A Gentleman from Gascony: A Romance of the Huguenots — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

“y EXACT THE PRICE OF BLOOD.” 161 Seeing that the intruder was a woman, Mademoiselle de Vrissac recovered her composure. “What are you doing here?” she asked, haughtily. Mirza raised her eyes imploringly to the beautiful face which was regarding her with such proud ques- tioning. “Oh, mademoiselle,” she said, entreatingly, “do not repent of a kindness promised to one who braves even death itself for a few minutes’ speech with you.” “Death! Ah, what miserable cause could have led Raoul de Puycadére to draw sword in a quarrel that has separated us for ever!” The Tzigana hesitated, and then she said sadly i with an effort: “Alas! That miserable cause was myself.” “You!” ejaculated Gabrielle, recoiling, with a pang of jealousy at her heart. A bitter smile crossed Mirza’s comely features. “Yes, I,” she said, with an intensity of feeling born of long and unjust persecution of her race. “I, a poor Bohemian, a dancer for money in the public streets— the cause was no more than that. But in her sore dis- tress, she claimed his aid; he saw only a woman—a woman outraged, helpless, and alone.” Gabrielle’s heart was touched. Moved by a sudden impulse, she took the gypsy’s hand in her own white one, and said with a gentle humility that became her well: “Forgive me! He had been less than man had he refused his aid.” Tears stood in the Tzigana’s dark eyes, and from that moment her devotion was given to Gabrielle equally as to the chevalier. She would have died for either of them. aa Comichbooks (S@)