A Gentleman from Gascony: A Romance of the Huguenots — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

THE WHITE BADGE. 49 And he glanced round, as if challenging any one to deny the statement. He evidently was in that talka- tive mood when a drunken man scarcely knows what he is saying and cares still less. “You will see,” he went on recklessly. ‘‘ To-morrow, stroke of the tocsin—Ohé! Paris will be gay at the death-dance of the heretics.” Scarce understanding, Gabrielle had retreated to a corner of the fireplace, and was listening in bewilder- ment to her cousin’s wild words. More astute, and presaging she knew not what dis- aster, the duchess, pale to the lips, rose from her chair, and advancing, laid her hand upon her son’s arm. “Paul! Paul! What are you saying?” she implored in low tense tones, “are you mad? Oh! I beseech you, if there are to be further scenes of horror, stay within doors. Remain with me!” He threw his arm about her with maudlin tenderness. “Have no fear, mother mine!” he declared, with difficulty. “We are all good Catholics here. All—all loyal to the king! Why shouldn’t you know? Why, shou—shou— See!” recovering himself with manifest effort, and, with his disengaged hand drawing from his pocket a little bundle, which he shook out and held up, revealing a double cross formed of white linen. “See! With—with this in my hat, and—and a white s-s-scarf on—on my arm, I am safe! As are all—all who wear them. Remember—remem—if—if——” He could articulate no more, and his head fell for- ward. With an action full of infinite sorrow, full of divine tenderness, his mother drew the drooping head down upon her breast. Then she turned an agonized look upon Gabrielle. Her lips moved, but they uttered no sound. 4 Gomicbooks (S@)