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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

What else was
lacking? The sun shone cheerily on the polished floor; the air,
freshened by the rain which had fallen in the night, entered
freely through the open doorway. A few bees lingering with the
summer hummed outside. The fire crackled bravely; an old hound,
blind and past work, lay warming its hide on the hearth. I could
think of nothing more, and I stood and stood and watched the man
set out the table and spread the cloth.
'For how many, Monsieur?' he asked in a scared tone.
'For five,' I answered; and I could not help smiling at myself.
For what would Zaton's say could it see Berault turned housewife?
There was a white glazed cup, an old-fashioned piece of the
second Henry's time, standing on a shelf. I took it down and put
some late flowers in it, and set it in the middle of the table,
and stood off myself to look at it. But a moment later, thinking
I heard them coming, I hurried it away in a kind of panic,
feeling on a sudden ashamed of the thing. The alarm proved to be
false, however; and then again, taking another turn, I set the
piece back. I had done nothing so foolish for--for more years
than I like to count.


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