Penny Dreadfuls, 1889 · page 47 of 216
The American Marquis by Nick Carter — page 47: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1889. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
7 1K: oh ie Pay ROG PAD i) ea cd sia ie sua Has pu tes A aunt ik a ‘ fi z R an AL ( *% wo. 4 ~ By q et - » Miats f € ’ ean eed : es “~ eu : an] Arad ft cn A] v “2 : Dikeh echil at ay My oe es te ih a : i? 7 ' ° o's reg R i : ¥ tl f ee . 5 Cel 4 4 hy od % py 8 Aa Ay tr a aes | ( ae. . pie te Sie ie Gir? j 3 THE AMERICAN MARQUIS. gah ae ‘¢Come,” said Gorinot. ‘** Let’s escape.” They walked into the reading-room of the hotel in which the scene had taken place. ‘Now, marquis,” went on Gorinot, in his volatile way, ‘vou see how it is. You'd better surrender gracefully, — We’ re used to titles at_ our house, and won’t persecute | ou.” : «“ Not to make it quite a surrender,” answered the mar- quis, pleasantly, ‘‘let me say that I accept with pleasure. ” ‘<That’s right; and when I meet you in Paris you ‘can show me the lions there.” ‘‘T'm afraid you know them better than I do.” ote —*€ Well, then, Pll show them to you.” | hs That evening a carriage drove up to a stately mansion on Madison avenue, and the marquis got out. cali ‘““Ah, marquis, you did not play me false, then. And well for me that you did not, for the ladies are crazy to have a new man to talk French with. hey are tired of me.” Gorinot led the marquis into the drawing-room. © Marquis d’Iberri, my aunt, Mrs. Howard, my sister, Miss Howard. Eh! Why, marquis, are you ill?” ‘No, no, a mere trifle—a spasm—quite gone now.” Gone it did seem to be, but a trifle it surely wag not, for the marquis was not the man to’ change color to a ghastly white, put his hand on his heart, and moan for a trifle. Gone like a flash it was, and the marquis was his cool, dignified self in an instant. ‘*Pardon me, ladies. Put it down to my pleasure in meeting ladies with whom I can exchange thoughts in my own language.” “Oh, Heaven!” he was saying to himself, ‘‘why was I led here? Why have I seen that face again’ 2 What face? -. Was it that of Grace Howard? If so, why should a face like hers make him turn pale? A fairer face never was looked upon. A little of melancholy in it, much womanly sweetness, much maidenly archness. Much that was tender, much that was honest and true. Ravishing beauty, bewitching grace. Limpid, soulful blue eyes, moist, tempting, phere lips. comicbooks.com —