"I'm older than you and the times are unusual. When you reach Paris you
and Mademoiselle Lannes will be married."
John was still silent.
"And you will take her to America for the present, or at least Until the
war is over. Ah, well! You're a happy man! Youth and the springtime!
Beauty and love! Kings can procure no more and seldom as much! I think
I'll walk in the air a little and have a smoke."
"And I," said John, "will go to sleep. I've a tiny room on the ground
floor, but it's big enough to hold me. Good night."
"Good night, Mr. Scott."
There was only a single window in John's little room, but before
undressing he opened it and stood there to breathe the cool night air
for a while. It looked upon the forest that ran up the slope of the
mountain, and the odor of the pines was very pleasant. Looking idly at
the trunks and the foliage he saw a shadow pass into the depths of the
forest and something, a pulse in his temple, perhaps, struck a warning
note.
A shiver ran down his back and his hair lifted, as if touched with
electric sparks. Acting at once under impulse he touched the pistol
inside the pocket of his jacket to see that it was all right, and
slipped out of the room.
He had marked the point at which the shadow disappeared in the forest
and he followed it on light foot. He had been awakened as if a stroke of
lightning had blazed suddenly before his eyes, and now his brain was
seething with fierce thoughts, called up by a long chain of incidents,
all at once made complete.
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