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Part III | Baroness Emmuska Orczy | |
XLV The Forest Of Boulogne |
Page 2 of 4 |
The rain still fell in a thin drizzle that soaked through caps and coats, made the bridles slimy and the saddles slippery and damp. A veil of vapour hung over the horses' cruppers, and was rendered fuller and thicker every moment with the breath that came from their nostrils. The wind no longer blew with gusty fury--its strength seemed to have been spent with the grey light of day-- but now and then it would still come sweeping across the open country, and dash itself upon the wall of forest trees, lashing against the horses' ears, catching the corner of a mantle here, an ill-adjusted cap there, and wreaking its mischievous freak for a while, then with a sigh of satisfaction die, murmuring among the pines. Suddenly there was a halt, much shouting, a volley of oaths from the drivers, and citizen Chauvelin thrust his head out of the carriage window. "What is it?" he asked. "The scouts, citizen," replied the sergeant, who had been riding close to the coach door all this while; "they have returned." "Tell one man to come straight to me and report." Marguerite sat quite still. Indeed, she had almost ceased to live momentarily, for her spirit was absent from her body, which felt neither fatigue, nor cold, nor pain. But she heard the snorting of the horse close by as its rider pulled him up sharply beside the carriage door. "Well?" said Chauvelin curtly. "This is the cross-road, citizen," replied the man; "it strikes straight into the wood, and the hamlet of Le Crocq lies down in the valley on the right." "Did you follow the road in the wood?" |
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El Dorado Baroness Emmuska Orczy |
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