A Gentleman from Gascony: A Romance of the Huguenots — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

ee) re THE LAST OF HIS RACE, tI breast of Raoul de Puycadére, as he rode happily along through the shady lanes and past the vineyards of this garden land of France. All his dreams of the future were tinged with gold and rose-color. Enthusiastic with anticipation, he carolled forth in his fresh, young voice that old ballad of the Gascon land: Mon aieul était rossignol, Ma grand’mere était hirondelle! Ohé, le pays Gascon! Ohé, le pays Gascon! Nothing of note happened during the rest of the afternoon. ‘The old horse soon tired of its little burst of spirits and could only at rare intervals be forced out of a walk. Shortly after sunset, Raoul rode into the village of Riconde, a wretched little hamlet, consisting mostly of hovels. Inquiring of a peasant, who was making his way home bending beneath a load of faggots, he learned that the place boasted a sort of inn where possibly, the peasant was inclined to be doubtful, but fosszbly refresh- ment for man and beast might be obtained. ? When he arrived at the spot indicated, De Puycadeére discovered that it was a low, ramshackle sort of an affair with nothing inviting about it. But as he was desper- ately hungry and moderately tired as well, he deter- mined to try his luck, and reining in his steed, a process almost superfluous, he began bawling lustily for the landlord. It was some moments before any one appeared, but _ finally the door opened, and a woman peered forth, with blinking eyes, a woman so old that by a slight stretch of the imagination she might have been considered a contemporary of those who inhabited the ark. comichook (S@)