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Updated: June 5, 2025
A private saying of Napoleon's, a word from his letters and biography, a phrase out of his speeches to his soldiers, sent tears to the avocat's eyes, and for a moment transformed Valmond.
A private saying of Napoleon's, a word from his letters and biography, a phrase out of his speeches to his soldiers, sent tears to the avocat's eyes, and for a moment transformed Valmond.
On the very eve of the Governor's coming, despite the Cure's and the Avocat's warnings, he had held a patriotic meeting intended to foster a stubborn, if silent, disregard of the Governor's presence amongst them.
When Medallion had finished he raised his glass and said: "Garon, I drink to home and woman!" He waited. The Avocat's eyes drew away from the candles again, and he came to his feet suddenly, swaying slightly as he did so.
He went singing gone in the head, but singing as he used to do before he married or got drunk! Perhaps his youth came back to him when he was going to die, just for a minute." The Avocat's eye gazed at Medallion earnestly now, and Medallion went on: "As good singing as you want to hear.
I was further assured upon this point by seeing the vehicle draw up in front of the avocat's house. I at once gave up my design of going back for D'Hauteville. Climbing back into the hack, I ensconced myself in such a position, that I could command a view of what passed in the Rue Bienville. Some one was evidently about to become the occupant of the carriage.
His glance found the faces of the Cure, the avocat, and the auctioneer; and his eyes steadied to Medallion's humorous look, to the Cure's puzzled questioning, to the avocat's bird-like curiosity.
What he thought he kept to him self until there seemed necessity to speak. A few days before the momentous one herebefore described he had called at Madame Lecyr's house, and, in course of conversation, told her that the Avocat's health was breaking; that the day before he had got completely fogged in court over the simplest business, and was quite unlike his old, shrewd, kindly self.
Every word the sick man tried to speak cut his chest like a knife, and his eyes half started from his head with the agony of it. The Avocat's heart sank within him, for he saw that a life was hanging in the balance. Not knowing what to do, he tucked in the bedclothes gently. "I do be thinkin'," said the strained, whispering voice "I do be thinkin' I could shmoke."
Now his gaze alternated between that long lane, sloping into shadow between the candles, and the keys. Medallion threw a leg over the fence and came in a few steps to the door. He opened it quietly and entered. In the dark he felt his way along the wall to the door of the Avocat's room, opened it, and thrust in his ungainly, whimsical face. "Ha!" he laughed with quick-winking eyes.
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