Rafael Sabatini

“ Angelo started as from a reverie, and proceeded, more leisurely, to make ready. A moment he stood, holding the rose to his lips, breathing the fragrance of it; he was loath to put it down; yet he needed both his hands, one for his sword, the other for his dagger; for Beltrame awaited him, doubly armed. At last he solved the difficulty, and set the stem of the flower between his teeth.
If God willed that he should die that evening, at least her first love token should be with him in his last moments, its perfume—fond emblem of her soul—should sweeten for him his last breath on earth. ”

“ I had come to Fifanti's house as a student of humanities and divinities; all that I had learnt there had been devilries culminating in this hour's work. And all through no fault of that poor, mean, ugly pedant, who indeed had been my victim—whom I had robbed of honour and of life.
Never man felt self-horror as I felt it then, self-loathing and self-contempt. And then, whilst the burden of it all, the horror of it all was full upon me, a soft hand touched my shoulder, and a soft, quivering voice murmured urgently in my ear:
“Agostino, we must go; we must go.” ”

“ Master Leigh protested.
"'Tis a comforting one," said Sir Oliver, "and it should comfort such a sinner as thou."
But Master Leigh refused to be comforted. "Oh!" he groaned miserably. "I would that I did not believe in God!"
"Your disbelief could no more abolish Him than can your fear create Him," replied Sir Oliver. "But your mood being what it is, were it not best you prayed?"
"Will not you pray with me?" quoth that rascal in his sudden fear of the hereafter.
"I shall do better," said Sir Oliver at last. "I shall pray for you—to Sir John Killigrew, that your life be spared." ”

“ It was the more remarkable in that Sinibaldi’s princess—a stately, blonde woman, whose stomacher was a scintillating cuirass of gems—was seated on Cesare’s right hand, between the sober black of the President of the Council and the scarlet of the handsome Cardinal-legate.
The young Duke lounged in his great chair, a tall, supple gentleman of some five-and-twenty years, resplendent in a close-fitting doublet of cloth-of-gold that was edged with miniver. His pale, beautiful face was thoughtful, and his tapering, jewelled fingers strayed ever and anon to the point of his tawny beard. ”

“ Least of all did he like the looks of Barbaresco who confronted him, oily and falsely suave of manner.
'Where have you been, Master Bellarion?'
He realised that he had need of his wits.
He looked round with surprise and contempt in his stare.
'Oh, yes, you're conspirators to the life,' he told them. 'You see a spy in every neighbour, a betrayal in every act. Oh, you have eyes; but no wit to inform your vision. God help those who trust you! ”

“ Marry me, and Caryll is not only free to depart, but no evidence shall be laid against him. I swear it! Refuse me, and he hangs as surely—as surely as you and I talk together here this moment.”
Cold eyes scathed him with contempt. “God!” she cried. “What manner of monster are you, my lord? To speak so—to speak of marriage to me, and to speak of hanging a man who is son to that same father of yours who lies above stairs, not yet turned cold. Are you human at all?”
“Ay—and in nothing so human as in my love for you, Hortensia.” ”

“ It is de Savignon's turn to tremble now, and as a great burst of laughter greets the jester's sally, his complexion is of a greyish tint and his teeth are clenched in anger, noting which, Kuoni continues pitilessly:
"Do you not see the humour of it, my lord? Why look so glum? Bah! You weary me; there is no more wit in your soul than milk in an oyster!"
And with an easy laugh which contains almost a ring of contempt, the jester moves away to let others feel the sting of his tongue, from which none, save the King, are sacred. ”

“ How poor are the Lord of Camerino's spies! It is the common talk of Fabriano. But thou knewest it was to be attempted, and what the price the Lord of Milan—yet another master of thine—was to have paid him. Thou damned, infernal traitor, darest so boldly bear me messages from Gian Paolo? Aye, that thou darest, knowing that as an ambassador thou'rt safe."
"My lord!" cried Malipiero in an anguish of terror, "I knew naught of such a plot."
"I think," said Cesare, "that I hate a liar almost more than an assassin; certainly as much." ”

“ Darnley begged her. “Indeed, there was no doubt of you, who have shown me so much charity in my affliction.” He sighed, and looked at her with melancholy eyes.
“I would the past had been other than it has been between you and me,” he said. “I was too young for kingship, I think. In my green youth I listened to false counsellors, and was quick to jealousy and the follies it begets. Then, when you cast me out and I wandered friendless, a devil took possession of me. Yet, if you will but consent to bury all the past into oblivion, I will make amends, and you shall find me worthier hereafter.” ”

“ Francesco dashed the sweat from his clammy brow, strode briskly to the door, turned the key, and flung it wide.
On the threshold he came face to face with his white-haired uncle, candle in one hand, the inevitable book closed upon his forefinger in the other.
“Francesco!” he exclaimed, and frowned between anger and amazement. “What make you here at such an hour? And what is happening? Why was that door locked?”
Francesco, miraculously self-controlled by now, his face a mask of sorrowing concern, drew his uncle by the arm into the chamber, and closed the door. ”

“ The next instant I turned cold and sick. My desperate effort had been all for nothing. In my hand I was left with the bronze hilt of his great poniard; the blade had broken off against the mesh of steel the coward wore beneath his finery.
There was a rush of feet about us, a piercing scream from Madonna Paola, and it was to her that I owed my life in that grim moment. A dozen blades were naked and would have transfixed me as I lay, but that she covered my body with her own and bade them strike at me through her. ”

“ That Mademoiselle de Marsac is not your betrothed?”
“Yes—by my every hope of Heaven!” I cried passionately.
She continued to survey me with that quiet smile of mocking scorn.
“I have heard it said,” quoth she, “that the greatest liars are ever those that are readiest to take oath.” Then, with a sudden gasp of loathing, “I think you have dropped something, monsieur,” said she, pointing to the ground. And without waiting for more, she swung round and left me.
Face upwards at my feet lay the miniature that poor Lesperon had entrusted to me in his dying moments. ”

“ The agony of this strong man, the broken pleading of one whom he had ever known arrogant and strong had no power to touch his mean, selfish mind, consumed as it was by the contemplation of his undoing—magnified a hundredfold—which this man had wrought.
“You have ruined my life,” was all he said.
“I will rebuild it, Jocelyn,” cried Galliard eagerly. “I have friends in France—friends high in power who lack neither the means nor the will to aid me. You are a soldier, Jocelyn.”
“As much a soldier as I'm a saint,” sneered Hogan to himself. ”

“ The young man's eyes blazed with passion. "Would I? Let her say that she will marry me, and I am her slave."
"Slave is the right word—a slave in hell."
"It would never be hell to me where she was, whatever she had done. I love her, man, I am not like you. I love her, do you hear me?"
"I have known, it for some time," said André-Louis. "Though I didn't suspect your attack of the disease to be quite so violent. Well, God knows I loved her, too, quite enough to share your thirst for killing. For myself, the blue blood of La Tour d'Azyr would hardly quench this thirst. ”