But whilst I hesitated I saw her start back with a little cry of terror.
Standing in the arched doorway through which the mulatto had but now
passed was a man cloaked, hatted, booted and spurred as for the road. At
her cry he doffed his hat and ...
My dears, I shall never be able to draw for you the hideous death-mask
this man was wearing for a face. Seamed and scarred, shriveled and livid
in purple and crimson welts, you would think a nine-thonged whip of fire
had scourged out every semblance of comeliness, leaving only the
skeleton frame on which to hang this ghastly caricature of a human face.
Fearing him not at all, I could scarce forbear a shudder at the sight of
this walking death-mask of the libertine, Sir Francis Falconnet.
And if his face were terrifying in repose, 'twas fair demoniac when he
laughed.
"Ha!" he said, bowing again in a mockery of politeness. "You are
surprised, Mistress Margery; you heard my Lord's order and thought I
would be by now some miles on the road to Salisbury?"
"If you were the loyal soldier you should be, sir," she said, drawing
herself up proudly, "you would be at the head of your troop, as his
Lordship directed." And then, with a gesture that was most queenly:
"Stand aside, Sir--Libertine, and let me pass."
His answer was another mocking laugh, and he stepped within to close
the door and lock it. When he turned to front her again his face was the
face of a tormented devil.
"By God! you think too lightly of me, Mistress Margery.
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