Explore "A Rogue's Tragedy" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Yolande de France walked straight down the hill to her doom. She had no Spanish silk umbrella, like Cartouche's, to shield her head from the tempest, nor any strength, like his, to dare orthodoxy. She wore only a simple cloak and hood, like "Red-riding-hood the darling, the flower of fairy lore;" and that was quite insufficient to protect her from the wolf.
At the door of the "Hôtel" her father met her, distraught and nervous. He led her, his lips quivering, into the little side study which he called an ante-room. He was obviously, pitifully, agitated.