D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 208: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXVI. A WAIVE. Quaqua was right as to Porthos passing into Lisbon shortly before ‘her own entry. On seeing the puissant Lord of the Vallon ride up, the guard presented arms to him, concluding that he was a rural potentate preceding his tenants to be offered on the altar of the kingdom. They expected some opposition on the part of so magnificent a sire to giving up his charger, according ‘to the prescrite, but, on the contrary, he re- signed possession of the famous “Plegon” without much concern for the receipt. He swaggered through the archway and plunged into the maze. ) At first the animation engrossed his attention, but the sense of being a foreigner was too frequently upcoming, and he began to be oppressed with the dread that, Lisbon being a larger city than he anticipated, his meeting with D’Artagnan was unlikely. “That musketeer!” muttered he. “A needle in the haystack of politics is never manifested until it pierces the rash seeker’s hand. Fool that I was, to quit the company of that adroit negro cook, for where she is, eood cheer presides. She is cleverer than she looks, but these gross people are often deceptive. Fat jowls and fat wits are not always companions. She must be bright, _ or Captain Pedro would never trust her with such com- missions. Who would believe me?—he sent off five hun- dred of his bravest sailors under her command! What a crew they are! They will rush you to this city when the whistle pipes, as if it were built of cheese and they were rats! Now, she would get me in touch with my captain, or devil grid me! Talking of grids, this town without a siege is suffering from short fare, I judge! All the cookshops are shut, if it had them in long lines, as Paris does; and the taverns (for there are taverns) are Eomichookssco im