That day was destined to be an eventful one. It will be remembered that
Lampourde, the professional assassin, had received from Merindol--acting
for the Duke Of Vallombreuse--a commission to put Captain Fracasse
quietly out of the way, and accordingly that worthy was dodging about on
the Pont-Neuf, at the hour of sunset, waiting to intercept his intended
victim, who would necessarily pass that way in returning to his hotel.
Jacquemin awaited his arrival impatiently, frequently breathing on his
fingers and rubbing them vigorously, so that they should not be quite
numb with the cold when the moment for action came, and stamping up and
down in order to warm his half-frozen feet. The weather was extremely
cold, and the sun had set behind the Pont Rouge, in a heavy mass of
blood-red clouds. Twilight was coming on apace, and already there were
only occasional foot-passengers, or vehicles, to be encountered hurrying
along the deserted streets.
At last de Sigognac appeared, walking very fast, for a vague anxiety
about Isabelle had taken possession of him, and he was in haste to get
back to her. In his hurry and preoccupation he did not notice Lampourde,
who suddenly approached and laid hold of his cloak, which he snatched
off, with a quick, strong jerk that broke its fastenings.
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