"gp46w10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Parker Gilbert)

"Why, of course!" the girl replied with a flash of excitement. "But
he's so dark, and foreign-looking! What Belward is he?"

"I do not know yet, my dear."

"I shall be up when you come back. But mind, don't leave just after
dinner. Stay and talk; you must tell me everything that's said and done
--and about the stranger."




CHAPTER II

IN WHICH HE CLAIMS HIS OWN

Meanwhile, without a word, Gaston had mounted, ridden to the castle,
and passed through the open gates into the court-yard. Inside he paused.
In the main building many lights were burning. There came a rattle of
wheels behind him, and he shifted to let a carriage pass. Through the
window of the brougham he could see the shimmer of satin, lace, and soft
white fur, and he had an instant's glance of a pretty face.

The carriage drew up to the steps, and presently three ladies and a
brusque gentleman passed into the hall-way, admitted by powdered footmen.
The incident had a manner, an air, which struck Gaston, he knew not why.
Perhaps it was the easy finesse of ceremonial. He looked at Brillon. He
had seen him sit arms folded like that, looking from the top of a bluff
down on an Indian village or a herd of buffaloes. There was wonder, but
no shyness or agitation, on his face; rather the naive, naked look of a
child. Belward laughed.

"Come, Brillon; we are at home."

He rode up to the steps, Jacques following. A foot man appeared and
stared. Gaston looked down on him neutrally, and dismounted. Jacques
did the same. The footman still stared. Another appeared behind.
Gaston eyed the puzzled servant calmly.

"Why don't you call a groom?" he presently said. There was a cold gleam
in his eye.

The footman shrank.

"Yessir, yessir," he said confusedly, and signalled. The other footman
came down, and made as if to take the bridle. Gaston waved him back.
None too soon, for the horse lunged at him.

"A rub down, a pint of beer, and water and feed in an hour, and I'll come
to see him myself late to-night." Jacques had loosened the saddle-bags