"And our own young master was the first royalist who put his foot in
Saumur?" asked Momont, who had already received the information he
required four or five times, and on each occasion had drunk Henri's
health in about half-a-pint of wine.
"Indeed he was," said Chapeau, "the very first. You don't think he'd
have let any one go before him."
"Here's his health then, and God bless him!" said Momont. "It was I
first showed him how to fire a pistol; and very keen he was at taking
to gunpowder."
"Indeed, and indeed he was," said the housekeeper. "When he was no more
than twelve years old, not nigh as big as the little Chevalier, he let
off the big blunderbuss in my bed-room, and I on my knees at prayers the
while. God bless his sweet face, I always knew he'd make a great
soldier."
"And don't you remember," said the laundress, "how he blew up
Mademoiselle Agatha, making her sit on a milk-pan turned over, with a
whole heap of gunpowder stuffed underneath, and she only six or seven
years old?"
"Did he though," said the page, "blow up Mademoiselle Agatha?"
"Indeed he did, and blew every scrap of hair off her head and eyebrows.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348