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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Still I fancy she had a larger nose," Apolline ended by remarking. The Abbe then raised an exclamation of irresistible admiration: "Oh! you are prettier, much prettier, that's evident. But that does not matter, anyone would take you for two sisters." Pierre could not refrain from laughing, he thought the remark so peculiar. Ah! poor Bernadette was absolutely dead, and she had no sister.
He had not noticed his companion of the previous day, but had gone straight to Apolline and taken her on one side. And Pierre overheard him saying in a subdued tone: "Why didn't you bring me my three-dozen chaplets this morning?" Apolline again began laughing with the cooing notes of a dove, and looked at him sideways, roguishly, without answering. "They are for my little penitents at Toulouse.
From time to time she looks at me, and I at her, and her smile is an affectionate grimace amid the sunshine. When we have gone a little way, my aunt stops, "You go on," she says; "I'll catch you up." She has gone up to Apolline, the street-sweeper.
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