"
"And now, my dear Louis, I leave you," broke in Charles, who had
rather impatiently awaited the end of these formalities. "A brief
half-hour and I am with you again. You will stay here till I
return."
He turned, nodded gaily to Desiree and ran downstairs.
Through the open windows they heard his quick, light footfall as he
hurried up the Frauengasse. Something made them silent, listening
to it.
It was not difficult to see that D'Arragon was a sailor. Not only
had he the brown face of those who live in the open, but he had the
attentive air of one whose waking moments are a watch.
"You look at one as if one were the horizon," Desiree said to him
long afterwards. But it was at this moment in the drawing-room in
the Frauengasse that the comparison formed itself in her mind.
His face was rather narrow, with a square chin and straight lips.
He was not quick in speech like Charles, but seemed to think before
he spoke, with the result that he often appeared to be about to say
something, and was interrupted before the words had been uttered.
"Unless my memory is a bad one, your mother was an Englishwoman,
monsieur," said Sebastian, "which would account for your being in
the English service."
"Not entirely," answered d'Arragon, "though my mother was indeed
English and died--in a French prison. But it was from a sense of
gratitude that my father placed me in the English service--and I
have never regretted it, monsieur.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36