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Updated: June 23, 2025
In no other way could Basterga explain his dupe's inaction. And presently, when he had almost brought himself to accept the former conclusion, on an evening something more than a week later, a thing happened that added sharpness to his anxiety. He was crossing the bridge from the Quarter of St.
"Your taste is rather for other things," Basterga continued, affecting to misunderstand the act. "This illuminated manuscript, now, may interest you? It is in characters which are probably strange to you?" "Is it Hebrew?" the Syndic muttered stiffly, his temper still asserting itself.
They fancied that he would not return to the city, or venture his head a second time within the lion's jaws. But they reckoned without their man, Basterga with all his faults was brave; and he had failed in too many schemes to resign this one lightly. "Si fractus illabatur orbis Impavidum ferient ruinæ," he murmured; and he had ventured, he had passed the gates, he was here.
His eyes scrutinised her and searched the room by turns. She nodded, unable to speak. "There is no one in the house with you?" "Only my mother," she murmured. "She is bedridden, is she not? She cannot hear us?" he added, frowning. "No, but I am expecting the others to return." "Messer Basterga?" "Yes." "He will not return before morning," the Syndic replied with decision, "nor his companion.
Years you told me! And a fortune!" "I told you? Never!" Basterga opened his eyes in seeming amazement. "Never, good sir, in all my life!" he repeated emphatically. "But" returning grimly to his former point "ten gold pieces, or a fortune no matter which, she shall pay dearly for it, the thieving jade!"
Or rather it would have been done if turning to see that the way was clear behind him, Louis had not discovered a second watcher, who from a spot on the edge of the island was marking his movements with grim attention. This watcher was Basterga. Moreover the glance which apprised Louis of this showed him that the scholar's face was as black as thunder.
A scholar? No, I tell you, there was never alchemist yet could transmute but one thing poor into rich, rich into poor!" "But," Grio murmured with a look and in a voice of disappointment, "is not that the true transmutation which a thousand have died seeking, and one here and there, it is rumoured, has found? From lead to gold, Messer Basterga?"
"Fool!" the scholar cried, towering above the baffled, shrinking man whose attempt had placed him at his mercy. "Think you that Cæsar Basterga was born to perish by your hand? That the gods made me what I am, I who carry to-night the fortunes of a nation and the fate of a king, that I might fall by so pitiful a creature as you! Ay, 'tis the alarm-bell, you are right.
The box had an appearance of strength out of proportion to its size; and was furnished with two locks, protected and partly hidden by tiny shields. Basterga handling it gently polished it awhile with a cloth, then bearing it to the inner end of the room he set it on a bracket beside the hearth.
But you see, Messer Blondel, this affair is not quite where it was yesterday, or we should not have come to you to-day. The King of France I am sure we are much indebted to him does not write on light occasions, and his warning is explicit. From Paris, then, we get the same story as from Turin. And this being so, and the King's tale agreeing with our agent's " "He does not mention Basterga!"
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