Max Pemberton

“ The voice was the voice of a man who knew no emotions, of a man of iron. Yet could Louis have searched the heart of the Jesuit, courage would have rushed upon him like a freshet. Apprehension, racking fear, the thought of Gabrielle soon to lie in de Guyon's arms, an imagination depicting every phase of torture and of suffering that might be his—all these were contesting victory with the outward calm which the Jesuit displayed. ”

“ THE KING SUPS. The Jesuit wore his cassock, and a black cape about his shoulders. His step was like the step of a cat, as he crossed the room and stooped in the shadow of an angle, wherefrom he could observe the king. Never in his life had he embarked upon a venture of which the outcome was so doubtful; never had he more need of his mind and of his courage. One cry uttered by Louis, one false step of his own, and the end would be swift. He stood alone to fight the battle of the woman ”

“ As the hour struck, the king, who had warred long with his passion, found himself able to subdue it no longer. Determined that he would stake all upon the hazard, he sprang of a sudden from his chair and ran to the window of the room. The court without echoed his alarm; the whole palace seemed to awake from sleep. Armed men burst into the room where the Jesuit had been; attendants, officials, valets pressed one upon another in the gallery.
"The priest—the priest—death to the assassin—seize the priest!" ”