The Refugees eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 366 pages of information about The Refugees.

“And this Dalbert?”

“Oh, he is there also!”

“What! you have left her in his power while you came away to Versailles?”

“She is locked in her room.”

“Pah! what is a lock?” The young man raved with his hands in the air at the thought of his own impotence.

“And Pierre is there?”

“He is useless.”

“And Amos Green.”

“Ah, that is better.  He is a man, by the look of him.”

“His mother was one of our own folk from Staten Island, near Manhattan.  She was one of those scattered lambs who fled early before the wolves, when first it was seen that the king’s hand waxed heavy upon Israel.  He speaks French, and yet he is neither French to the eye, nor are his ways like our ways.”

“He has chosen an evil time for his visit.”

“Some wise purpose may lie hid in it.”

“And you have left him in the house?”

“Yes; he was sat with this Dalbert, smoking with him, and telling him strange tales.”

“What guard could he be?  He is a stranger in a strange land.  You did ill to leave Adele thus, uncle.”

“She is in God’s hands, Amory.”

“I trust so.  Oh, I am on fire to be there!”

He thrust his head through the cloud of dust which rose from the wheels, and craned his neck to look upon the long curving river and broad-spread city, which was already visible before them, half hid by a thin blue haze, through which shot the double tower of Notre Dame, with the high spire of St. Jacques and a forest of other steeples and minarets, the monuments of eight hundred years of devotion.  Soon, as the road curved down to the river-bank, the city wall grew nearer and nearer, until they had passed the southern gate, and were rattling over the stony causeway, leaving the broad Luxembourg upon their right, and Colbert’s last work, the Invalides, upon their left.  A sharp turn brought them on to the river quays, and crossing over the Pont Neuf, they skirted the stately Louvre, and plunged into the labyrinth of narrow but important streets which extended to the northward.  The young officer had his head still thrust out of the window, but his view was obscured by a broad gilded carriage which lumbered heavily along in front of them.  As the road broadened, however, it swerved to one side, and he was able to catch a glimpse of the house to which they were making.

It was surrounded on every side by an immense crowd.

CHAPTER VI.

A HOUSE OF STRIFE.

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The Refugees from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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