A Gentleman from Gascony: A Romance of the Huguenots — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

142 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY, He paused. There was something in his accent that almost convinced the duchess of his sincerity. “The man is dead?” she said, after a moment. “T left him on the tavern floor,” replied Raoul. “He stirred my blood beyond the power of control. Were there but light enough to see my face, your own eyes could bear witness to the coward mark his glove has left upon my cheek.” “He struck you.” “ Aye, and with words as injurious as his blow.” The clamor outside was now directly beneath the window, and the red glare of torches shimmered fitfully upon the curtains. : “They are there, madame,” murmured Raoul, des- perately, “beneath your balcony. It is for you to give or to refuse the feast of blood.” “What is it you demand?” she asked, abruptly. “Protection! Your house is now my only sanctuary, and the altar I would cling to is your mercy.” “You plead well.” “I plead for life. Ah, madame, bethink you, is there no life dear to you, that chance may place in a similar peril? A husband? A son?” The duchess started violently. A son? Heaven for- bid that Paul should be in such danger! And yet who could tell? Perhaps the succor now demanded of her by this stranger her own son might one day stand in need of. At this thought all hesitation vanished. “No more, monsieur, no more,” she said in great agitation. “I believe your story. Give me your hand.” And she led him toward the head of the bed and pushed aside the hangings. “Conceal yourself behind these curtains, and, when hidden, stir not. Should (EOMMIELOCOKS (e(o 10