A Gentleman from Gascony: A Romance of the Huguenots — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

\ : 144 A GENTLEMAN FROM GASCONY. “T—I dare not. “ Dare not!” “T bring but woeful tidings.” The duchess advanced close to the wretched count and fixed her burning eyes upon his, as if she would wrest the truth from his very soul. The delicate old face flushed crimson, and then grew pale and rigid as marble. ‘“Woeful tidings,” she gasped, each word a manifest effort. “Of whom? My son? Where is he—why do you look at each other, and— He is dead! Do not speak! JI readitin your eyes! My boy is dead!” She staggered back, and, resting against a table, clasped her hands above her heart. Dead! dead! and she still lived! Her eyes wandered fitfully about the room, and, as often happens when every other faculty seems paralyzed by some sudden shock of grief, each petty detail burned itself indelibly upon her memory. As her wandering glance fell upon the bed, the cur- tains trembled slightly. She started as one awaking from a terrible dream, and made a step toward the bed, then halted abruptly. At this moment, with that fatuousness which makes fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Goujon sput- tered out in his thick voice: “By the mass, Madame la Duchesse, but ’tis your son’s murderer we seek. May I never empty wine-flask again but I saw the Calvinistic dog enter by. this window.” A shudder ran over the duchess’ frame. Her lips moved, but no sound issued forth. “With these two eyes I saw him.” The afflicted woman swayed slightly and seemed about to sink to the ground, but as Lemours sprang for- Gomicbooks (<(@)