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The king promised, in case the Netherlands should be invaded by the enemy with the greater part of his force, that these four thousand soldiers should return to the Netherlands. The king further bound himself to carry on a sharp offensive war in Artois and Hainault.
I will not leave you till she comes down." Giulia returned, wiping her eyes. When he saw her Gaspare disappeared. They knew he had gone to wait outside his Padrona's door. The dinner passed almost in silence. Artois ate, and made Vere eat. Vere sat in her mother's place, with her back to the door. Artois was facing her. Often his eyes travelled to the door. Often, too, Vere turned her head.
I never could understand it, even before I even before Sicily." "You are not made to understand such a thing." "But you do?" "I? Well, perhaps. But the loves of men are not as your love." "Yet his was," she answered. "And he was a true Southerner, despite his father. "Yes, he was a true Southerner," Artois replied.
He did not understand the desire of Artois not to have his sense of the romance of their situation broken in upon by conversation just then. The romance of women was not with Artois, but the romance of Nature was. He wanted to keep it. And now he settled himself a little lower in the boat, under the shadow of its side, and seemed to be giving himself to sleep.
The states of Artois simply added the condition that false informers should be subjected to a retributive penalty; those of Hainault demanded that instead of confiscation of the estates, which directly militated against their privileges, another discretionary punishment should be introduced.
I don't want any more. Let's have our coffee." "The Turkish coffee," said Artois, with a smile. "Do you like Turkish coffee, Monsieur Delarey?" "Yes, monsieur. Hermione has taught me to." "Ah!" "At first it seemed to me too full of grounds," he explained. "Perhaps a taste for it must be an acquired one among Europeans. Do we have it here?"
And that night in the garden with Hermione With all the force and fixity of purpose he fastened his mind upon Hermione, letting Gaspare go. If what the Marchesino had asserted were true not that but if Hermione had believed it to be true, much in her conduct that had puzzled Artois was made plain. Could she have thought that? Had she thought it?
And Ruffo, all ignorantly and unconsciously, had pierced the heart of Hermione. Artois knew nothing of what had happened that day at Mergellina, but he divined that it was Ruffo who, without words, had told Hermione the truth. It must have been Ruffo, in whom the dead man lived again.
Artois brought him some Nocera and lemons. "Do you want brandy, whiskey?" "No, no. Grazie." He poured out the Nocera gently, and began carefully to squeeze some lemon-juice into it, holding the fruit lightly in his strong fingers, and watching the drops fall with a quiet attention. "Where have you been to-night?" The Marchesino looked up. "In the Piazza di Masaniello." "Where have you been?"
Before we pass to the next century a word must be devoted to a not unimportant class of books which seem to have been manufactured chiefly in Picardy and Artois, the illustrated Romances e.g. the Grail and Lancelot of great bulk, usually in prose, which served to pass the winter evenings of persons of quality. Fourteenth Century.
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