Wlliam Gilmore Simms
Southward Ho! A Spell of Sunshine >> Chapter VI / Love's Last Supper; A True Story of the Troubadours >> Page 100

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Novel (Romance) | Redfield | 1854
Transcription 100 SOUTHWARD HO!
Without waiting for the answer, Raymond added, But let
me see what thou hast just written in her praise. It is by his
verses that we understand the devotion of the troubadour."
Leaning over the poet as he spoke, as if his purpose had been
to possess himself of his tablets, he suddenly threw the whole
weight of his person upon him, and, in the very same moment,
by a quick movement of the hand, he drove the couteau de
cliasse, with which he was armed, and which he had hitherto
concealed behind him, with a swift, unerring stroke deep down
into the bosom of the victim. Never was blow better aimed, or
with more energy delivered. The moment of danger was that
of death. The unfortunate troubadour was conscious of the
weapon .only when he felt the steel. It was with a playful
smile that Raymond struck, and so innocent was the expression
of his face, even while his arm was extended and the weight of
his body was pressing upon Guillaume, that the only solicitude
of the latter had been to conceal his tablets. One convulsive
cry, one hideous contortion, and Guillaume de Cabestaign was
no more. The name of Marguerite was the only word which
escaped in his dying shriek. The murderer placed his hand
upon the heart of the victim. It had already ceased to beat.
CHAPTER IV.
Thou wilt mock me no more !" he muttered fiercely, as he
half rose from the body now stiffening fast. But his fierce ven-
geance was by no means completed. As if a new suggestion
had seized upon his mind, while his hand rested upon the heart
of the troubadour, he suddenly started and tore away the gar-
ments from the unconscious bosom. Once more he struck it
deeply with the keen and heavy blade. In a few moments he
had laid it open. Then be plunged his naked hand into the
gaping wound, and tore out the still quivering heart. This he
wrapped up with care and concealed in his garments. With an-
other stroke he smote the head from the body, and this he also
concealed, in fragments of dress torn from the person of his victim.
With these proofs of his terrible revenge, he made his way, un-
der cover of the dusk, in secret to the castle. What remains to be
told is still more dreadful beyond belief, indeed, were it not that