D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 318: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXXIX. THE TRUE KING. “A cheat! a strategem!” growled Don Jorge, following the disappearing host; “that Gannarta I always suspected as deep—but that other, bluff and honest—a trickster! I believe in nothing now! Swords are toys when battles are fought with pens and masks and bags of gold!” ‘The walls and their towers were covered with whoop- ing men, glad faces, tossing arms with weapons sheathed ; banners, women’s kerchiefs, a kaleidoscopic vision of all colors in all shapes. If cannon and musketry commingled their dread din, it was harmlessly. Spanish and Portu- guese hugged frantically, and the publicans, who had been reserved for a time, opened their doors widely and rolled casks into the thoroughfares for everybody to drink the king’s health. Count Marianda drearily moved among the carousers, as if his sword was broken in its case. Trumpets sounded merrily, drums were beaten lively, and the monks perambulated the streets in long files, with the churches’ choicest regalia, vociferating: “There is a king come to Israel!” “Why, the church has gone over!” said the one Abdiel in the flood of apostates. “I am descended from the Roman—I will run upon my sword!” “Hold!” It was Porthos who laid his heavy hand on his sound arm. “Not on that sword, please! it is mine— you are my prisoner, and, as such, your good blade is mine!” Thus he was conducted upon the palace square. On the partially thrown down walls, converted into a stage, gonfalon poles had been fixed by the Brothers of the Coast, and rigged so that they upheld a vast awning; most of the material was scarlet and gold. With the taste suitable to a bright sun, the decorations turned the plaza into a kind of open-air reception and coronation hall. If there had been any color wanted, it was supplied by the (CONNIE KOOKS (€(0) im