D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 231: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXIX. A TALK OVER SWORD BLADES. Whatever the gentleman’s intention in quitting his residence under Porthos’ eyes, whether an amorous or a sterner one, all was changed in him on coming out by a short cut, into Carmel Church Plaza. For he singled out, by her form, carriage and distinguished manner, the woman in the peasant’s frock and mantle whom D’Artag- nan had most surely recognized as the bosom friend of the Duchess of Braganza. “It is Jacinta,’ muttered the Lisbonese, in as much surprise as anger. “She has returned to disgrace her family. It is her step! her grace! and her features as far as I could catch a glimpse of them. The unhappy girl! for her disloyalty and active stirring up of turbulence, she has been shut out by Church and State! She is the rowel of that spur, Braganza! It is well her poor mother is no more, or this stigma would kill her! It is well that our sire is no more, or he would kill her. I am heir to his sword, yet I cannot slay my own sister. The good nuns of Carmel shall take her into keeping, spite of the outlawry !” Meanwhile, Jacinta had wrapped her head in the reboza, like a sultana taking the air at the Sweet Waters of the Bosphorus. “Chevalier,” whispered she to her champion, “‘it is of is tt est importance that he should not know who I am !” “Rest easy! he will not learn anything through me,” was D’Artagnan’s reply, whose sword traced a circle for the inquiring gentleman to check his advance. The latter thereupon drew his long sword, evidently sharpened and pointed for war, and his conduct de- noted that he was a military officer, with a previous ap- pointment rather with Bellona than the Goddess of Love. “Pardon me, Sir of Lisbon, but is it the custom of the city to quiz strangers as you take the liberty of doing?” Eomicbooks.com