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Eusebius in favor of the Calf, Yvon was at his own request appointed forester serf over the canton of the Fountain of the Hinds, and the very morning after his marriage to the golden-haired Marceline, he settled down with her in one of the profound solitudes of the forest of Compiegne, where they lived happily for many years.
"That is another question that I shall satisfy you upon after we are married, Marceline," answered Yvon after a moment's reflection; "but to return to the miracle that is to explain my transformation from idiocy to sanity, it is quite simple: St.
"You are pale and agitated." "Sir," replied the young man, "it is on account of an accident which has happened to our little neighbor." "To Mademoiselle de la Valliere?" asked Athos, quickly. "What is it?" cried many persons present. "She was walking with her nurse Marceline, in the place where the woodmen cut the wood, when, passing on horseback, I stopped.
The ready Marceline helped him through the difficulty. "I understand, sir: my mistress's mind is much occupied and you don't want to trouble her about this little journey." Mr. Gallilee, at a loss for any other answer, pulled out his purse. Marceline modestly drew back at the sight of it. "My mistress pays me, sir; I serve you for nothing."
Marceline good!" and he fixed his eyes so full of gratitude upon her that she observed aloud with a sigh: "Who would believe that this wretch, with eyes at times so captivating, still is deprived of reason?" and again laying down her bucket she said to the idiot: "Yvon, why did you go this morning into the forest? Your hair and rags are really moist with dew.
The bride was attired in a white marceline silk of most scant proportions; her veil consisted of one breadth of tulle caught in her comb, at the back of her hair; no flowers were worn except a very minute bunch in front of her dress. The groom was attired with like simplicity, thereby attracting considerable attention.
"Marceline," he proceeded, "in order to put an end to your surprise, I must first speak to you of my family." "Oh, speak, Yvon, speak! I feel so happy to see you speak like a sane person, and such language!" "Well, then, my lovely Marceline, my great-grandfather, a skipper of Paris named Eidiol, had a son and two daughters.
The governess replied by a look. She too had seen the change in Mrs. Gallilee's manner, and was at a loss to understand it. Mrs. Gallilee's maid Marceline belonged to a quick-tempered race: she was a Jersey woman. It is not easy to say which of the two felt most oppressed by their enforced companionship in the carriage. The maid was perhaps the most to be pitied.
What in her daughter should she make so much her own as that daughter's love for her daughter in turn? There are no lapses. Marceline Valmore, married to an actor who seems to have "created the classic genre" in vain, found the sons and daughters of other women in want.
Or if not only the pangs, at least they were apprehensive chiefly in that sense which human anxiety and foreboding have lent to the word; they were apprehensive of what they feared. "Are you warm?" writes Marceline Valmore to her child. "You have so little to wear are you really warm? Oh, take care of me cover me well." Elsewhere she says, "You are an insolent child to think of work.
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