He stood facing the door,
alert and quiet, with only a moment in which to shape the course of
more than one life.
"There is good news, Monsieur," he said to Sebastian. "Though I did
not come to bring it."
Sebastian pointed interrogatively to the open window, where the
sound of the bells seemed to emphasize the sunlight and the
freshness of the morning.
"No--not that," returned D'Arragon. "It is a great victory, they
tell me; but it is hard to say whether such news would be good or
bad. It was of Charles that I spoke. He is safe--Madame has
heard."
He spoke rather slowly, and turned towards Desiree with a measured
gesture, not unlike Sebastian's habitual manner, and a quick glance
to satisfy himself that she had understood and was ready.
"Yes," said Desiree, "he was safe and well after the battle, but he
gives no details; for the letter was actually written the day
before."
"With a mere word, added in postscriptum, to say that he was unhurt
at the end of the day," suggested Sebastian, already drawing forward
a chair with a gesture full of hospitality, inviting D'Arragon to be
seated at the simple breakfast-table. But D'Arragon was looking at
Mathilde, who had gone rather hurriedly to the window, as if to
breathe the air. He had caught a glimpse of her face as she passed.
It was hard and set, quite colourless, with bright, sleepless eyes.
D'Arragon was a sailor. He had seen that look in rougher faces and
sterner eyes, and knew what it meant.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133