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Updated: June 5, 2025
You may be sure we thought none the less of him after that; but all this was nothing to what was coming. "Well, De Malet had been with us about a year when the railway was begun from Algiers to Blidah, and the directing engineer happened to be one of my greatest friends, Eugène Latour, as good a fellow as I ever met.
Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the gay Bella Latour.
So he faced the crowd upon the stairs which, after one yell of triumph, had fallen silent. This man had always been feared. No one knew his power for certain. He was feared now as he stood, calm and erect, in the doorway. "What do you want, citizens, with Raymond Latour?"
She is the most remarkable of all the instances of that unreasoning passion which the New Heloïsa inflamed in the breasts of the women of that age. Madame Latour pursued Jean Jacques with a devotion that no coldness could repulse. She only saw him three times in all, the first time not until 1766, when he was on his way through Paris to England.
I want to see that everything is prepared." The old woman fumbled in her pocket and gave him the key without a word. "She comes to-morrow," said Latour. "You will not fail to do as I have asked and look after her well." "Never fear; she shall be a pretty bird in a pretty cage." Latour paused as he reached the door. "She is a dear friend, no more nor less than that, and this is a nest, not a cage.
I listened at the open door with breathless interest as the old fellow discussed the affair with young Lady Casterton, who sat next him, while around the table various theories were advanced. "I met the man Latour once one day in the summer," exclaimed Mr. Molesworth, a tall, thin-faced man, rector of a neighbouring parish.
Ever after, at the parades of his battalion, the name of Latour d'Auvergne was first called, when the oldest sergeant stepped to the front and answered, "Died on the field of honor."
For an hour he talked with two friends of his who were in charge of this prison of the Abbaye, laughed and rejoiced with them at the arrest of such an important emigré that day; and then, at their prophecy that she would not be long in their keeping, that the tribunal would see to it that she went speedily upon her last journey to the Place de la Revolution, Latour ventured a protest the first move in his scheme.
"I hear it said that a woman is at the bottom of it all," I remarked. "Of course we can't say, sir," he replied; "but a little while ago Mr. Latour was seen several times by men working in the fields to meet, down at Alconbury Brook, a rather handsome, dark young lady, and walk with her." Was that lady Clotilde? I wondered.
"But indeed, Sir Claude Latour, it is a great wonder to me that you did not yourself lead these bowmen, for surely they could have found no better leader?" "None, none, by the Virgin of L'Esparre!" he cried, speaking in the strange, thick Gascon speech which turns every v into a b. "But you know what these islanders of yours are, Sir Nigel.
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