He took off his
hat, and stammered an excuse--"Come to look at the oak." At this moment
Rose pounced on the purse, and held it up to Josephine. He was caught.
His only chance now was to bolt for the mark and run; but it was not
the notary, it was a novice who lost his presence of mind, or perhaps
thought it rude to run when a lady told him to stand still. All he did
was to crush his face into his two hands, round which his cheeks and
neck now blushed red as blood. Blush? they could both see the color rush
like a wave to the very roots of his hair and the tips of his fingers.
The moment our heroines, who, in that desperation which is one of
the forms of cowardice, had hurled themselves on the foe, saw this,
flash--the quick-witted poltroons exchanged purple lightning over
Edouard's drooping head, and enacted lionesses in a moment.
It was with the quiet composure of lofty and powerful natures that
Josephine opened on him. "Compose yourself, sir; and be so good as
to tell us who you are." Edouard must answer. Now he could not speak
through his hands; and he could not face a brace of tranquil lionesses:
so he took a middle course, removed one hand, and shading himself from
Josephine with the other, he gasped out, "I am--my name is Riviere; and
I--I--ladies!"
"I am afraid we frighten you," said Josephine, demurely.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89