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When Marianne was eighteen, they tell me, she was the prettiest girl in Pont du Sable, that is to say, she was prettier than Emilienne Dagèt at Bar la Rose, or than Berthe Pavoisiér, the daughter of the miller at Tocqueville, who is now in Paris. At eighteen, Marianne was slim and blonde; moreover, she was as bold as a hawk, and smiled as easily as she lied.
Furthermore, "when the British line was wavering under the most terrible cyclone of shells ever let loose upon earth, Émilienne Moreau sprang forward with a bit of tricolored bunting in her hand and the glorious words of the 'Marseillaise' on her lips, and by her fearless example averted a retreat that might have meant disaster along the whole front.
Connected with the Battle of Loos there was one little person who deserves a chapter in history all to herself and that is Mlle. Émilienne Moreau, a young French girl who lived and probably still lives with her parents in the storm-battered village of Loos. She was seventeen years of age at the time she became famous, and was studying to be a school-teacher.
"Mais si; bon Dieu! there is something." She placed her hands on her trembling knees. "No, I swear there is nothing, Jean," she said faintly. But he insisted. "One earns so little," she confessed at length. "Ten sous a day, it is not much, and the days are so long on the marsh. If I knew how to cook I'd try and get a place like Emilienne."
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