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"M. Dagobert, you sent me away just now, and I was afraid of making you cross, if I said I had come again." "What do you want? Speak then come in, stupid!" cried the exasperated. Dagobert, as he pulled him into the room. "M. Dagobert, don't be angry I'll tell you all about it it is a young man." "Well?" "He wants to speak to you directly, Mr. Dagobert." "His name?"
"So that Virtue is its own reward," Dagobert said, with a comic pathos, as he took Marguerite's hand. But we must obey the commands of our fair judge, from whose award there is no appeal." And he impressed a fugitive kiss upon Marguerite's lips, and then led her back to her seat with much solemnity.
"I do not know," murmured Frances, in a failing voice. "You do not know!" cried Dagobert, with indignation; but restraining himself, he added, in a tone of friendly reproach: "You do not know? You cannot even fix an hour, or, better still, not entrust them to any one? The children must have been very anxious to go out.
"How could the Abbe d'Aigrigny have your cross in his possession, if he had no connection with Morok?" "That is true, sir," said Dagobert; "joy prevented me from reflecting. But how indeed, did my cross come into your hands?" "By means of the Abbe d'Aigrigny's having precisely those relations with Leipsic, of which you and the young lady seem to doubt." "But how did my cross get to Paris?"
"How proud you must be of your son, Dagobert," said Rose, in admiration; "he writes songs." "Certainly, it is all very fine but what pleases me best is, that he is good to his mother, and that he handles the hammer with a will.
"Always the same," said Rose, with emotion, as she looked affectionately at Dagobert. "As faithful to the father and mother as to their children," added Blanche. "To love one was to love them all," replied the soldier.
"Who, brother?" said Agricola, uneasy at the pale and almost wild looks of the missionary; for the smith had not yet remarked the strange resemblance of the woman to the portrait, though he shared in the general feeling of amazement, without being able to explain it to himself. Dagobert and Faringhea were in a similar state of mind.
"The marshal wept!" cried the blacksmith, hardly able to believe what he heard. "Yes," answered Dagobert, "he wept like a child." "And what could these letters contain, father?" "I did not venture to ask him, he appeared so miserable and dejected." "But thus harassed and tormented incessantly, the marshal must lead a wretched life."
She was in tears, and had before her a large packet of papers; it was a kind of journal, which your father had written every evening to console himself; not being able to speak to her, he told the paper all that he would have told her." "Oh! where are these papers, Dagobert?" "There, in the knapsack, with my cross and our purse.
"At all events, you will wait for Agricola, M. Dagobert?" "Yes, if he arrives before ten o'clock." "Alas; you have then quite made up your mind?" "Quite. And yet, if I were weak enough to believe in bad omens " "Sometimes, M. Dagobert, omens do not deceive one," said the girl, hoping to induce the soldier to abandon his dangerous resolution.
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