Explore "The Laughing Cavalier" by Emma Orczy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was like a man possessed of devils that the Lord of Stoutenburg ran out through the mist toward the molens.
The grey light of this winter's morning had only vaguely pierced the surrounding gloom, and the basement beneath the molens still looked impenetrably dark. Dark and silent! the soldier--foreign mercenaries and louts--had vanished in the fog, arms hastily thrown down littered the mud-covered ground, swords, pistols, muskets, torn clothing, here and there a neck-cloth, a steel bonnet, a bright coloured sash. Stoutenburg saw it all, right through the gloom, and he ground his teeth together to smother a cry of agonised impotence.