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The Pavilion

           Itwasastrangething,andonewhichmaded’Artagnantremblefromthesoleofhisfoottotherootsofhishair,tofindthatthissoftlight,thiscalmlamp,enlightenedasceneoffearfuldisorder.Oneofthewindowswasbroken,thedoorofthechamberhadbeenbeateninandhung,splitintwo,onitshinges.Atable,whichhadbeencoveredwithanelegantsupper,wasoverturned.Thedecantersbrokeninpieces,andthefruitscrushed,strewedthefloor.Everythingintheapartmentgaveevidenceofaviolentanddesperatestruggle.D’Artagnanevenfanciedhecouldrecognizeamidthisstrangedisorder,fragmentsofgarments,andsomebloodyspotsstainingtheclothandthecurtains.Hehastenedtodescendintothestreet,withafrightfulbeatingathisheart;hewishedtoseeifhecouldfindothertracesofviolence.

           Thelittlesoftlightshoneoninthecalmnessofthenight.d’Artagnanthenperceivedathingthathehadnotbeforeremarkedfornothinghadledhimtotheexaminationthattheground,trampledhereandhoofmarkedthere,presentedconfusedtracesofmenandhorses.Besides,thewheelsofacarriage,whichappearedtohavecomefromParis,hadmadeadeepimpressioninthesoftearth,whichdidnotextendbeyondthepavilion,butturnedagaintowardParis.

           Atlengthd’Artagnan,inpursuinghisresearches,foundnearthewallawoman’stornglove.Thisglove,whereverithadnottouchedthemuddyground,wasofirreproachableodor.Itwasoneofthoseperfumedglovesthatloversliketosnatchfromaprettyhand.

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Roboto Lora
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