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"It could not be helped," the boy protested. "People from Tennis suddenly rushed in. The first a big, furious fellow-killed our Loule and the fierce Judas. Now he has to pay for it. Little Chareb threw the black powder into his eyes, while Hanno himself thrust the torch in his face." "And Bias, the blackbeard's slave?" "I don't know. Oh, yes! Wounded, I believe, on board the ship."
"It could not be helped," the boy protested. "People from Tennis suddenly rushed in. The first a big, furious fellow-killed our Loule and the fierce Judas. Now he has to pay for it. Little Chareb threw the black powder into his eyes, while Hanno himself thrust the torch in his face." "And Bias, the blackbeard's slave?" "I don't know. Oh, yes! Wounded, I believe, on board the ship."
Six paddlers there were for this great canot du Nord, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient boat-song of New France: "En roulant ma loule, roulant, Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant."
The lady proved to be the Marchioness de Loulé, sister to the King of Portugal; and the gentleman turned out to be her husband, for whose beaux yeux she contracted what is considered a mésalliance.
"It could not be helped," the boy protested. "People from Tennis suddenly rushed in. The first a big, furious fellow-killed our Loule and the fierce Judas. Now he has to pay for it. Little Chareb threw the black powder into his eyes, while Hanno himself thrust the torch in his face." "And Bias, the blackbeard's slave?" "I don't know. Oh, yes! Wounded, I believe, on board the ship."
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