"Blurtseau Lundif - Corsaire Extraordinaire" (XIII)
Hurry my Lord! shouted Pableau. The gendarmes are coming! We must flee! Ahhh, said Blurtseau, slowly rising from the écrivan, the prince’s henchmen have found me. Flee? No, mon cher, not before my sword is drunk with traitors’ blood. And so saying, Blurtseau seized his mask and cape and rushed to meet his fate. What happened next is recorded reluctantly in the annals of serious history, for it can scarcely be believed. Moving with the speed of a wildcat, Blurtseau burst into the salon and sprang upon his enemies. He was here, he was there, he was here, there, here, there, there, here, here, there, fighting with the fury of ten Blurtseaus, plus two…
... and in less than fourteen minutes the soldiers were routed. Blurtseau searched the chamber for a sign of the prince but, finding none, abandoned the salon, darted into the street, and boarded the carriage pulled by his ever-faithful friend.
Blurtseau and Pableau sped from Paris to Hendaye, Hendaye to Lisbon, and Lisbon to Sagres, where they took refuge in the fortress of Blurtseau’s historic idol, Henry the Navigator. Here, at the end of the earth, Blurtseau could begin to console his convalescing heart…
Yes, thought Blurtseau, a soul could yearn here.
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