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New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Under the Red Robe

S >> Stanley Weyman >> Under the Red Robe

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'Well--you surprise me,' he said.

Only that; but he spoke so drily that I felt the blood rush to my
face.

'Take care, Monsieur,' I said severely. 'Do not presume too far
on the inconvenience to which your death might put me.'

He shrugged his shoulders.

'No offence,' he said. 'But you do not seem, M. de Berault, to
comprehend the difficulty. If we do not settle things now, we
shall be bickering twenty times a day.'

'Well, what do you want?' I asked impatiently,

'Simply to know how you are going to proceed. So that our plans
may not clash.'

'But surely, M. le Capitaine, that is my affair,' I said.

'The clashing?' he answered bitterly. Then he waved aside my
wrath 'Pardon,' he said, 'the point is simply this. How do you
propose to find him if he is here?'

'That again is my affair,' I answered.
He threw up his hands in despair; but in a moment his place was
taken by an unexpected disputant.

The Lieutenant, who had stood by all the time, listening and
tugging at his grey moustache, suddenly spoke.

Look here, M. de Berault,' he said, confronting me roughly, 'I do
not fight duels. I am from the ranks. I proved my courage at
Montauban in '21, and my honour is good enough to take care of
itself. So I say what I like, and I ask you plainly what M. le
Capitaine doubtless has in his mind, but does not ask: Are you
running with the hare, and hunting with the hounds in this
matter? In other words, have you thrown up Monseigneur's
commission in all but name, and become Madame's ally; or--it is
the only other alternative--are you getting at the man through
the women?'

'You villain!' I cried, glaring at him in such a rage and fury
that I could scarcely get the words out. This was plain speaking
with a vengeance! How dare you? How dare you say that I am
false to the hand that pays me?'

I thought that he would blench, but he did not. He stood up
stiff as a poker.

'I do not say; I ask!' he replied, facing me squarely, and
slapping his fist into his open hand to drive home his words the
better. 'I ask you whether you are playing the traitor to the
Cardinal, or to these two women? It is a simple question.'

I fairly choked. 'You impudent scoundrel!' I said.

'Steady, steady!' he replied. 'Pitch sticks where it belongs,
and nowhere else. But that is enough. I see which it is, M. le
Capitaine; this way a moment, by your leave.'

And in a very cavalier fashion he took his officer by the arm,
and drew him into a sidewalk, leaving me to stand in the sun,
bursting with anger and spleen. The gutter-bred rascal! That
such a man should insult me, and with impunity! In Paris, I
might have made him fight, but here it was impossible.

I was still foaming with rage when they returned.

'We have come to a determination,' the Lieutenant said, tugging
his grey moustachios, and standing like a ramrod. 'We shall
leave you the house and Madame, and you can take your own line to
find the man, for ourselves, we shall draw off our men to the
village, and we shall take our line. That is all, M. le
Capitaine, is it not?'

'I think so,' the Captain muttered, looking anywhere but at me.

'Then we bid you good-day, Monsieur,' the Lieutenant added, and
in a moment he turned his companion round, and the two retired up
the walk to the house, leaving me to look after them in a black
fit of rage and incredulity.

At the first flush, there was something so offensive in the
manner of their going that anger had the upper hand. I thought
of the Lieutenant's words, and I cursed him to hell with a
sickening consciousness that I should not forget them in a hurry.

'Was I playing the traitor to the Cardinal or to these women--
which?' MON DIEU! if ever question--but there, some day I would
punish him. And the Captain? I could put an end to his
amusement, at any rate; and I would. Doubtless among the country
bucks of Auch he lorded it as a chief provincial bully, but I
would cut his comb for him some fine morning behind the barracks.

And then as I grew cooler I began to wonder why they were going,
and what they were going to do. They might be already on the
track, or have the information they required under hand; in that
case I could understand the movement. But if they were still
searching vaguely, uncertain whether their quarry were in the
neighbourhood or not, and uncertain how long they might have to
stay, it seemed incredible that soldiers should move from good
quarters to bad without motive.

I wandered down the garden, thinking sullenly of this, and
pettishly cutting off the heads of the flowers with my sheathed
sword. After all, if they found and arrested the man, what then?
I should have to make my peace with the Cardinal as I best might.
He would have gained his point, but not through me, and I should
have to look to myself. On the other hand, if I anticipated
them--and, as a fact, I believed that I could lay my hand on the
fugitive within a few hours--there would come a time when I must
face Mademoiselle.

A little while back that had not seemed so difficult a thing.
From the day of our first meeting--and in a higher degree since
that afternoon when she had lashed me with her scorn-my views of
her, and my feelings towards her, had been strangely made up of
antagonism and sympathy; of repulsion, because in her past and
present she was so different from me; of yearning because she was
a woman and friendless. Later I had duped her and bought her
confidence by returning the jewels, and so in a measure I had
sated my vengeance; then, as a consequence, sympathy had again
got the better of me, until now I hardly knew my own mind, or
what I felt, or what I intended. I DID NOT KNOW, in fact, what I
intended. I stood there in the garden with that conviction
suddenly newborn in my mind; and then, in a moment, I heard her
step, and I turned to find her behind me.

Her face was like April, smiles breaking through her tears. As
she stood with a tall hedge of sunflowers behind her, I started
to see how beautiful she was.

'I am here in search of you, M. de Barthe,' she said, colouring
slightly, perhaps because my eyes betrayed my thought; 'to thank
you. You have not fought, and yet you have conquered. My woman
has just been with me, and she tells me that they are going.'

'Going?' I said, 'Yes, Mademoiselle, they are leaving the
house.'

She did not understand my reservation.

'What magic have you used?' she said almost gaily; it was
wonderful how hope had changed her. 'Besides, I am curious to
learn how you managed to avoid fighting.'

'After taking a blow?' I said bitterly.

'Monsieur, I did not mean that,' she said reproachfully.

But her face clouded. I saw that, viewed in this light--in
which, I suppose, she had not hitherto--the matter perplexed her
more than before.

I took a sudden resolution.

'Have you ever heard, Mademoiselle,' I said gravely, plucking off
while I spoke the dead leaves from a plant beside me, 'of a
gentleman by name De Berault? Known in Paris, I have heard, by
the sobriquet of the Black Death?'

'The duellist?' she answered, looking at me in wonder. 'Yes, I
have heard of him. He killed a young gentleman of this province
at Nancy two years back. 'It was a sad story,' she continued,
shuddering slightly, 'of a dreadful man. God keep our friends
from such!'

'Amen!' I said quietly. But, in spite of myself, I could not
meet her eyes.

'Why?' she answered, quickly taking alarm at; my silence. 'What
of him, M. de Barthe? Why have you mentioned him?'

'Because he is here, Mademoiselle.'

'Here?' she exclaimed. 'At Cocheforet?'

'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I answered soberly. 'I am he.'



CHAPTER X

CLON

'You!' she cried, in a voice which pierced my heart. 'You are
M. de Berault? It is impossible!' But, glancing askance at her
--I could not face her I saw that the blood had left her cheeks.

'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I answered in a low tone. 'De Barthe was my
mother's name. When I came here, a stranger, I took it that I
might not be known; that I might again speak to a good woman, and
not see her shrink. That, and--but why trouble you with all
this?' I continued rebelling, against her silence, her turned
shoulder, her averted face. 'You asked me, Mademoiselle, how I
could take a blow and let the striker go. I have answered. It
is the one privilege M. de Berault possesses.'

'Then,' she replied almost in a whisper, 'if I were M. de
Berault, I would avail myself of it, and never fight again.'

'In that event, Mademoiselle,' I answered coldly, 'I should lose
my men friends as well as my women friends. Like Monseigneur the
Cardinal, rule by fear.'

She shuddered, either at the name or at the idea my words called
up; and, for a moment, we stood awkwardly silent. The shadow of
the sundial fell between us; the garden was still; here and there
a leaf fluttered slowly down. With each instant of that silence,
of that aversion, I felt the gulf between us growing wider, I
felt myself growing harder; I mocked at her past which was so
unlike mine; I mocked at mine, and called it fate. I was on the
point of turning from her with a bow--and with a furnace in my
breast--when she spoke.

'There is a last rose lingering there,' she said, a slight tremor
in her voice. 'I cannot reach it. Will you pluck it for me, M.
de Berault?'

I obeyed her, my hand trembling, my face on fire. She took the
rose from me, and placed it in the bosom of her dress, And I saw
that her hand trembled too, and that her cheek was dark with
blushes.

She turned without more ado, and began to walk towards the house.
'Heaven forbid that I should misjudge you a second time!' she
said in a low voice. 'And, after all, who am I, that I should
judge you at all? An hour ago I would have killed that man had I
possessed the power.'

'You repented, Mademoiselle,' I said huskily. I could scarcely
speak.

'Do you never repent?' she said.

'Yes. But too late, Mademoiselle.'

'Perhaps it is never too late,' she answered softly.

'Alas, when a man is dead--'

'You may rob a man of worse than life!' she replied with energy,
stopping me by a gesture. 'If you have never robbed a man--or a
woman--of honour! If you have never ruined boy or girl, M. de
Berault! If you have never pushed another into the pit and gone
by it yourself! If--but, for murder? Listen. You are a
Romanist, but I am a Huguenot, and have read. "Thou shall not
kill!" it is written; and the penalty, "By man shall thy blood be
shed!" But, "If you cause one of these little ones to offend, it
were better for you that a mill-stone were hanged about your
neck, and that you were cast into the depths of the sea."'

'Mademoiselle, you are merciful,' I muttered.

'I need mercy myself,' she answered, sighing. 'And I have had
few temptations. How do I know what you have suffered?'

'Or done!' I said, almost rudely.

'Where a man has not lied, nor betrayed, nor sold himself or
others,' she answered in a low tone, 'I think I can forgive all
else. I can better put up with force,' she added smiling sadly,
'than with fraud.'

Ah, Dieu! I turned away my face that she might not see how pale
it grew; that she might not guess how her words, meant in mercy,
stabbed me to the heart. And yet, then, for the first time,
while viewing in all its depth and width the gulf which separated
us, I was not hardened; I was not cast back upon myself. Her
gentleness, her pity, her humility softened me, while they
convicted me. My God, how, after this, could I do that which I
had come to do? How could I stab her in the tenderest part, how
could I inflict on her that rending pang, how could I meet her
eyes, and stand before her, a Caliban, a Judas, the vilest,
lowest thing she could conceive?

I stood, a moment, speechless and disordered; overcome by her
words, by my thoughts. I have seen a man so stand when he has
lost all at the tables. Then I turned to her; and for an instant
I thought that my tale was told already, I thought that she had
pierced my disguise. For her face was changed--stricken as with
fear. The next moment, I saw that she was not looking at me, but
beyond me; and I turned quickly and saw a servant hurrying from
the house to us. It was Louis. His eyes were staring, his hair
waved, his cheeks were flabby with dismay, He breathed as if he
had been running.

'What is it?' Mademoiselle cried, while he was still some way
off. 'Speak, man. My sister? Is she--'

'Clon,' he gasped.

The name changed her to stone.

'Clon? What of him?' she muttered.

'In the village!' Louis panted, his tongue stuttering with
terror. 'They are flogging him. They are killing him! To make
him tell!'

Mademoiselle grasped the sundial and leant against it, her face
colourless; and, for an instant, I thought that she was fainting.

'Tell?' I said mechanically. 'But he cannot tell. He is dumb,
man.'

'They will make him guide them,' Louis groaned, covering his ears
with his shaking hands, his face the colour of paper. 'And his
cries! Oh, Monsieur, go, go!' he continued, in a thrilling
tone. 'Save him. All through tie wood I heard his cries. It was
horrible! horrible!'

Mademoiselle uttered a moan of pain; and I turned to support her,
thinking each second to see her fall. But with a sudden
movement she straightened herself, and, quickly slipping by me,
with eyes that seemed to see nothing, she set off swiftly down
the walk towards the meadow gate.

I ran after her; but, taken by surprise as I was, it was only by
a great effort I reached the gate before her, and thrusting
myself in the road, barred the way.

'Let me pass!' she panted, striving to thrust me on one side.
'Out of my way, sir! I am going to the village.'

'You are not going to the village,' I said sternly. 'Go back; to
the house, Mademoiselle, and at once.'

'My servant!' she wailed. 'Let me go! Let me go! Do you think
I can rest here while they torture him? He cannot speak, and
they--they--'

'Go back, Mademoiselle,' I said, with decision. 'Your presence
would only make matters worse! I will go myself, and what one
man can do against many, I will! Louis, give your mistress your
arm and take her to the house. Take her to Madame.'

'But you will go?' she cried. And before I could stay her--I
swear I would have stopped her if I could--she raised my hand and
carried it to her trembling lips. 'You will go! Go and stop
them! Stop them, and Heaven reward you, Monsieur!'

I did not answer; nay, I did not once look back, as I crossed the
meadow; but I did not look forward either. Doubtless it was
grass I trod, and the wood was before me with the sun shining
aslant on it; doubtless the house rose behind me with a flame
here and there in the windows. But I went in a dream, among
shadows; with a racing pulse, in a glow from head to heel;
conscious of nothing but the touch of Mademoiselle's warm lips on
my hand, seeing neither meadow nor house, nor even the dark
fringe of wood before me, but only Mademoiselle's passionate
face. For the moment I was drunk: drunk with that to which I
had been so long a stranger, with that which a man may scorn for
years, to find it at last beyond his reach drunk with the touch
of a good woman's lips.

I passed the bridge in this state; and my feet were among the
brushwood before the heat and fervour in which I moved found on a
sudden their direction. Something began to penetrate to my
veiled senses--a hoarse inarticulate cry, now deep, now shrilling
horribly, that of itself seemed to fill the wood. It came at
intervals of half a minute or so, and made the flesh creep, it
rang so full of dumb pain, of impotent wrestling, of unspeakable
agony. I am a man and have seen things. I saw the Concini
beheaded, and Chalais ten years later--they gave him thirty-four
blows; and when I was a boy I escaped from the college and viewed
from a great distance Ravaillac torn by horses--that was in the
year ten. But the horrible cries I now heard, filled me, perhaps
because I was alone and fresh from the sight of Mademoiselle,
with loathing inexpressible. The very wood, though the sun had
not yet set, seemed to grow dark. I ran on through it, cursing,
until the hovels of the village came in sight. Again the shriek
rose, a pulsing horror, and this time I could hear the lash fall
on the sodden flesh, I could sec in fancy the dumb man,
trembling, quivering, straining against his bonds. And then, in
a moment, I was in the street, and, as the scream once more tore
the air, I dashed round the corner by the inn, and came upon
them.

I did not look at HIM, but I saw Captain Larolle and the
Lieutenant, and a ring of troopers, and one man, bare-armed,
teasing out with his fingers the thongs of a whip. The thongs
dripped blood, and the sight fired the mine. The rage I had
suppressed when the Lieutenant bearded me earlier in the
afternoon, the passion with which Mademoiselle's distress had
filled my breast, on the instant found vent. I sprang through
the line of soldiers; and striking the man with the whip a buffet
between the shoulders, which hurled him breathless to the ground,
I turned on the leaders.

'You fiends!' I cried. 'Shame on you! The man is dumb! Dumb;
and if I had ten men with me, I would sweep you and your scum out
of the village with broomsticks. Lay on another lash,' I
continued recklessly, 'and I will see whether you or the Cardinal
be the stronger.'

The Lieutenant stared at me, his grey moustache bristling, his
eyes almost starting from his head. Some of the troopers laid
their hands on their swords, but no one moved, and only the
Captain spoke.

'MILLE DIABLES!' he swore. 'What is all this about? Are you
mad, sir?'

'Mad or sane!' I cried furiously. 'Lay on another lash, and you
shall repent it.'

For an instant there was a pause of astonishment. Then, to my
surprise, the Captain laughed--laughed loudly.

'Very heroic,' he said. 'Quite magnificent, M. Chevalier-
errant. But you see, unfortunately, you come too late.'

'Too late,' I said incredulously.

'Yes, too late,' he replied, with a mocking smile. And the
Lieutenant grinned too. 'Unfortunately, you see, the man has
just confessed. We have only been giving him an extra touch or
two, to impress his memory, and save us the trouble of lashing
him up again.'

'I don't believe it,' I said bluntly--but I felt the check, and
fell to earth. 'The man cannot speak.'

'No, but he has managed to tell us what we want; that he will
guide us to the place we are seeking,' the Captain answered
drily. 'The whip, if it cannot find a man a tongue, can find him
wits. What is more, I think that he will keep his word,' he
continued, with a hideous scowl. 'For I warn him that if he does
not, all your heroics shall not save him. He is a rebel dog, and
known to us of old; and I will flay his back to the bones, ay,
until we can see his heart beating through his ribs, but I will
have what I want--in your teeth, too, you d--d meddler.'

'Steady, steady!' I said, sobered. I saw that he was telling
the truth. 'Is he going to take you to M. de Cocheforet's
hiding-place?'

'Yes, he is!' the Captain retorted. 'Have you any objection to
that, Master Spy?'

'None,' I replied. 'Only I shall go with you. And if you live
three months, I shall kill you for that name-behind the barracks
at Auch, M. le Capitaine.'

He changed colour, but he answered me boldly enough.

'I don't know that you will go with us,' he said, with a snarl.
'That is as we please.'

'I have the Cardinal's orders,' I said sternly.

'The Cardinal?' he exclaimed, stung to fury by this repetition
of the name. 'The Cardinal be--'

But the Lieutenant laid his hand on his lips and stopped him.

'Hush!' he said. Then more quietly, 'Your pardon, M. le
Capitaine; but the least said the soonest mended. Shall I give
orders to the men to fall in?'

The Captain nodded sullenly.

The Lieutenant turned to his prisoner.

'Take him down!' he commanded in his harsh, monotonous voice.
'Throw his blouse over him, and tie his hands. And do you two,
Paul and Lebrun, guard him. Michel, bring the whip, or he may
forget how it tastes. Sergeant, choose four good men, and
dismiss the rest to their quarters.'

'Shall we need the horses?' the sergeant asked.

'I don't know,' the Captain answered peevishly. 'What does the
rogue say?'

The Lieutenant stepped up to him.

'Listen!' he said grimly. 'Nod if you mean yes, and shake your
head if you mean no. And have a care you answer truly. Is it
more than a mile to this place?'

They had loosened the poor wretch's fastenings, and covered his
back. He stood leaning his shoulder against the wall, his mouth
still panting, the sweat running down his hollow cheeks. His
sunken eyes were closed, but a quiver now and again ran through
his frame. The Lieutenant repeated his question, and, getting no
answer, looked round for orders. The Captain met the look, and
crying savagely, 'Answer will you, you mule!' struck the half-
swooning miserable across the back with his switch. The effect
was magical. Covered, as his shoulders were, the man sprang
erect with a shriek of pain, raising his chin, and hollowing his
back; and in that attitude stood an instant with starting eyes,
gasping for breath. Then he sank back against the wall, moving
his mouth spasmodically. His face was the colour of lead.

'Diable! I think that we have gone too far with him!' the
Captain muttered.

'Bring some wine!' the Lieutenant replied. 'Quick with it!'

I looked on, burning with indignation, and in some excitement
besides. For if the man took them to the place, and they
succeeded in seizing Cocheforet, there was an end of the matter
as far as I was concerned. It was off my shoulders, and I might
leave the village when I pleased; nor was it likely--since he
would have his man, though not through me--that the Cardinal
would refuse to grant me an amnesty. On the whole, I thought
that he would prefer that things should take this course; and
assuming the issue, I began to wonder whether it would be
necessary in that event that Madame should know the truth. I had
a kind of vision of a reformed Berault, dead to play and purging
himself at a distance from Zaton's; winning, perhaps, a name in
the Italian war, and finally--but, pshaw! I was a fool.

However, be these things as they might, it was essential that I
should see the arrest made; and I waited patiently while they
revived the tortured man, and made their dispositions. These
took some time; so that the sun was down, and it was growing dusk
when we marched out, Clon going first, supported by his two
guards, the Captain and I following--abreast, and eyeing one
another suspiciously; the Lieutenant, with the sergeant and five
troopers, bringing up the rear. Clon moved slowly, moaning from
time to time; and but for the aid given him by the two men with
him, must have sunk down again and again.

He led the way out between two houses close to the inn, and
struck a narrow track, scarcely discernible, which ran behind
other houses, and then plunged into the thickest part of the
wood. A single person, traversing the covert, might have made
such a track; or pigs, or children. But it was the first idea
that occurred to us, and put us all on the alert. The Captain
carried a cocked pistol, I held my sword drawn, and kept a
watchful eye on HIM; and the deeper the dusk fell in the wood,
the more cautiously we went, until at last we came out with a
sort of jump into a wider and lighter path.

I looked up and down, and saw behind me a vista of tree-trunks,
before me a wooden bridge and an open meadow, lying cold and grey
in the twilight; and I stood in astonishment. We were in the old
path to the Chateau! I shivered at the thought that he was going
to take us there, to the house, to Mademoiselle!

The Captain also recognised the place, and swore aloud. But the
dumb man went on unheeding until he reached the wooden bridge.
There he stopped short, and looked towards the dark outline of
the house, which was just visible, one faint light twinkling
sadly in the west wing. As the Captain and I pressed up behind
him, he raised his hands and seemed to wring them towards the
house.

'Have a care!' the Captain growled. 'Play me no tricks, or--'

He did not finish the sentence, for Clon, as if he well
understood his impatience, turned back from the bridge, and,
entering the wood to the left, began to ascend the bank of the
stream. We had not gone a hundred yards before the ground grew
rough, and the undergrowth thick; and yet through all ran a kind
of path which enabled us to advance, dark as it was now growing.
Very soon the bank on which we moved began to rise above the
water, and grew steep and rugged. We turned a shoulder, where
the stream swept round a curve, and saw we were in the mouth of a
small ravine, dark and sheer-sided. The water brawled along the
bottom, over boulders and through chasms. In front, the slope on
which we stood shaped itself into a low cliff; but halfway
between its summit and the water a ledge, or narrow terrace,
running along the face, was dimly visible.

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