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Updated: May 17, 2025
I should like to add, with regard to this reading of our new evidence, that I am very glad to know Sir James Frazer holds a very similar opinion. For, as you are doubtless all aware, Sir James is at present collecting Flood stories from all over the world, and is supplementing from a wider range the collections already made by Lenormant, Andree, Winternitz, and Gerland.
He turned to Gaston, and said in English: "She's sing'lar, like her mother afore her. But she's straight." Gaston lit a cigar. "Of course." He looked kindly at the girl. "You are a weird sort, Andree, and perhaps you are right that I'm a Romany too; but I don't know where it begins and where it ends. You are not English gipsies?" he added, to the father. "I lived in England when I was young.
That night, or on one of the following nights, Rose Andree must surrender ... or die." Hortense gave a shudder: "We shall be too late. Besides, you don't suppose that he's keeping her a prisoner?" "Certainly not. The place I have in mind is at a cross-roads and is not a safe retreat. But we may discover some clue or other."
"Let us go," she said hurriedly. "Wait," he whispered. They talked for a little time. Then they entered the studio. Annette was asleep in her chair. Andree waked her, and they bade Gaston good-night. In another week it was announced that Mademoiselle Victorine would take a month's holiday; to the sorrow of her chief, and to the delight of Mr.
But he did his part with sincere intention. That was up to the day when he saw Andree as Mademoiselle Victorine. Then came a swift change. Day after day he visited her, always in the presence of Annette. Soon they dined often together, still in Annette's presence, and the severity of that rule was never relaxed. Count Ploare came no more; he had received his dismissal.
Her mother was a Breton not a Romany. We're on the way to France now. She wants to see where her mother was born. She's got the Breton lingo, and she knows some English; but she speaks French mostly." "Well, well," rejoined Gaston, "take care of yourself, and good luck to you. Good-bye good-bye, Andree." He put his hand in his pocket to give her some money, but changed his mind.
Even a Parisian audience had never seen anything like this. It was amusing too; for the coachman-lion was evidently disgusted with his task, and growled in a helpless kind of way. As they passed Gaston's box, they were very near. The girl threw one swift glance; but her face was well controlled now. She heard, however, a whispered word come to her: "Andree!"
"All they want is sensation, it isn't morals that concerns them. Well, IT give them sensation. They expect me to hide, and drop out of the game. Never so help me Heaven! I'll play it so they'll forget this!" He rolled and lighted a cigarette, and went again to the chateau. Dinner was ready had been ready for some time. He sat down, and presently Andree came.
He did not even read the notices sent by a press-cutting agency. He had a model with him. She amused him for the time, but it was unsatisfactory working on "The King of Ys" from photographs. He loathed it, and gave it up. One evening Gaston and Andree met at the Gare Montparnasse. Jacques was gone on, but Annette was there. Meyerbeer was there also, at a safe distance.
It was difficult to separate here on the quay: they must all walk together to the hotel. Gaston turned to speak to Andree, but she was gone. She had saved the situation. The three spoke little, and then but formally, as they walked to the hotel. Mr. Gasgoyne said that they would leave by train for Paris the next day, going to Douarnenez that evening. They had saved nothing from the yacht.
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