Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

14 THE FALCONER’S SON. his person. I myself have gray hair; I have seen nothing, heard nothing, understood nothing.”’ ‘*You are an honest man!’’ the stranger impetuously ex- claimed. ‘‘MonDieu! I have nothing to gain by dissimu- lating with you. You have not deceived yourself, Maitre Guillaume, I am——’’ ‘‘More, perhaps, than I suppose,’’ the falconer hastened to add, ‘‘and thatis why I take the liberty to interrupt you, in order not to know more. Let you be Spaniard or Frenchman, you are none the less a traveler confided to my care. This roof protects you. if you are one of those who have drawn the sword against their king and their country, it is God’s privilege to judge you. Ido my duty; may you be able to say ‘I do mine.’ ”’ The pretended merchant lowered his eyes under the serene look of the artisan, and a blush passed over his forehead like a flash of lightning. But immediately regain- ing his serenity, he saluted the old falconer with his hand. ‘*So be it, my honest fellow, I will not charge your memory with a recollection; but, by the name of my father, I shall neither forget yours nor what you are doing. ”’ Two hours passed, and the stranger partook of the fal- coner’s dinner, making himself at home, asif under the tent of a soldier or in the dwelling ofa greatlord. Then two more hours passed; at the end of the fourth he showed a slightly perceptible uneasiness. He walked to the window and opened it, listening intently; night had come, and the road was undisturbed by any sound. Pres- ently he left the house and advanced to the garden gate. Pere Guillaume followed him. The silence was profound. ‘*Your son is brave?’’ the stranger brusquely said to the falconer. ‘*Honest and brave as steel.”’ ‘‘He will then defend a charge confided to his fidelity?’ ‘*He ig only a child, but he would brave death like a man,”’ ‘Then I fear for your son, Maitre Guillaume.”’ The father did not reply, but in the rays of the moon the stranger saw the pallor extending over his forehead. Both were silent, with eyes fixed upon the white line of the road which was lost in a vague and unlimited horizon. The mysteries of the night filled space with noises con- fused, rapid, and uncertain. Guillaume Grinedal leaned upon the garden palings; you could hear the wood crack- ing under the nervous grasp of his hands. Eomicbooks co m