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It was in vain, however, that Sully pointed out the follies and dangers of such a step as was proposed. Henri's mind was made up, and leaving his friend, in high dudgeon, he went to his study and re-wrote his promise of marriage. The way was at last clear to the gratification of his passion.
"Look here!" began Henri, quite nettled, and becoming increasingly impatient, whereat Jules grinned. Indeed, it was his turn to be amused, for intuitively in the darkness he had guessed at Henri's condition; and knowing already how shaken he was, how nearly on the verge of unconsciousness, he had racked his brain for some method which might revive him.
In the other was a pair of little wooden shoes, fashioned like the ones that Jules had worn when she first knew him. They were only half as long as her thumb, and wrapped in a paper on which was written that Jules himself had whittled them out for her, with Henri's help and instructions. "What little darlings!" exclaimed Joyce.
"Nell Barraway you mean her? Bosh! I'm going to marry her, Henri." "You mustn't, Fabian," said Henri, eagerly clutching Fabian's sleeve. "But I must, my Henri. She's the best-looking, wittiest girl I ever saw splendid. Never lonely with her." "Looks and brains isn't everything, Fabian." "Isn't it, though? Isn't it? Tiens, you try it!" "Not without goodness." Henri's voice weakened. "That's bosh.
His hat was off, and his hair, carefully brushed back, gave him the eager look of the picture. He was a strong and manly figure, as unlike Henri as an oak is unlike one of Henri's own tall and swaying poplars. Sara Lee drew a long breath. Here after all were rest and peace; love and gentleness; quiet days and still evenings.
For within half an hour of Henri's successful purchase of tickets, which were to take himself and his chum to safety in England, there had come news of importance from London.
The poor Reichs Army nominally makes a figure this Year, but nominally only; the effective part of it, now and henceforth, being Austrian Auxiliaries, and the Reichs part as flaccid and insignificant as ever. Prince Henri's call to quit Saxony was this.
"Stop! Let's wait and listen." Henri's hand went out and gripped Jules's sleeve, while the two came to a halt at once, sitting up on their haunches, as it were, and peered into the darkness and listened peered till Henri's bloodshot eyes positively ached, until tears of weakness dribbled down his face and splashed on to the pavement.
As he has not done raising the contributions in the Lausitz, you must send another to do it, and have them ready when General Platen passes that way hither." "'Five thalers bounty for artillery men" say you? It is not to be thought of. Artillery men can be had by conscription where you are." March 26th, Henri's gloom reaches the igniting point; he writes to Chief-Clerk Eichel:
Accordingly Pierre's box of lunch was stowed away in Henri's locker, and speeding across the little bridge that connected the filature with the throwing mills, the two boys entered the great factories. "Before we go another step there is one question I must ask you," said Pierre, stopping in the doorway. "I want you to tell me why the twisting of raw silk into thread is called throwing."
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