We were country-folk. Not one of us had been to Pau, much less
to Paris. The Vicomte held stricter views than were common then,
upon young people's education; and though we had learned to ride
and shoot, to use our swords and toss a hawk, and to read and
write, we knew little more than Catherine herself of the world;
little more of the pleasures and sins of court life, and not one-
tenth as much as she did of its graces. Still she had taught us
to dance and make a bow. Her presence had softened our manners;
and of late we had gained something from the frank companionship
of Louis de Pavannes, a Huguenot whom the Vicomte had taken
prisoner at Moncontour and held to ransom. We were not, I
think, mere clownish yokels.
But we were shy. We disliked and shunned strangers. And when
old Gil appeared suddenly, while we were still chewing the
melancholy cud of Kit's announcement, and cried sepulchrally, "M.
le Vidame de Bezers to pay his respects to Mademoiselle!"--Well,
there was something like a panic, I confess!
We scrambled to our feet, muttering, "The Wolf!" The entrance at
Caylus is by a ramp rising from the gateway to the level of the
terrace.
Pages:
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28