The Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Monsieur Beaucaire
Author: Booth Tarkington
Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1983]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE ***
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE
by Booth Tarkington
Chapter One
The young Frenchman did very well what he had planned to do. His guess
that the Duke would cheat proved good. As the unshod half-dozen figures
that had been standing noiselessly in the entryway stole softly into the
shadows of the chamber, he leaned across the table and smilingly plucked
a card out of the big Englishman's sleeve.
"Merci, M. le Duc!" he laughed, rising and stepping back from the table.
The Englishman cried out, "It means the dirty work of silencing you with
my bare hands!" and came at him.
"Do not move," said M. Beaucaire, so sharply that the other paused.
"Observe behind you."
The Englishman turned, and saw what trap he had blundered into; then
stood transfixed, impotent, alternately scarlet with rage and white
with the vital shame of discovery. M. Beaucaire remarked, indicating the
silent figures by a polite wave of the hand, "Is it not a compliment
to monsieur that I procure six large men to subdue him? They are quite
devote' to me, and monsieur is alone. Could it be that he did not wish
even his lackeys to know he play with the yo'ng Frenchman who Meestaire
Nash does not like in the pomp-room? Monsieur is unfortunate to have
come on foot and alone to my apartment."
The Duke's mouth foamed over with chaotic revilement. His captor
smiled brightly, and made a slight gesture, as one who brushes aside
a boisterous insect. With the same motion he quelled to stony quiet a
resentful impetus of his servants toward the Englishman.
"It's murder, is it, you carrion!" finished the Duke.
M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver. "What words! No, no,
no! No killing! A such word to a such host! No, no, not mur-r-der; only
disgrace!" He laughed a clear, light laugh with a rising inflection,
seeming to launch himself up
|