The Argosy, March 1907 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

“Already you have talked too cael, nor will I answer you further,” said he coldly “And mademoaiselle? If she is in- deed here, surely I may see her?” In- wood persisted. The Frenchman shrugged his shoul- ders. “That lies with will be informed of your request,” answered. Inwood watched him as he crossed the room and parted the curtains which con- ceated the déor. He would have arisen, though conscious of his unusual weak- ness, but to get up must be to dress, and he saw nothing with which to accomplish such a task. He lay back upon the pillows, gazing up at the paneled ceiling and listening for the footsteps which would announce the coming of the one person who in all mademoiselle; she he ’ France he most desired to see. - After a time he fell into a troubled “doze, and when, scarcely conscious that he had slept, he opened his eyes sudden- ty, it was the litthke man in black who stood by the bedside. “Ah, monsiteur,’ said he softly, “ it is the magnificent physique to which we owe everything; yet from the first I did not despair, and it was that I told mademoiselle.” “And mademoiselle? She is not here,” demanded Inwood impatiently. The surgeon made a little gesture sig- nifying much or nothing. ‘To-morrow; we must not move too fast. Jon Dieu! Must everything in France gallop like a race-horse? ”’ ‘But you will tell me z “Nothing to-day. To-morrow you may be satisfied. Patience, monsteur; a day longer will amount to nothing.” For a brief moment he laid cool fin- gers upon the American’s pulse, nodded with satisfaction, ahd motioned toward the little stand at the head of the bed. “If monsieur desires anything, he has but to ring and some one will present himself,” said he briefly. “But I desire to get up; you can real- ize, monsieur, that I am tired of ly- zs Perhaps to-morrow. ble’ It is the same with every one—from the emperor in the Tuileries to the gam- THE. EAGLE OF EMPIRE. Nom du dia- ins in the Ouartier Latin—impatience, galloping, pushing, ever pushing. But you, monsieur, must needs curb your rest- lessness until to-morrow.” CHAPTER VIL. THE ROLL OF THE DRUM. Bur it was not the next day, nor the next, that, restless as a caged beast, In- wood saw or heard anything of mademoi- selle. On the third day something happened, but it was not the coming of the French girl he had last seen looking down at him from the back of her horse upon the bank of the river near the inn beyond Cannes. It had been forced upon him that he was virtually a prisoner, for, having made an examination of the room, he discovered the door was always fastened except when it opened to admit the sol- emn servant who attended to his wants. From the windows, high up, he could look down upon a broad avenue through which vehicles, pedestrians, and_ sol- diers were constantly passing. To summon strangers to him or to break down the door would have been possi- ble, but he saw no pressing reason for such drastic action. He had been told that he might ex- pect mademoiselle, and, although he was puzzled at her non-appearance and chafed under the enforced confinement and idleness, he felt in honor bound to await her coming. That Napoleon had reached Paris, and regained his own, he understood; the little surgeon had spoken of the emperor at the Tuileries. But whether he had won out by battle and bloodshed or peaceably Inwood had not learned, yet he remembered what the giant chas- seur had said: that beneath the tunic of every soldier in France was hidden the tricolor. So for two long days he curbed his -impatience, resolved as each hour ended to wait no longer, but each time holding back, thinking the next might bring mademotselle. And on the third day, when patience ceased to be a virtue and the resolve to leave the house dominated all other feeling, his imprisonment was interrupted. Comicboo SECO fe" > te Jie Re 1, ké