Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

144 DICE AND CARDS. delicate mission to discharge. At the first glance he per- ceived Monsieur de Villebrais seated upon a chair, his elbows supported upon a table, and his head between his hands, pale, mournful, and dejected. His sword was still upon the floor. Déroute made three steps forward, and, taking off his hat, gave a slight bow. ‘‘Monsieur de Villebrais?’’ said he. Monsieur de Villebrais trembled like a man violently drawn from a profound sleep. Heraised his head and recognized Déroute. ‘‘Oh!’’ said he, ‘‘it is a challenge you bring me?”’ ‘‘No, monsieur, it is an order.’’ ‘*An order!’’ | ‘‘And it is I whom the officers of the regiment have chosen for signifying it to you.”’ , ‘You! insolent fellow !’’ And Monsieur de Villebrais, in a fit of wild anger, erabbed his sword by the blade and raised the heavy guard over Déroute’s head; but Déroute, throwing himself back, took from his belt a pistol whose muzzle he turned toward Monsieur de Villebrais. ‘*Let us act fair, monsieur,’’ he said to him, with that good-natured air of his; ‘‘you are no longer my officer. I swear to you, then, that if you make a step forward, if you touch me, I shall blow out your brains.’’ Monsieur de Villebrais threw his sword against the wall of the room with so much violence that the blade was shivered to pieces. ‘‘Monsieur,’’ said the sergeant, replacing the pistol in his belt, ‘‘you are warned by the officers of the regiment in which you served as lieutenant, that if you have the audacity to present yourself to-morrow at the quarters or the parade, they will be constrained to punish you with the flat of their swords, in the presence of the whole army. Consequently you are requested to leave at once, unless it pleases you to submit to this treatment, and to be after- ward delivered to the provost, under the accusation of assassination. I have spoken.”’ Déroute picked up his hat and went out. Monsieur de Villebrais did not move. He was like aman struck by a thunderbolt. Thus the cup of humiliation and of shame had been emptied upon his head, even to the last drop. He remained silent for an hour, then stood up paler than a corpse and with lightning in his eyes. He pulled off his epaulettes and threw them away, cut with a knife the © . € ¢€ = gh x 7 “| 0) ) 1 ~ comicbooks.com —