Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

58 | THE DROPS IN THE CUP. from me forever, you are still dear and sacred to me. Now farewell; you are the Marquise d’Albergotti.”’ ‘‘The name does not change the heart,’’ said Suzanne. ‘If you had died on account of me, 1 should have killed myself.’ Jacques seized her hand, but just as he was carrying it to his lips with a convulsive ardor, Guillaume Grinedal stopped him. ‘‘Madame d’Albergotti,’’ said he, ‘‘your husband is ex- pecting you.”’ The two lovers trembled from head to foot; their joined hands separated. The voice of Guillaume had awakened Suzanne as if fromadream. Foran hour the lover had triumphed over the wife; it was now the wife’s turn to triumph over the lover. Suzanne raised her forehead, over which passed a sudden blush. ‘*Farewell!’’ said she to Jacques. ‘‘You do not lose me entirely, the friend remains to you.”’ Jacques dia not reply, and Suzanne went away on Clau- dine’s arm. When they were alone, Jacques and Guillaume embraced each other. Jacques passed the night under the falconer’s roof, but at daybreak he left. Once more he received the paternal benedistion upon the threshold of that door where, three years before, he had knelt down full of joy and hope, and which he now quitted full of bitterness and discourage- ment. Jacques did not take the route to Laon; like all wounded hearts he had need of affection; he thought of Monsieur d’Assonville and directed his course toward Arras, where the captain of light-horse was then garri- soned. A secret instinct told him that Monsieur d’Asson- ville was suffering like him, and that therefore he loved without hope. The sergeant found the young officer ina salon badly lighted by a slender ray filtered between thick curtains. Monsieur d’Assonville was walking in this large room, where the noise of his steps was stifled by a carpet. He was still the same handsome young man, whose intelligent head had an air of gentleness and pride which was charming. Only his look seemed sadder still, and the transparent pallor of his face was marbled by bluish tints under the eyelids. On seeing the soldier, Monsieur d’Assonville smiled. ‘*Welcome,’’ he said to him. ‘‘Do you bring us this time sappers or cannoneers?”’ ‘*No, captain, I come alone.”’ ‘‘Alone! And what do you come for?”’ (E(0) micboo Ss (eo)