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Updated: May 6, 2025
"The deuce you have! That's strange, when the Emperor said your discovery " "It is a gold mine, but like gold mines, it has plunged the discoverer into debt." "I dare say it would! and I suppose it is not so certain-sure as the newspapers assert " "I beg your pardon, it is beyond all doubt," replied Clemenceau, sharply. "Stop a bit," said M. Cantagnac, pulling a newspaper out of his pocket.
Luncheon was served and M. Cantagnac, seated comfortably, was trying the delicacies with rare conscientiousness about any escaping his harpoon-like fork. Césarine did not give him a second look and neither he nor Clemenceau, with whom he was chatting on politics, more than glanced up at her.
She did not blanch; she did not lift her hand to cover her unaltered features, but listened as idly as she would to the last plaint of the fool who might blown out his brains at her feet. The false Cantagnac pursued in his natural voice, rancid and imperious, rolling out the gutturals like a heavy wagon thundering over an old road.
Oh, heaven, may she be filled with the temptation to do good and mayest thou receive her in thy endless mercifulness!" The squeaking of the gravel under a regular and heavy step induced him to look round, and a burly shape loomed up in the darkness between the plane trees. It was the so-called Cantagnac, who bowed, with his hat off. "I have been hunting for you everywhere," he said jovially.
"Blessed relief to pray and do you really get an answer now and then? in time, no doubt, for it's a great way off!" "Do you not believe in heaven, M. Cantagnac?" demanded Clemenceau, bluntly. In the twilight and loneliness, the question struck home, and the spy felt compelled to make some answer. "My dear M. Clemenceau," he faltered, "I never meddle with matters which do not teach me anything.
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