Two or three years
later he did this, and called the place Fort o' God. For more than
a century, M'sieur, Fort o' God was a place of revel and pleasure
in the heart of this desolation. Early in the nineteenth century
it passed into the hands of a man by the name of D'Arcy, and it is
said that at one time it housed twenty gentlemen and as many
ladies of France for one whole season. Its history is obscure, and
mostly lost. But for a long time after D'Arcy came it was a place
of adventure, of pleasure, and of mystery, very little of which
remains to-day. Those are his pistols above the fire. He was
killed by one of them out there beside the big rock, in a quarrel
with one of his guests over a woman. We think--here--from letters
that we have found, that her name was Camille. There is a chest in
my room filled with linen that bears her name. This dress came
from that chest. I have to be careful of them, as they tear very
easily. After D'Arcy the place was almost forgotten and remained
so until nearly forty years ago when my father came into
possession of it. That, M'sieur, is the very simple story of Fort
o' God. Its old name is forgotten. It lives only with us. Others
know it as D'Arcambal House.
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