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Just two men remained, their hands plunged deep into their pockets, bending their backs beneath the squall, their woolen caps pulled down over their ears; two big Normandy fishermen, bearded, their skin tanned through exposure, with the piercing black eyes of the sailor who looks over the horizon like a bird of prey. One of them was saying: "Come on, Jeremie, let's go play dominoes.

Let me remind you of what saith Saint Jeremie, Onager solitarius, in desiderio animae suae, attraxit ventum amoris; the wild ass of the wilderness, in the desire of his heart, snuffeth up the wind of love; whereby that holy man signifies that vain earthly love, which is but wind and air, and shall avail nothing at all, when this weak, impure flesh is sloughed away.”

Its hoarse clang sounded like the rattling of saucepans. Then Mathurin got up like a sailor whose watch is over. "Come on, Jeremie, we've got to get out." The other man rose to his feet with difficulty, got his balance by leaning on the table, reached the door and opened it while his companion was putting out the light.

He has been led to form this opinion from the similarity of the name given to these people by Monsieur Jeremie, namely, Monsonies; but the truth is that their real name is Mongsoaeythinyoowuc, or Moose-deer Indians; hence the name of the factory and river on which it is built.

Isn't your wife going to warm your bed for you?" Jeremie answered: "The other night I couldn't find the door I had to be fished out of the ditch in front of the house!"

Mathurin kept pouring and winking to the saloon keeper, a big, red-faced man, who chuckled as though at the thought of some fine joke; and Jeremie kept absorbing alcohol and wagging his head, giving vent to a roar of laughter and looking at his comrade with a stupid and contented expression. All the customers were going away.

As soon as they were in the street Mathurin locked the door and then said: "Well, so long. See you to-morrow night!" And he disappeared in the darkness. Jeremie took a few steps, staggered, stretched out his hands, met a wall which supported him and began to stumble along.

He has been led to form this opinion, from the similarity of the name given to these people by Monsieur Jeremie, namely, Monsonies; but the truth is, that their real name is Mongsoa-eythinyoowuc, or Moose-deer Indians; hence the name of the factory and river on which it is built.

Mathurin kept pouring and winking to the saloon keeper, a big, red-faced man, who chuckled as though at the thought of some fine joke; and Jeremie kept absorbing alcohol and wagging his head, giving vent to a roar of laughter and looking at his comrade with a stupid and contented expression. All the customers were going away.

Then tired out, stupefied from his exertion, he stretched himself out on the ground and slept. When day came a neighbor, seeing the door open, entered. He saw Jeremie snoring on the floor, amid the broken pieces of a chair, and on the bed a pulp of flesh and blood. As we sat chatting after dinner, a party of men, the conversation turned on women, for lack of something else.