D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 194: what you’re looking at

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

The Grip of Porthes. 1S canvas screen, which was drawn aside, and, stooping, though an ordinary man could easily have passed under, Porthos smilingly entered the reserved compartment. ‘Have no care, my lord,” said he, mistaking the hor- ror as a doubt that his intervention had succeeded. “I watrant his neck is broken! It is an old wrestling trick of the lads of the Morbinan.” “The Chevalier du Vallon?” “Odzookers! went on he, “I had to do some act to prove | was not unworthy of being made a grandee!” The duchess bent over and would have taken his hand, but the duke grasped it. Porthos saw a tear drop, and he did not believe the man lost it. “No, thanks, my lady, or I shall be indebted to you, and will have to throttle the first boor who looks at your ladyship askew, to vent my regret at causing you a stir!” “The duke! the duke!’’ was the clamor at the door. They rushed thither over the corpse. “There were Spanish vessels, but they have fled; there were Spanish troops, but they are in full retreat!” said D’Artagnan. Braganza stared like a clown at a market fair at the prodigious naval display. Never had he seen so many sail together; the concourse at San Andero was ridicu- lous beside this. What banner was this, too? Never had he seen, so numerously flaunting in the broad day, the ancient emblem of his forefathers. | Ecstasy was tempered with perplexity. “What is this I see?’ stammered he. “A fleet of honor to escort your grace to Oporto, where the authorities ‘will have been notified that the king is due,” said Pedro, in a clear, deep voice. Braganza looked inquiringly at the musketeer. “This is Captain Pedro, commanding the Brothers of the Coast, and the sail you behold are but a portion of the forces he has at his whistle-call.” “All at your service to free Portugal,’ went on the free-sailor. “They of the long and African voyages will meet tus at Oporto or Lisbon, later.” “You mistake, chevalier,’ said the enraptured prince. “This is not a captain of rovers, without a flag, but my CORNICE OOO S (C(O) im