything for me." "Bring her," Peyrolles said, in a tone of command which he sometimes assumed when he was on his master's business, and which no one of his master's friends ever took it upon himself to resent.
He sighed and said, "You shall have the money." Cocardasse nodded approvingly. He was enjoying himself immensely in this baiting of the valet of Gonzague, but he allowed no sign of entertainment to ripple over his crimson countenance. "Good," he said, quietly, "but I take it that you have not got such a sum as three thousand pistoles about you." Peyrolles shook his head.
This lantern the girl set upon the head of an empty barrel that stood in a corner, and its fitful, shivering rays, faintly illuminating the murkiness around, was at least strong enough to allow any philosopher among the bravos and Æsop was in his way a philosopher to observe and moralize upon the contrast between the appearance of this Monsieur Peyrolles who employed bravos and the bravos that this Monsieur Peyrolles employed.
He was, therefore, quite prepared to be Saldagno for the occasion, and it was with a well-affected Lusitanian accent that he promptly answered, "Present," and came a little nearer to the strangers. The first shadow spoke again, craning a long neck into the darkness. "It is I, Monsieur Peyrolles. Come here."
I have long been looking for you." Flora could scarcely find breath to stammer: "For me?" She ventured to look up into the face of this grave and courtly gentleman, and she found something very attractive in the dark eyes that were fixed upon her with a look of so much benevolence. Gonzague pointed to Peyrolles, who was standing a little apart from the group of gentlemen.
Then, pointing with an air of introduction to the fantastic, many-colored, huge-hatted, big-booted gang of ruffians ranged about the table, he added, "My children." In the dim light Peyrolles peered derisively at the different members of the party. "They seem a choice set of ruffians," he observed, with the labored impertinence that seemed to him a copy of his master's nonchalance.
He turned to Peyrolles, who was standing close to his master's side, and commanded: "Bring in Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Nevers." In a moment Peyrolles had vanished from the room, leaving every man in the assembly impressed and startled by Gonzague's statement.
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