D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 198: what you’re looking at

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

The Royal Proclamation. 185 They were supplemented, on this occasion, by swarthy men and women, taking up the trade at once as their own occupations were suspended. These, who had a sea- faring and waterside look, carried casks; if small, on _ the shoulder or hip, or, if large, between two of them. They set them up at corners and in nooks, sure that the watch would not interfere with them. The only remarkable thing about their goods was the singular effect they had upon those customers who wore the varied uniform of the garrison of the towers and the citadel. These soldiers were specially welcome, the women not scrupling to beckon and to call in the patois of their provinces. When they drank, there was a first cup thrown in because of “the fellow-countrymanship.” When the soldier received his change, although he thad tendered the smallest coin current, he would look at it with the air of the beggar who has a gold piece fall where he expected a farthing. Then, falling into abstrac- tion, like an ecstatic, he would so blunder that, instead of proceeding to quarters, he would stray toward the walls. At the first breach or practicable spot to scale he would - mount and cross and jump down on the farther side. Then, still under the odd influence of this cheap but magical vintage, he marched off farther and farther from the city. In keeping this course, he could not fail to arrive at the hostile lines. In this way, it was a simple calculation to figure how long or brief a period must pass to place the whole gar- rison in the command of Don Juan. But, while there were slaves of thirst, the greater de- mand was for news. Decided events were grave. The rumors were por- tentous, but they clashed. Every now and then a group would form around a person bursting with his intelli- gence—as likely invented for a purpose as for no gain whatever. All centered on the fact that the Duke ot Braganza, long suspected of wishing to kick over the platter held out to him by King Philip, had thrown off all dissimulation, and launched himself as a thunderbolt at his sovereign’s head. One thunderbolt is more or less CORNICE OOOKS (C(O) im