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He therefore took up his brown straw hat and black cane, and started determinedly out to exercise his habit of vexing the high spirit of the school master, De La Lande. "Ah bon, fratello!" cried Zotique that afternoon when de La Lande appeared at his door, "How goes it? Come in and speak to Mr. Chrysler, here."
How strange to enjoy such beating rain, such blinding darkness and fierce contest of strength with nature! How fearless! How few like him in this or any virtue! Did there in fact exist another his equal! No; Haviland stood alone the climax of a race. As Chrysler pondered, dull sounds reached him, breaking in on these meditations. A door opened below, and heavy feet tramped in.
Of olive complexion, small cherry mouth and features, yet fine head and person, and smiling benignly, he advanced a step before Chrysler noticed him. "Salut, M'sieu L'Honorable," bowed Haviland. "Good-day, Chamilly," he replied quickly, without ceasing to smile directly towards the other man and holding out his hand. Chrysler looked closer at his features. "Ah, Mr.
Then he ascended and sat gratefully down, for he was fatigued. The grandfather had laid his instrument on a spinning-wheel within the door, and slowly lit a pipe with both hands. The bar-tender jumped from his perch and stood with a familiar leer, of which when Benoit said "Mr. Cuiller, monsieur," Chrysler took trifling notice.
He was silent. "Why is it Mr. Benoit will not accept you?" Chrysler asked, very interested. "Solely because I lost my money, air. I was coming to receive his blessing on our wishes." "How was the money lost? That was a singular circumstance." "I had seven hundred and fifty dollars in my pocket. It was on the steamboat down from Montreal, at night time, in the lower cabin.
This was one of Madame's domains, where she walked, weeded and superintended every morning in broad straw hat and apron; and it was to Chrysler one of the attractions of the Manoir. "Que Demosthènes, En haranguant, Entraine Athènes, Come un torrent!" The events to which all others were leading now began to happen. The great nomination day, Sunday is here.
As to the effects of the Curé's second vow, they remain matter for narration to come. "Bonjour le maître et la maîtresse Et tous les gens de la maison." The crimson and gold of sunset were stained richly across the west. Chrysler was walking leisurely out in the country. A mile from Dormillière, a white stone farm-house stood forward near the road.
The patriot ended, and when he had finished, Chrysler exclaimed: "Work it out, Haviland! If a convert is any use to you, take me over and send me forth. It's a noble scheme. But, for Heaven's sake, fortify yourself. How many proselytes do you expect in the first hundred years?" "You forget," replied Haviland. "I have always this faithful little legion of Dormillière.
Has not Lareau said," and he smiled half in joke, half seriously, "that we are a people of ideals." They returned to their fishing in silence, broken by a meditative query now and then from Chrysler, but no movement of curiosity from the Bonhomme. "Sister Elisâ," lisped Rudolphe, the tiny boy. Ch'ysl' has told me he was a Canadian."
"The Institute at Dormillière is the insignificant sole survivor." "I understand now your Reveillière," Chrysler said. On Saturday evening of Chrysler's first week at the Manoir, they went to the Institute.
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