Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

10 THE FALCONER’S SON. when he was master of falconry at Monsieur d’Asson- ville’s, and which would have brought him in much money if he had wished to exercise it .n the hope of gain. But, in his profession, he acted like an artist, wiching no more than the just payment for his work, which he always estimated at a value below its real worth. Jacques often amused himself by assisting him, and when he had pol- ished a halbert or some sword, he esteemed himself the happiest fellow in the country, provided, however, that Mademoiselle de Malzonvilliers gave him in the morning her daily smile. When Suzanne walked about the garden of the falconry in company with the children and the do- mestic animals which lived there on the best of terms, she offered to Jacques the strangest contrast imaginable. Jacques was large, strong, and vigorous. His black eyes, full of firmness and luster, shone under a forehead em- browned by the sun and loaded with thick curls of blonde hair. At the least gesture of his arms one understood that in a turn of the hand he would have pulled up a young tree by the roots or made an ox bend its hoofs; but at the least word from Suzanne, he blushed. Suzanne, on the contrary, had an exquisite delicacy of form and features; at fifteen she appeared to be scarcely twelve or thirteen years of age; her pale face, her slender form, her frail limbs indicated a nervous organization of an extreme deli- cacy. But the calm and radiant look of her great blue eyes, filled with life and intelligence, the clear and firm contour of her mouth, announced at “<he same time the resolution of an honest and courageous soul. She had the form ofa child and the smile of a woman. When she happened to go to sleep in the shade of an oak, ier head supported upon Jacques’ shoulder, the poor fellow remained immovable so long as the sleep of his little friend lasted, and, in a mute contemplation, he admired the young and pure face which reposed upon his heart with such an innocent abandon- ment. Whenthe young girl half oponed her rosy and seri- ous lips Jacques held his breath to hcar better. His soul vibrated at the voice of Suzanne as does the branch of the willow at the least breath of wind, and at times he felt, while listening to her, tears mount to his eyelids—tears whose cause was unknown to him, but whose divine source was in his One day in the month of May, 1658, five years before the epoch at which this story begins, and a short time before the glorious battle of the Dunes, Jacques, who might then pp ane On Ox SORE Oe eae ee ee eee ee Eomicbooks (E(0) m