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قراءة كتاب The Tavern Knight
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THE TAVERN KNIGHT
By Rafael Sabatini
CONTENTS
THE TAVERN KNIGHT
CHAPTER I. ON THE MARCH
CHAPTER II. ARCADES AMBO
CHAPTER III. THE LETTER
CHAPTER IV. AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE
CHAPTER V. AFTER WORCESTER FIELD
CHAPTER VI. COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE
CHAPTER VII. THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY
CHAPTER VIII. THE TWISTED BAR
CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN
CHAPTER X. THE ESCAPE
CHAPTER XI. THE ASHBURNS
CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S
CHAPTER XIII. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH
CHAPTER XIV. THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN
CHAPTER XV. JOSEPH'S RETURN
CHAPTER XVI. THE RECKONING
CHAPTER XVII. JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN
CHAPTER XVIII. COUNTER-PLOT
CHAPTER XIX. THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY
CHAPTER XX. THE CONVERTED HOGAN
CHAPTER XXI. THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE
CHAPTER XXII. SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING
CHAPTER XXIII. GREGORY'S ATTRITION
CHAPTER XXIV. THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA
CHAPTER XXV. CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT
CHAPTER XXVI. TO FRANCE
CHAPTER XXVII. THE AUBERGE DU SOLEIL
THE TAVERN KNIGHT
CHAPTER I. ON THE MARCH
He whom they called the Tavern Knight laughed an evil laugh—such a laugh as might fall from the lips of Satan in a sardonic moment.
He sat within the halo of yellow light shed by two tallow candles, whose sconces were two empty bottles, and contemptuously he eyed the youth in black, standing with white face and quivering lip in a corner of the mean chamber. Then he laughed again, and in a hoarse voice, sorely suggestive of the bottle, he broke into song. He lay back in his chair, his long, spare legs outstretched, his spurs jingling to the lilt of his ditty whose burden ran:
His passionate kiss burns, still-O!
For 'tis April time, and of love and wine
Youth's way is to take its fill-O!
Down, down, derry-do!
So his cup he drains and he shakes his reins,
And rides his rake-helly way-O!
She was sweet to woo and most comely, too,
But that was all yesterday-O!
Down, down, derry-do!
The lad started forward with something akin to a shiver.
"Have done," he cried, in a voice of loathing, "or, if croak you must, choose a ditty less foul!"
"Eh?" The ruffler shook back the matted hair from his lean, harsh face, and a pair of eyes that of a sudden seemed ablaze glared at his companion; then the lids drooped until those eyes became two narrow slits—catlike and cunning—and again he laughed.
"Gad's life, Master Stewart, you have a temerity that should save you from grey hairs! What is't to you what ditty my fancy seizes on? 'Swounds, man, for three weary months have I curbed my moods, and worn my throat dry in praising the Lord; for three months have I been a living monument of Covenanting zeal and godliness; and now that at last I have shaken the dust of your beggarly Scotland from my heels, you—the veriest