FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33  
34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   >>   >|  
dy, he exercised himself for a while, warding off imaginary cuts and thrusts, lunging at the wall, and giving his muscles play; then he took his master-key and went through the garden leisurely; without hurrying, mark you. "Cool and calm--British courage, that is the true sort, gentlemen." At the garden end he opened the heavy iron door, violently and abruptly so that it should slam against the outer wall. If "they" had been skulking behind it, you may wager they would have been jam. Unhappily, they were not there. The way being open, out Tartarin would sally, quickly glancing to the right and left, ere banging the door to and fastening it smartly with double-locking. Then, on the way. Not so much as a cat upon the Avignon road--all the doors closed, and no lights in the casements. All was black, except for the parish lamps, well spaced apart, blinking in the river mist. Calm and proud, Tartarin of Tarascon marched on in the night, ringing his heels with regularity, and sending sparks out of the paving-stones with the ferule of his stick. Whether in avenues, streets, or lanes, he took care to keep in the middle of the road--an excellent method of precaution, allowing one to see danger coming, and, above all, to avoid any droppings from windows, as happens after dark in Tarascon and the Old Town of Edinburgh. On seeing so much prudence in Tartarin, pray do not conclude that Tartarin had any fear--dear, no! he only was on his guard. The best proof that Tartarin was not scared is, that instead of going to the club by the shortest cut, he went over the town by the longest and darkest way round, through a mass of vile, paltry alleys, at the mouth of which the Rhone could be seen ominously gleaming. The poor knight constantly hoped that, beyond the turn of one of these cut-throats' haunts, "they" would leap from the shadow and fall on his back. I warrant you, "they" would have been warmly received, though; but, alack! by reason of some nasty meanness of destiny, never indeed did Tartarin of Tarascon enjoy the luck to meet any ugly customers--not so much as a dog or a drunken man--nothing at all! Still, there were false alarms somewhiles. He would catch a sound of steps and muffled voices. "Ware hawks!" Tartarin would mutter, and stop short, as if taking root on the spot, scrutinising the gloom, sniffing the wind, even glueing his ear to the ground in the orthodox Red Indian mode. The steps would draw nearer, and
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33  
34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

Tartarin

 

Tarascon

 

garden

 

throats

 

ominously

 

constantly

 
Edinburgh
 

gleaming

 
knight
 
scared

conclude

 
shortest
 
nearer
 

prudence

 
paltry
 

alleys

 
haunts
 

longest

 
darkest
 

voices


muffled

 
mutter
 

alarms

 

somewhiles

 

glueing

 

Indian

 

orthodox

 

ground

 

sniffing

 

taking


scrutinising

 

reason

 

received

 
warmly
 
shadow
 

warrant

 

customers

 

drunken

 

destiny

 

meanness


skulking

 

abruptly

 
opened
 

violently

 
glancing
 
banging
 

quickly

 
Unhappily
 
gentlemen
 

thrusts