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Madame Boisjoli was only thirty-two. She was young. "But alive, Mignon, alive; don't forget that." "You have had adventures?" eagerly; for she was a woman who loved the recital of exploits. Monsieur Boisjoli had fallen as a soldier at Charenton. "Adventures? Oh, as they go," slapping his rapier and his pockets which had recently been very empty. "You have been wounded?"
Ah!" as he saw Madame Boisjoli returning, followed by Charlot who carried the smoking supper; "here is something that promises well." "Brother Jacques is gone?" said madame, her eyes roving. "Yes." The Chevalier sat down at a table. "Monsieur Paul?" timidly. "Well, Mignon?" smiling. Mignon was certainly good to look at. "Did you notice Brother Jacques's eyes?"
Sometimes the Chevalier entertained his noble friends, young and old, in these rooms; and the famous kitchens of Madame Boisjoli, the landlady of the Candlestick, supplied the delicacies of his tables.
Some persons known for their political experience, among others M. Bigourd, considered the evidence of the Minister of War as abler and of greater weight than that of his Chief of Staff. The evidence of Colonel de Boisjoli made a great impression.
If he be good and true, it matters not into what kind of scabbard he is thrust." "Aye, lad; but how much more confidence a handsome scabbard gives a man! Even a sword, dressed well, attracts the eye; and, heart of mine, what other aim have we poor mortals than to attract?" "Madame Boisjoli makes out her charges at twelve louis, including the keep of the horses."
"Monsieur Paul?" cried the handsome widow of Monsieur Boisjoli, stepping from behind the pastry counter. "Yes, Mignon, it is I," said the Chevalier; "that is, what remains of me." "What happiness to see you again!" she exclaimed. She turned to a waiter. "Charlot, bring Monsieur le Chevalier the pheasant pie, the ragout of hare, and a bottle of chambertin from the bin of '36."
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