If the honest tyrant could have seen him as he walked briskly
away, the moment he was safely out of sight, he would have been
astonished at the way the broad, stooping shoulders straightened
themselves up, and at the rapid, vigorous step that succeeded to the
slow, rather infirm gait of his venerable visitor--but these things our
worthy Herode neither saw nor suspected.
On Wednesday morning, as the comedians were finishing the packing of
their chariot, which stood ready for departure in the courtyard of the
hotel, with a pair of fine spirited horses before it that the tyrant had
hired for the journey, a tall, rather fierce-looking lackey, dressed
in a neat livery and mounted on a stout pony, presented himself at the
outer door, cracking his whip vigorously, and announcing himself as
the guide, sent according to promise by the considerate major-domo, to
conduct them to the Chateau de Pommereuil.
Eight clear strokes rang out from the Samaritan just as the heavy
vehicle emerged into the Rue Dauphine, and our company of players set
forth on their ill-fated expedition. In less than half an hour they had
left the Porte Saint Antoine and the Bastile behind them, passed through
the thickly settled faubourg and gained the open country; advancing
towards Vincennes, which they could distinguish in the distance, with
its massive keep partially veiled by a delicate blue mist, that was
rapidly dispersing under the influence of the bright, morning sunshine.
Pages:
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466