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Updated: May 3, 2025
The remains of Bedford, the son, the brother and the uncle of kings, of that Bedford, who, according to Pommeraye, was interred to the left of the high altar, and whose tomb stone they now shew us, behind the altar, which tells us that he was interred on the right side of it?
La Pommeraye had to move with lightning swiftness to avoid a wound; and once, indeed, he felt a stinging sensation near his heart, and knew by the warmth at his side that blood was flowing. It would not do to trifle longer. As if a whirlwind had entered his arm, his weapon flashed hither and thither with such rapidity that Roberval forgot his hate, and thought only of keeping off the attack.
La Pommeraye laughed at the absurd superstition, and kept his eye fixed on the distant point of land with the column of smoke, which seemed to grow larger with each moment. But darkness soon fell upon the ocean, and the dim outline of the island at last faded from his view. Had he but known!
As to my fellows my master left the carrying out of the plot to me; and I thought it best to tell you first, before preparing them for the " "Slaughter! I see, good Etienne!" and La Pommeraye burst into a hearty laugh at the way De Roberval's servant had outwitted him. "Monsieur has an interview with the Sieur de Roberval to-morrow morning?" questioned the man. "Yes, most worthy Etienne."
So it came about, that at the end of September La Pommeraye found himself once more crossing the Sillon, with power to purchase a ship and start at once to bid Roberval return to France. His first proceeding was to seek out Cartier, and inform him of his successful mission.
The words were simple enough, but the tone told La Pommeraye that there was a world of meaning in them. If he could be ready with the sword he could be equally ready with the tongue. "Sieur de Roberval," he said, meeting the nobleman's eyes with a frank, straightforward gaze, "I am not dull-witted.
"Have you forgotten, or were you not present the other day when M. de Pontbriand was lamenting the death of his friend in Paris? You have surely heard him speak of him. I wept when I heard of his untimely end, for I have ever had fond recollections of Charles de la Pommeraye." "You, Marie? What can you mean? You never mentioned his name to me.
The first stone was laid in the month of november 1485, by Robert de Croixmare, archbishop of Rouen. It was nearly twenty two years in building, since the edifice according to Pommeraye, was only terminated in 1507. On the 29th of september 1500, this cardinal gave 4,000 livres, to be used in the casting of a bell; wishing, that it might be the finest in the kingdom.
No vessel could anchor in this storm, even if we did reach yon island; and unless the gale lessens, we must sooner or later be swamped." There was nothing else for it, and La Pommeraye unwillingly consented. The little craft was with difficulty brought about.
La Pommeraye would fain have gone with him, but even though he thought Marguerite safe in France, he could not bring himself to stay away from where she was an hour longer than he could help.
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