Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 299: what you’re looking at

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

a * € THE BEGGAR. 283 When they succeeded in leaving the court Monsieur de Charny was white and Bouletord purple with fury. The one was mute and threatening; the other hurled forth a thousand imprecations. ‘*To horse!’’ howled Bouletord to the first archers whom he met. All ran toward the Rue St. Maur, where the stable was. As they rushed forward, Bouletord at their head, Monsieur de Charny perceived Monsieur de Pomereux, who came galloping up to the scene of the fire. ‘‘What the devil is taking place here,’’ the gentleman asked the favorite. ‘‘Nothing much; your fiancee is being carried off.’’ ‘*Madame d’Albergotti?’’ ‘Faith, yes. She is riding behind Belle-Rose. You have been tricked, Monsieur le Comte.’’ Monsieur de Pomereux had, as the reader has seen, a good share of vanity; the thought that he had been placed in a ridiculous position caused him to blush. ‘*Ah! they have gone!’’ said he. ‘The poor widow has set fire to the convent to light up her second wedding,’’ said Monsieur de Charny, laughing. Monsieur de Pomereux thought of the courtiers who were going to laugh at his adventure, and, if he was not a man to fear a cannon-ball, he was horribly afraid of ridicule. ‘‘What road have they taken, do you know?”’’ he said cutting his horse’s flanks with his whip. -“That will be easy to find out,’’ replied Monsieur de Charny, delighted to see Monsieur de Pomereux wrought up to the point to which he wished to bring him. Some of the crowd being questioned, answered that they had seen a troop of four cavaliers galloping in the direc- tion of the quays. Upon a sign from Monsieur de Pomer- eux, one of the lackeys offered his horse to Monsieur de Charny, and they set out in pursuit of the fugitives. But if was necessary to stop at every street corner to question the passers, and this took up a considerable time. Meanwhile Bouletora and his comrades, having reached the stable in the Rue St. Maur, prepared to mount their horses; but as they set feet in the stirrups, all fell upon the straw, drawing the saddles with them. The girths were cut. Bouletord swore like a pagan. Before other girths were found and adjusted, ten minutes had been consumed. Finally they started, but at the first effort the s bridles broke near the curbs, and there was another halt. GOMmIGcoDoo S (C(O) =)