The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Refugees, by Arthur Conan Doyle

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Title: The Refugees

Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

Release Date: March 2, 2004 [eBook #11413]

Language: English

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REFUGEES***

THE REFUGEES

A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS

A. CONAN DOYLE

CONTENTS.

PART I.

IN THE OLD WORLD.

Chapter

I. THE MAN FROM AMERICA.

II. A MONARCH IN DESHABILLE

III. THE HOLDING OF THE DOOR

IV. THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE

V. CHILDREN OF BELIAL

VI. A HOUSE OF STRIFE

VII. THE NEW WORLD AND THE OLD

VIII. THE RISING SUN

IX. LE ROI S'AMUSE

X. AN ECLIPSE AT VERSAILLES

XI. THE SUN REAPPEARS

XII. THE KING RECEIVES

XIII. THE KING HAS IDEAS

XIV. THE LAST CARD

XV. THE MIDNIGHT MISSION

XVI. "WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES"

XVII. THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC

XVIII. A NIGHT OF SURPRISES

XIX. IN THE KING'S CABINET

XX. THE TWO FRANCOISES

XXI. THE MAN IN THE CALECHE

XXII. THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC

XXIII. THE FALL OF THE CATINATS

PART II.

IN THE NEW WORLD.

Chapter

XXIV. THE START OF THE "GOLDEN ROD"

XXV. A BOAT OF THE DEAD

XXVI. THE LAST PORT

XXVII. A DWINDLING ISLAND

XXVIII. IN THE POOL OF QUEBEC

XXIX. THE VOICE AT THE PORT-HOLE

XXX. THE INLAND WATERS

XXXI. THE HAIRLESS MAN

XXXII. THE LORD OF SAINTE MARIE

XXXIII. THE SLAYING OF BROWN MOOSE

XXXIV. THE MEN OF BLOOD

XXXV. THE TAPPING OF DEATH

XXXVI. THE TAKING OF THE STOCKADE

XXXVII. THE COMING OF THE FRIAR

XXXVIII. THE DINING-HALL OF SAINTE MARIE

XXXIX. THE TWO SWIMMERS

XL. THE END

NOTE ON THE HUEGENOTS AND THEIR DISPERSION

NOTE ON THE FUTURE OF LOUIS, MADAME DE MAINTENON, AND MADAME DE MONTESPAN

CHAPTER I.

THE MAN FROM AMERICA.

It was the sort of window which was common in Paris about the end of the seventeenth century. It was high, mullioned, with a broad transom across the centre, and above the middle of the transom a tiny coat of arms—three caltrops gules upon a field argent—let into the diamond-paned glass. Outside there projected a stout iron rod, from which hung a gilded miniature of a bale of wool which swung and squeaked with every puff of wind. Beyond that again were the houses of the other side, high, narrow, and prim, slashed with diagonal wood-work in front, and topped with a bristle of sharp gables and corner turrets. Between were the cobble-stones of the Rue St. Martin and the clatter of innumerable feet.

Inside, the window was furnished with a broad bancal of brown stamped Spanish leather, where the family might recline and have an eye from behind the curtains on all that was going forward in the busy world beneath them. Two of them sat there now, a man and a woman, but their backs were turned to the spectacle, and their faces to the large and richly furnished room. From time to time they stole a glance at each other, and their eyes told that they needed no other sight to make them happy.

Nor was it to be wondered at, for they were a well-favoured pair. She was very young, twenty at the most, with a face which was pale, indeed, and yet of a brilliant pallor, which was so clear and fresh, and carried with it such a suggestion of purity and innocence, that one would not wish its maiden grace to be marred by an intrusion of colour. Her features were delicate and sweet, and her blue-black hair and long dark eyelashes formed a piquant contrast to her dreamy gray eyes and her ivory skin. In her whole expression there was something quiet and subdued, which was accentuated by her simple dress of black taffeta, and by the little jet brooch and bracelet which were her sole ornaments. Such was Adele Catinat, the only daughter of the famous Huguenot cloth-merchant.

But if her dress was sombre, it was atoned for by the magnificence of her companion. He was a man who might have been ten years her senior, with a keen soldier face, small well-marked features, a carefully trimmed black moustache, and a dark hazel eye which might harden to command a man, or soften to supplicate a woman, and be successful at either. His coat was of sky-blue, slashed across with silver braidings, and with broad silver shoulder-straps on either side. A vest of white calamanca peeped out from beneath it, and knee-breeches of the same disappeared into high polished boots with gilt spurs upon the heels. A silver-hilted rapier and a plumed cap lying upon a settle beside him completed a costume which was a badge of honour to the wearer, for any Frenchman would have recognised it as being that of an officer in the famous Blue Guard of Louis the Fourteenth. A trim, dashing soldier he looked, with his curling black hair and well-poised head. Such he had proved himself before now in the field, too, until the name of Amory de Catinat had become conspicuous among the thousands of the valiant lesser noblesse who had flocked into the service of the king.

They were first cousins, these two, and there was just sufficient resemblance in the clear-cut features to recall the relationship. De Catinat was sprung from a noble Huguenot family, but having lost his parents early he had joined the army, and had worked his way without influence and against all odds to his present position. His father's younger brother, however, finding every path to fortune barred to him through the persecution to which men of his faith were already subjected, had dropped the "de" which implied his noble descent, and he had taken to trade in the city of Paris, with such success that he was now one of the richest and most prominent citizens of the town. It was under his roof that the guardsman now sat, and it was his only daughter whose white hand he held in his own.

"Tell me, Adele," said he, "why do you look troubled?"

"I am not troubled, Amory,"

"Come, there is just one little line between those curving brows. Ah, I can read you, you see, as a shepherd reads the sky."

"It is nothing, Amory, but—"

"But what?"

"You