Heretic Dawn [antikvár]

1 r I 1 here's one thing i'm certain of. We're just like the I sea—tranquillity is merely a surface impression. Beneath, everything is motion, tumult and undercurrents. So a man should never consider his happiness assured or his soul in peace at last. Once we believe we're content, we discover something else that sets our appetites on edge. As I rode away from Monsieur de Montcalm's chateau, glad as I was to be reunited with my father, looking so hale and happy, and as delighted as I felt that we were on our way to Sarlat, my beloved Mespech and all its dear inhabitants, my joy was far from unalloyed. Every now and again I felt a sudden stab at my heart at the thought of leaving Angelina de Montcalm behind, and of the uncertain happiness we'd vowed to each other, betokened by the pledge I wore on the little finger of my left hand: the gold ring studded with an azure stone that she'd given me in the little turret that flanked the east wall of Barbentane. "Ha!" I thought. "I'm a Huguenot heretic and a penniless littie brother with no inheritance! How dare I tempt Fortune by asking for her hand, even if it's for her future hand? Given Monsieur de Montcalm's obvious distaste for me, will she really consent to wait so long, especially given all the studies I must complete and the years of hard work necessary to earn a doctorate and set up practice as