Beyond him it
struck heavily and audibly. Alice fell limp and motionless to the
soft wet ground, where cold puddles of water were splintered over
with ice. She lay pitifully crumpled, one arm outstretched in the
moonlight. Father Beret heard the bullet hit her, and turned in
time to see her stagger backward with a hand convulsively pressed
over her heart. Her face, slightly upturned as she reeled, gave
the moon a pallid target for its strengthening rays. Sweet,
beautiful, its rigid features flashed for a second and then half
turned away from the light and went down.
Father Beret uttered a short, thin cry and moved as if to go to
the fallen girl, but just then he saw Hamilton's sword pass over
again into his right hand, and knew that there was no time for
anything but death or fight. The good priest did not shirk what
might have made the readiest of soldiers nervous. Hamilton was
known to be a great swordsman and proud of the distinction. Father
Beret had seen him fence with Farnsworth in remarkable form,
touching him at will, and in ministering to the men in the fort he
had heard them talk of the Governor's incomparable skill.
A priest is, in perhaps all cases but the last out of a thousand,
a man of peace, not to be forced into a fight; but the exceptional
one out of the ten hundred it is well not to stir up if you are
looking for an easy victim.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354