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The Scarlet Pimpernel

Chapter 3 III THE REFUGEES

Word Count: 2531    |    Released on: 28/11/2017

t snatches of news from over the water, which made every honest Englishman's blood boil, and made him long to have "a good go" at those murderers, who had imprisoned their king and all his

ery one in England with unspeakable horror, the daily execution of scores of royalists of good family,

characteristic prudence, did not feel that this country was fit yet to embark on another arduous and costly war. It was for Austria to take the initiative; Austria, whose fairest daughter was even

were royalist and anti-revolutionists to a man, and at this present moment were furious with Pitt for his caution and

pping horse and rider who had stopped at the door of "The Fisherman's Rest," and while the stable boy ran forward to take charge of the horse, pretty Miss Sally w

, covered in drab cloth and dripping with the heavy rain, was round pretty Sally's

who had just entered, whilst worthy Mr. Jellyband came bustling forward, eager, ale

s, "but you are growing prettier and prettier every time I see you-and my honest friend, Jellyban

ord and his dislike of that particular type

dly wherever he went. A good sportsman, a lively companion, a courteous, well-bred man of the world, with not too much brains to spoil his temper, he was a universal favourite in London drawing-rooms or in

and dry himself: as he did so, he cast a quick, somewhat suspicious glance at the two strangers, who had quietly resu

turned to Mr. Hempseed, who was r

pseed, and how

t can you 'xpect with this 'ere government favourin' them rascals

least those they can get hold of, worse luck! But we have got some fri

these words, as if he threw a defiant look

to your friends, so I've hear

tony's hand fell warnin

and instinctively once again

y I knew we were among friends. That gentleman over there is as true and loyal a subject of King George as you are you

e as an undertaker, for I vow I neve

he melancholy of his bearing-but he is a friend, nevertheless, I'll vouch for that-and you w

ntony, who evidently did not care to discuss the subject with his

and no one coming,

stwa

rdship would ob

is

and his lady will be here present

eried Lord Antony,

g over to France to-day in the DAY DREAM, which is Sir Percy's yacht, and Sir Percy and my lady

, unless that supper is not the very best which Miss Sally can

ting the table for supper. And very gay and inviting it looked, with a large bunch of bril

all I lay fo

ten at least-our friends will be tired, and, I hope, hungry

ly, as a distant clatter of horses and wheels cou

at the little bit of mirror which hung on the wall, and worthy Mr. Jellyband bustled out in order to give the first welcome himself to his distinguished guests. Only the

the door on your right," sa

rd Antony, joyfully; "off with you, my pretty Sa

and, who was profuse in his bows and welcomes, a party of

tony, effusively, as he came eagerly forward wi

I think," said one of the ladies, s

iously kissed the hands of both the ladies, then tur

f their travelling cloaks, and both turned, wit

still profuse with his respectful salutations, arranged one or two chairs around the fire. Mr. Hempseed, touching his fo

tic hands to the warmth of the blaze, and looked with unspeakable gratitude first at Lord Antony, then at one

esse," replied Lord Antony, "and that you have

e said, while her eyes filled with tears, "and we

y sufferings nobly endured marked in the handsome, aristocratic face, with its wealt

foulkes, proved an entertaining

lf. How could my children and I ever show

, brown, and full of tears, looked up from the fire and sought those of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, who had drawn near to the hearth and to her; then, as

curiosity at the great hearth, the oak rafters, and the yokels with

eplied Sir Andrew, smiling, "b

face. She said nothing, and Sir Andrew too was silent, yet those two young people understood one a

t Jellyband. Where is that pretty wench of yours and the dish of soup? Zooks,

threw open the door that led to the kitchen and shouted l

the doorway carrying a gigantic tureen, from which ro

ted Lord Antony, merrily, as he galla

dded ceremoniously, as he led

and to finish smoking their pipes elsewhere. Only the two strangers stayed on, quietly and unconcernedly playing their game of dominoes a

te de Tournay was scarce nineteen, a beardless boy, on whom terrible tragedies which were being enacted in his own country had made but little impression. He was el

he continued to ogle Sally with marke

through Mr. Harry Waite's clenched teeth. Only respect for "the quality," and notab

interposed Lord Antony with a laugh, "and do not, I pray, b

glasses and putting chairs straight. Sally waited, ready to hand round the soup. Mr. Harry Waite's friends had at last succeeded

n, commanding accents f

e young Englishman's eyes to dwell upon her sweet face, and his hand, as if unconsciously, to rest upon hers. Her mother'

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