



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books






Transcriber's Note:

   1. Page scan source:
      http://books.google.com/books?id=BO4wAAAAYAAJ






                         THE HEART OF DENISE

                           AND OTHER TALES






[Illustration: "DE CLERMONT GAVE MADAME AN INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF THE
DEFENCE OF AMBAZAC MADE BY HER HUSBAND AGAINST THE PRINCE OF CONDE"
Page 39]






                         The Heart of Denise

                           and Other Tales





                                  BY
                           S. LEVETT-YEATS

                 _Author of "The Chevalier d'Auriac_,"
                   "_The Honour of Savelli," etc_.





                               NEW YORK
                       LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
                          LONDON AND BOMBAY
                                 1899






                         Copyright, 1898, by
                           S. LEVETT YEATS.

                              *   *   *

                        _All rights reserved_.





                 ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK.






                              CONTENTS.


THE HEART OF DENISE.

       I. M. de Lorgnac's Price.

      II. The Oratory.

     III. The Spur of Les Eschelles.

      IV. At Ambazac.

       V. M. Le Marquis Leads His Highest Trump.

      VI. At the Sign of the Golden Frog.

     VII. Unmasked.

    VIII. Blaise de Lorgnac.

      IX. La Coquille's Message.

       X. Monsieur le Chevalier is Paid in Full.


THE CAPTAIN MORATTI'S LAST AFFAIR.


       I. "Arcades Ambo."

      II. At "The Devil on Two Sticks."

     III. Felicita.

      IV. Conclusion--The Torre Dolorosa.


THE TREASURE OF SHAGUL.


THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA.


THE DEVIL'S MANUSCRIPT.


       I. The Black Packet.

      II. The Red Trident.

     III. "The Mark of the Beast."


UNDER THE ACHILLES.


THE MADNESS OF SHERE BAHADUR.


REGINE'S APE.


A SHADOW OF THE PAST.





                         THE HEART OF DENISE




                              CHAPTER I.

                        M. DE LORGNAC'S PRICE.


One afternoon I sat alone in the little anteroom before the Queen
Mother's cabinet. In front of me was an open door. The curtains of
violet velvet, spangled with golden lilies, were half drawn, and
beyond extended a long, narrow, and gloomy corridor, leading into the
main salon of the Hotel de Soissons, from which the sound of music and
occasional laughter came to me. My sister maids of honour were there,
doubtless making merry as was their wont with the cavaliers of the
court, and I longed to be with them, instead of watching away the
hours in the little prison, I can call it no less, that led to the
Queen's closet.

In the corridor were two sentries standing as motionless as statues.
They were in shadow, except where here and there a straggling gleam of
light caught their armour with dazzling effect, and M. de Lorgnac, the
lieutenant of the guard, paced slowly up and down the full length of
the passage, twisting his dark moustache, and turning abruptly when he
came within a few feet of the entrance to the anteroom.

I was so dull and wearied that it would have been something even to
talk to M. de Lorgnac, bear though he was, but he took no more notice
of me than if I were a stick or a stone, and yet there were, I do not
know how many, who would have given their ears for a _tete-a-tete_
with Denise de Mieux.

I ought not to have been surprised, for the lieutenant showed no more
favour to any one else than he did to me, and during the year or more
I had been here, enjoying for the first time in my life the gaieties
of the Court, after my days in apron-strings at Lespaille, my uncle de
Tavannes' seat, I had not, nor had a soul as far as I knew, seen M. de
Lorgnac exchange more than a formal bow and a half-dozen words with
any woman. He was poor as a homeless cat, his patrimony, as we heard,
being but a sword and a ruined tower somewhere in the Correze. So, as
he had nothing to recommend him except a tall, straight figure, and a
reputation for bravery--qualities that were shared by a hundred others
with more agreeable manners, we left Monsieur L'Ours, as we nicknamed
him, to himself, and, to say the truth, he did not seem much
discomposed by our neglect.

As for me I hardly noticed his existence, sometimes barely returning
his bow; but often have I caught him observing me gravely with a
troubled look in his grey eyes, and as ill