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The War of Women. Volume 1
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"That's what I meant; but from habit I used the other expression."
"Monsieur prefers to say 'the Scriptures.' Is monsieur a Huguenot?"
"Yes, but a very ignorant Huguenot. Would you believe that I know hardly three thousand verses of the Psalms?"
"Indeed, it is very little."
"I succeeded better in remembering the music. There has been much hanging and burning in my family."
"I hope that no such fate is in store for monsieur."
"No, there is a much more tolerant spirit to-day; they will submerge me probably, nothing more."
Barrabas began to laugh.
Canolles' heart leaped for joy; he had won over his keeper. If this jailer ad interim should become his permanent jailer, he stood a fair chance to obtain the oil; he determined, therefore, to take up the conversation where he had left it.
"Monsieur Barrabas," said he, "are we destined to be soon separated, or shall you do me the honor to continue to bear me company?"
"Monsieur, when we arrive at Île Saint-Georges, I shall be obliged, I deeply regret to say, to leave you; I must return to our company."
"Indeed; do you belong to a company of archers?"
"No, monsieur, to a company of soldiers."
"Levied by the minister?"
"No, monsieur, by Captain Cauvignac, the same man who had the honor of arresting you."
"Are you in the king's service?"
"I think so, monsieur."
"What the devil do you mean by that? Are you not sure?"
"One is sure of nothing in this world."
"Well, if you are in doubt there is one thing that you should do, in order to set your doubts at rest."
"What is that?"
"Let me go."
"Impossible, monsieur."
"But I will pay you handsomely for your kindness."
"With what?"
"Pardieu! with money,"
"Monsieur has none."
"I have no money?"
"No."
Canolles hastily felt in his pockets.
"Upon my word, my purse has disappeared," he said. "Who has taken my purse?"
"I, monsieur," replied Barrabas with a low bow.
"Why did you do it?"
"So that monsieur could not corrupt me."
Canolles stared at the honest keeper in open-mouthed admiration, and as the argument seemed to admit of no reply, he made none.
The result was that the travellers relapsed into silence, and the journey, as it drew near its close, resumed the depressing characteristics which marked its beginning.
IX
Day was breaking when the clumsy vehicle reached the village nearest to its island destination. Canolles, feeling that it had ceased to move, passed his head through the little loophole intended to furnish air to those who were free, and conveniently arranged to shut it off from prisoners.
A pretty little village, consisting of some hundred houses grouped about a church on a hillside, and overlooked by a château, was sharply outlined in the clear morning air, gilded by the first rays of the sun, which put to flight the thin, gauzy patches of vapor.
Just then the wagon started on up the incline, and the coachman left the box and walked beside the vehicle.
"My friend," said Canolles, "are you of this province?"
"Yes, monsieur, I am from Libourne."
"In that case you should know this village. What is yonder white house, and those pretty cottages?"
"The château, monsieur," was the reply, "is the manor house of Cambes, and the village is one of its dependencies."
Canolles started back, and his face instantly changed from the deepest red to deathly white.
"Monsieur," interposed Barrabas, whose round eye nothing escaped, "did you hurt yourself against the window?"
"No – thanks," said Canolles, and continued his examination of the peasant. "To whom does the property belong?" he asked.
"The Vicomtesse de Cambes."
"A young widow?"
"Very beautiful and very rich."
"Monsieur prefers to say 'the Scriptures.' Is monsieur a Huguenot?"
"Yes, but a very ignorant Huguenot. Would you believe that I know hardly three thousand verses of the Psalms?"
"Indeed, it is very little."
"I succeeded better in remembering the music. There has been much hanging and burning in my family."
"I hope that no such fate is in store for monsieur."
"No, there is a much more tolerant spirit to-day; they will submerge me probably, nothing more."
Barrabas began to laugh.
Canolles' heart leaped for joy; he had won over his keeper. If this jailer ad interim should become his permanent jailer, he stood a fair chance to obtain the oil; he determined, therefore, to take up the conversation where he had left it.
"Monsieur Barrabas," said he, "are we destined to be soon separated, or shall you do me the honor to continue to bear me company?"
"Monsieur, when we arrive at Île Saint-Georges, I shall be obliged, I deeply regret to say, to leave you; I must return to our company."
"Indeed; do you belong to a company of archers?"
"No, monsieur, to a company of soldiers."
"Levied by the minister?"
"No, monsieur, by Captain Cauvignac, the same man who had the honor of arresting you."
"Are you in the king's service?"
"I think so, monsieur."
"What the devil do you mean by that? Are you not sure?"
"One is sure of nothing in this world."
"Well, if you are in doubt there is one thing that you should do, in order to set your doubts at rest."
"What is that?"
"Let me go."
"Impossible, monsieur."
"But I will pay you handsomely for your kindness."
"With what?"
"Pardieu! with money,"
"Monsieur has none."
"I have no money?"
"No."
Canolles hastily felt in his pockets.
"Upon my word, my purse has disappeared," he said. "Who has taken my purse?"
"I, monsieur," replied Barrabas with a low bow.
"Why did you do it?"
"So that monsieur could not corrupt me."
Canolles stared at the honest keeper in open-mouthed admiration, and as the argument seemed to admit of no reply, he made none.
The result was that the travellers relapsed into silence, and the journey, as it drew near its close, resumed the depressing characteristics which marked its beginning.
IX
Day was breaking when the clumsy vehicle reached the village nearest to its island destination. Canolles, feeling that it had ceased to move, passed his head through the little loophole intended to furnish air to those who were free, and conveniently arranged to shut it off from prisoners.
A pretty little village, consisting of some hundred houses grouped about a church on a hillside, and overlooked by a château, was sharply outlined in the clear morning air, gilded by the first rays of the sun, which put to flight the thin, gauzy patches of vapor.
Just then the wagon started on up the incline, and the coachman left the box and walked beside the vehicle.
"My friend," said Canolles, "are you of this province?"
"Yes, monsieur, I am from Libourne."
"In that case you should know this village. What is yonder white house, and those pretty cottages?"
"The château, monsieur," was the reply, "is the manor house of Cambes, and the village is one of its dependencies."
Canolles started back, and his face instantly changed from the deepest red to deathly white.
"Monsieur," interposed Barrabas, whose round eye nothing escaped, "did you hurt yourself against the window?"
"No – thanks," said Canolles, and continued his examination of the peasant. "To whom does the property belong?" he asked.
"The Vicomtesse de Cambes."
"A young widow?"
"Very beautiful and very rich."
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Классная книга. Очень многое объясняет, что скрытое реально происходит в человеке