Here was the stone
shaped like a closed hand. He put the ransom between the stone fingers
and the stone palm. There was no word with it. Senor Nobody had no
name. He turned and strode back to the horses, mounted, and with Gil
rode from the naked, sunny plain.
CHAPTER XXVI
The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle lay a year in the future. Yet in Paris,
under certain conditions and auspices, Scot or Englishman might dwell
in security enough. The Jacobite remnant, foe to the British
government, found France its best harbor. A quietly moving Scots
laird, not Jacobite, yet might be lumped by the generality with those
forfeited Scots gentlemen who, having lost all in a cause urged and
supported by France, now, without scruple, took from King Louis a
pension that put food in their mouths, coats on their backs, roofs
over their heads. Alexander Jardine, knowing the city, finding quiet
lodgings in a quiet street, established himself in Paris. It was
winter now, cold, bright weather.
In old days he had possessed not a few acquaintances in this city. A
circle of thinkers, writers, painters, had powerfully attracted him.
Circumstances brought him now again into relation with one or two of
this group. He did not seek them as formerly he had done. But neither
could he be said to avoid companionship when it came his way.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278