Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

A STEP IN LIFE. 31 black mustache set off lips of the purest contour. A deep pallor, spread over his delicate features, gave his physiog- nomy an inexpressible distinction and charm. Jacques felt reassured at the first look. Friend or enemy, he was dealing with a brave gentleman. The officer silently con- sidered Jacques for a moment, and a passing smile lit up his countenance, over which melancholy had thrown its mysterious vail. | ‘Tf you are a Frenchman,’’ he at last said, in a clear and sweet voice, “‘fear nothing, you are among French- men.”’ Jacques related to him what had happened to him, his sleep, his capture, his deliverance, the peril which he had escaped. ‘The officer listened to him, twisting the end of his mustache, his eyes fixed upon those of the young man. Jacques understood the significance of this look. He blushed. ‘*You take me for a spy?”’ said he, in a quick tone. ‘‘Not now; cowardice doas not possess those honest features and that proud look. it trembles, but it does not blush. You area brave fellow, and you shall lead us to the place where you left the freebooters.’’ ‘‘Willingly. When I lost sight of them they were taking the road to the Abbaye de St. Georges, near Bergueneuse, and cannot be more than a league from here,”’’ Upon the captain’s order, Jacques was furnished with a coat, hat, saber, and pistols. ‘‘Did you ever handle these togs?’’ said the officer. ‘*You can judge, my captain, if we come across the ban- dits who robbed me.”’ ‘‘Go ahead, then.’’ Jacques placed himself at the head of the troop, which was composed of almost two hundred cavaliers carrying behind them as many grenadiers. It had just been detailed from the garrison of St. Pal, to repulse the marauders of the Spanish army who had been described by the scouts. The officer rode by Jacques’ side. ‘*You handle your horse like an old soldier,’’ he said to him at the end of five mintues, ‘‘Where did you learn horsemanship?”’ ‘‘At my father’s, who lives at St. Omer.”’ ‘‘Ah! you are from St. Omer? Then you have, perhaps, known an honest falconer named Guillaume Grinedal?’’ ‘‘How could I fail to know him, since he is my father.”’ The officer trembled. He turned his face toward Jacques and began to consider him attentively. Eomichboo S im (E(0)