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"Here, wait a moment!" Freeing himself from the dead weight of his chum, he dashed across the hall, feeling giddy and shaken by the explosion, and, scrambling on hands and knees amongst the bodies lying around the spot where the fire had been burning, he soon secured a water-bottle, and, hastening back, first dashed some of the contents into Henri's face, and then lifted the metal cup to his lips and let him drain it.
It must be so. You speak like a priest." "Think," he said, "and pray to Him about it, and hope a little for François. He loves you. It would be so cruel to him to lose you." Henri's voice broke joyously out of the shrubbery: "Good at all times Is sweet bread, But specially when With sugar spread."
As madame says, monsieur is sometimes lacking in consideration. Mais, que voulez-vous? le genie, c'est fait comme ca." Madame had not expressed the feeblest echo of a criticism on the composition of the genius in front; but the short dialogue had helped, perceptibly, to lift the weight of Henri's gloom; he was beginning to accept the fate of the day with a philosopher's phlegm.
Weyman seized it firmly. "Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me alive. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My God, a dog and a blind wolf mates!" He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did not yet quite understand. Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing. "A dog and a blind wolf mates!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, Henri.
As for my belated foragers, we should have to let them take their chances of rejoining us; and some weeks later they did indeed arrive at the camp in Guienne with rich spoil, having found Maury given over to the owls and bats as of yore. The men cheered for joy at the announcement that we were at last to rejoin our Henri's flying camp.
Monsieur de Villereine had begged me to come to his house, which was situated about a mile from the town, but I felt compelled to accept Henri's invitation to accompany him and his sister to his father's house, a short distance farther off on the side of the mountain; and more so, as from his weak state, he required my assistance in getting in and out of the carriage.
God will bless you." It was a touching little scene, and I preferred, for one, to look out just then at Henri's figure advancing toward us, up the stone steps. When the priest spoke again, it was in a husky tone, the gold in his voice dusted with moisture; but the bantering spirits in him had reappeared. "What a pity, that you must burn! For you must, dreadful heretics that you are!
And soon after Henri's arrival a dispatch rider set off post haste with certain papers and maps, hurriedly written and drawn. Henri had not only returned, he had brought back information of great value to all the Allied armies.
To which Crimsworth replies, "You speak God's truth, and you shall have your own way, for it is the best way." There is far more common sense than passion in the solid little Frances and her apathetic lover. It is Frances Henri's situation, not her character, that recalls so irresistibly Lucy Snowe. Frances has neither Lucy's temperament, nor Lucy's terrible capacity for suffering.
"The Church which Jesus Christ has established," said he stoutly, "is the Church Catholic, Apostolic and Roman." The next was Henri's eight year old sister. "Can anyone be saved outside of the Church Catholic, Apostolic and Roman?" "Say now the Act of Faith all together."
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