Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
on the principle, possibly, of the more birds of prey, the less gorging of each individual crop.
As for O'Rourke, he returned their greetings with scarcely less frigidity of manner. He constrained himself to bare civility, but was unable to feign any considerable pleasure because of the association in which he found himself.
Lemercier indicated a chair, into which the Irishman dropped unwillingly; had he followed his own inclinations he would have delayed not one moment ere leaving before he knew more, before pledging himself and his sword to the service of this gathering of blackguards.
But he recognized that he was, as he put it, "in for it"; he had given his word to his princess, and the desire to serve her outweighed his personal tastes in the matter.
Le petit Lemercier invited the Irishman to help himself to the wine and cigars which were set out upon a convenient buffet, then concerned himself no more for the comfort of his guest. He got upon his feet unsteadily—it became momentarily more apparent that he was drinking too deeply for the clearness of his brain—and began to talk in a halting fashion, leaving the half of his sentences unfinished and inconclusive.
But the attention he received was flattering; with the possible exception of the prince, his sycophants hung upon his words with breathless interest. Only O'Rourke permitted, his eyes to stray from the face of his host to the countenances of the others, mentally inventorying their characters, cataloguing them for future reference.
Monsieur le Prince de Grandlieu he had not expected to like; what he saw of him did not tend to remove the prejudice—a slim, tall figure of a man, ridiculously padded at every possible point, and corseted so that his figure resembled a
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