These Old Shades E-Book

Georgette Heyer

• Herausgeber: Raven Book
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Justin “Satanas” Alastair, the reclusive Duke of Avon, is known for his ruthless reputation and dark past. One night, while in Paris, the Duke encounters a mistreated street urchin named Léon Bonnard. Taking pity on the boy, the Duke purchases him and makes him a page, unaware that Léon is actually a young woman named Léonie, the daughter of the Comte de Saint-Vire who had once wronged him. Alastair plans to use his new personal servant to get his revenge on an old enemy

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

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IV

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Justin “Satanas” Alastair, the reclusive Duke of Avon, is known for his ruthless reputation and dark past. One night, while in Paris, the Duke encounters a mistreated street urchin named Léon Bonnard. Taking pity on the boy, the Duke purchases him and makes him a page, unaware that Léon is actually a young woman named Léonie, the daughter of the Comte de Saint-Vire who had once wronged him. Alastair plans to use his new personal servant to get his revenge on an old enemy.

… This Age I grant (and grant with pride)

Is varied, rich, eventful:

But if you touch its weaker side,

Deplorably resentful:

Belaud it, and it takes your praise

With air of calm conviction:

Condemn it, and at once you raise

A storm of contradiction.

Whereas with these old shades of mine,

Their ways and dress delight me;

And should I trip by word or line,

They cannot well indict me. …

Austin Dodson, Epilogue to Eighteenth-Century Vignettes

These Old Shades

IV

His Grace of Avon Becomes Further Acquainted with His Page

For Léon the days passed swiftly, each one teeming with some new excitement. Never in his life had he seen such sights as now met his eyes. He was dazzled by the new life spread before him; from living in a humble, dirty tavern, he was transported suddenly into gorgeous surroundings, fed with strange foods, clad in fine clothes, and taken into the midst of aristocratic Paris. All at once life seemed to consist of silks and diamonds, bright lights, and awe-inspiring figures. Ladies, whose fingers were covered with rings, and whose costly brocades held an elusive perfume, would stop to smile at him sometimes; great gentlemen with powdered wigs and high heels would flip his head with careless fingers as they passed. Even Monseigneur sometimes spoke to him.

Fashionable Paris grew accustomed to see him long before he became accustomed to his new existence. After a while people ceased to stare at him when he came in Avon’s wake, but it was some time before he ceased to gaze on all that met his eyes, in wondering appreciation.

To the amazement of Avon’s household, he still persisted in his worship of the Duke. Nothing could shake him from his standpoint, and if one of the lackeys vented his outraged feelings below-stairs in a tirade against Avon, Léon was up in arms at once, blind rage taking possession of him. Since the Duke had ordained that none should lay violent hands on his page, save at his express command, the lackeys curbed their tongues in Léon’s presence, for he was over-ready with his dagger, and they dare not disobey the Duke’s orders. Gaston, the valet, felt that this hot partisanship was sadly wrong; that any should defend the Duke struck forcibly at his sense of propriety, and more than once he tried to convince the page that it was the duty of any self-respecting menial to loathe the Duke.

“Mon petit,” he said firmly, “it is ridiculous. It is unthinkable. Même, it is outrageous. It is against all custom. The Duke, he is not human. Some call him Satanas, and mon Dieu, they have reason!”

“I have never seen Satan,” answered Léon, from a large chair where he sat with his feet tucked under him. “But I do not think that Monseigneur is like him.” He reflected. “But if he is like the devil no doubt I should like the devil very much. My brother says I am a child of the devil.”

“That is shame!” said fat Madame Dubois, the housekeeper, shocked.

“Faith, he has the devil’s own temper!” chuckled Gregory, a footman.

“But listen to me, you!” insisted Gaston. “M. le Duc is of a hardness! Ah, but who should know better than I? I tell you, moi qui vous parle, if he would but be enraged all would go well. If he would throw his mirror at my head I would say naught! That is a gentleman, a noble! But the Duc! Bah! He speaks softly—oh, so softly!—and his eyes they are almost shut, while his voice—voilà, I shudder!” He did shudder, but revived at the murmur of applause. “And you, petit! When has he spoken to you as a boy? He speaks to you as his dog! Ah, but it is imbecile to admire such a man! It is not to be believed!”

“I am his dog. He is kind to me, and I love him,” said Léon firmly.

“Kind! Madame, you hear?” Gaston appealed to the housekeeper, who sighed, and folded her hands.

“He is very young,” she said.

“Now I will tell you of a thing!” Gaston exclaimed. “This Duc, what did he do, think you, three years ago? You see this hôtel? It is fine, it is costly! Eh bien! Me, I have served the Duke for six years, so you may know that I speak truth. Three years ago he was poor! There were debts and mortgages. Oh, we lived the same, bien sûr; the Alastairs are always thus. We had always the same magnificence, but there were only debts behind the splendour. Me, I know. Then we go to Vienna. As ever the Duc he play for great stakes: that is the way of his house. At first he loses. You would not say he cared, for still he smiles. That too is his way. Then there comes a young nobleman, very rich, very joyous. He plays with the Duc. He loses; he suggests a higher stake; the Duc, he agrees. What would you? Still that young noble loses. On and on, until at last—pouf! It is over! That fortune, it has changed hands. The young man, he is ruined—absolument! The Duc, he goes away. He smiles—ah, that smile! The young man fights a duel with pistols a little later, and he fires wide, wide! Because he was ruined he chose Death! And the Duc”—Gaston waved his hands—“he comes to Paris and buys this hôtel with that young noble’s fortune!”