![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey’s vision, and he snapped his head to the left. There was no fog tonight, but the darkness and onslaught of rain were deceiving enough. Chauncey stepped easily over the sunken graves and humus of the cemetery even in the thickest fog he could find his way home from here and not fear getting lost. Rain sheeted down on the darkening countryside surrounding the Château de Langeais. Then he tugged on his boots and started for home. He tore a silver buckle off his shoe, placed it in the girl’s palm, and watched her scurry away, mud slinging on her skirts. CHAUNCEY WAS WITH A FARMER’S DAUGHTER ON the grassy banks of the Loire River when the storm rolled in, and having let his gelding wander in the meadow, was left to his own two feet to carry him back to the château. ![]()
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