D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

118 The Musketeer’s Warrant. “Pierrefonds, I remember. Blessed Edens!” “But in them is My “Not the serpent ?” “No, no, the Eva d “Your wife r “My wife,” continued M. du Vallon, lowering his voice, as if by telepathy it could be heard in France, “was widow of one M. Coquenard, a pettifogger of the lowest degree. This proctor found that playing jackal to briefless bar- risters was most unremunerative. He established: him- self as one of those legal advisers on the borderland of the Palace of Justice, who, with the pretense to save clients from the collective fraternity, pluck them entirely for their own mattresses. He appeared as Hope, in a black gown, to those desperates, with embarrassed estates, who wanted immediate silver at the cost of impoverishing their future generations to the seventh. Coquenard and the second mortgage were inseparable. “You do not see in me an authority on money matters, but it seems to me that these lenders on such security are in the position of a man who holds a bull by the horns, one who holds the same by the girth, and one by the tail. The first may be tossed before he gets his steak; the second rolled upon, and the third flung over the pasture hedge. This picture M. Coquenard showed to the pledger, who in most instances sold out his feeble chance, and Coquenard obtained possession of the property. At the settlement, the settling always set toward his strong box. Thus he retired rich. It was his wealth with which Madame Coquenard gratified her second mate when he retired from the Musketeers.” “In short, her wealth outbid her charms and disposi- tion i “Well, her disposition—of the property—entirely upon me—that was faultless. I have not had her horoscope cast, but I expected in a few years ss “Naturally, but you forget that there really is a phoenix “That fable! do you tell me that there is a phoenix ?” “Undoubtedly there is a phoenix. Its name in our tongue is Expectations—from a rich lady in her own Gomichbooks Go