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Updated: June 19, 2025
At sound of the latch, too, a girlish figure had started up from the lit-de-fouaille in the corner by the hearth the great square couch built out into the room and filled with dried bracken, the universal lounge in the Islands, and generally of a size large enough to accommodate the entire family. This was Carré's daughter, Rachel, Martel's wife. Her face was very comely.
He was a foreigner; he hated this island and its people, for the most part, and yet if he stood in Martel's place he would willingly change his life to correspond with hers. He would become Sicilian in body and soul. She had the power to dissolve his habits, his likes and dislikes, and reconstruct him through and through. "I hope you are right," she said at last.
Martel's claims were of secondary consideration. "We might let him try, grandfather," suggested Eleanor. "If he doesn't succeed, there would still be time for me to speak to the Captain." "But, my boy, where would you turn? What influence could you bring to bear?" "Well, you'd have to trust me about that," Quin said. "There are more ways than one of raising money, and if you'll leave it to me "
Do you think, when she finds out that I am actually on the stage, that she will ever forgive me that she will ever want me to come home again?" That was the moment when Quin should have delivered Madam's ultimatum; but, before he had the chance, a key was turned in the lock, and the next instant Claude Martel's effulgent presence filled the room.
Martel's voice rose shrilly in a curse, and then Norvin felt himself dragged roughly from his saddle, whether by human hands or by some overhanging tree-branch he never knew. The force of his fall bruised and stunned him, but he struggled weakly to his feet only to find himself in the grasp of a man whose black visage fronted his own.
When the three weeks were almost over, Quin was allowed to sit up, and even to walk on the porch. Miss Bartlett found him there one day when she arrived. "Aha!" she cried, "I've found you out, Sergeant Slim! You are Cass Martel's hero, and that's where you heard about me and found out my first name."
It seems that Martel had testified that he had witnessed the execution of a later will than that in which the property was left to your mother. You can easily see how unfortunate that might be if it could be proved. Andre has a suspicion that cross-examination might show Martel's testimony to be false." "It is too bad that the man is a prisoner," said Frank anxiously.
If you were a man you might have some chance for success, but you a girl, a gentlewoman!" "I am a Sicilian. I am rich, too. I have resources." She took him by the arm as she had done that first time when the thought of Martel's danger had roused her. "I told you no power could save them; no hiding-place could be so secret, no lies so cunning that I would not know. Well!
I am sure I could get him to lend it to me, only I would hate awfully to ask him." Mr. Martel's roving eyes came back to hers hopefully. "I wonder if you could?" he said, grasping at the proffered straw. "Perhaps if he understood that your career was at stake, that my disappointment would mean your disappointment, he would make some special effort to assist us. Will you go to him, child?
"There was an important point," says M. Fauriel, "in respect of which the position of Charles Martel's sons turned out to be pretty nearly the same as that of their father: it was touching the necessity of assigning to warriors a portion of the ecclesiastical revenues.
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