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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

With wonder and admiration, Alleyne, leaning over the
bulwarks, gazed at the forest of masts, the swarm of boats
darting hither and thither on the bosom of the broad curving
stream, and the gray crescent-shaped city which stretched with
many a tower and minaret along the western shore. Never had he
in his quiet life seen so great a town, nor was there in the
whole of England, save London alone, one which might match it in
size or in wealth. Here came the merchandise of all the fair
countries which are watered by the Garonne and the Dordogne--the
cloths of the south, the skins of Guienne, the wines of the
Medoc--to be borne away to Hull, Exeter, Dartmouth, Bristol or
Chester, in exchange for the wools and woolfels of England. Here
too dwelt those famous smelters and welders who had made the
Bordeaux steel the most trusty upon earth, and could give a
temper to lance or to sword which might mean dear life to its
owner. Alleyne could see the smoke of their forges reeking up
in the clear morning air. The storm had died down now to a
gentle breeze, which wafted to his ears the long-drawn stirring
bugle-calls which sounded from the ancient ramparts.


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