Belle-Rose — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

-\ ‘THE FALCONER'S SON. 15 _ “Nothing, nothing yot,”’ the stranger murmured. ‘‘Oh! I would give a thousand louis to hear the gallop of a horse.’’ As he spoke adetonation sounded in the distance, be- — yond the woods whose thick shadows divided the horizon. The falconer overturned the palings and leaped into the road. ~ **A gun-shot! Did you hear it?’’ exclaimed the gentle- man. ‘*T heard it,’’ replied Guillaume Grinedal, who threw himself in the road, flat upon the stomach. Two more detonations again broke the silence, but the sounds came from so far away that the ear of a father or an outlaw was necessary to distinguish them from the — thousand noises which floated under the profound sky. Guillaume Grinedal was listening with ear pressed to the ground. ““Well?”’ said the gentleman. ‘‘Nothing, nothing yet! My heart throbs and my ears tingle,’’ said the poor father. ‘‘Ah! yes, now a muffled and continuous noise! He approaches—it is the gallop of a horse. ”’ ‘‘Oh! the brave young fellow!’’ exclaimed the stranger, explosively. Guillaume Grinedal said nothing, but uncovering his forehead, whitened by years, he raised his eyes to heaven and prayed. The gentleman was looking into space, his head inclined forward. You would have said that his sparkling eyes wished to pierce the shadowy transparence of the night. ‘‘T see him, mordieu! Isee him. The horse has wings, and the child is astride him.”’ The gentleman seized the falconer’s arm. “Do you not recognize him?’’ said he. But the falconer was thanking God; two great tears trembled on the border of his eyelids, and his. quivering lips murmured a prayor of gratitude. The stranger with- drew his hand, and filled with a religious emotion, raised his hat. A few bounds brought the horse to them. The child leaped to the ground and fell into the arms of the falconer. ‘*My father!’’ he exclaimed. The father silently pressed him to his heart. | “But,’’ said Guillaume Grinedal, suddenly, ‘‘there is blood on your clothes. Are you wounded?” : ‘‘It is nothing,’’ replied Jacques; ‘‘a ball has torn my GOMIGEHDOOKS: co