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Updated: May 14, 2025
In early March 1814 a caleche was rolling along the highroad from Amboise to Tours. As the carriage came out from beneath the green-roofed aisle of walnut trees by the post-house of la Frilliere, the horses dashed forward with such speed that in a moment they gained the bridge built across the Cise at the point of its confluence with the Loire. There, however, they come to a sudden stand.
Hein! 'sapristi, two brave men would be arrant fools to kill each other for a joke." "Are you sure the pistols will carry wide enough? I should be sorry to kill the man, after all," said Gaudissart. "Sleep in peace," answered Mitouflet, departing. The next morning the two adversaries, more or less pale, met beside the bridge of La Cise.
She looked out with indifferent eyes over the fields towards the Cher, at the islands in the river, at the line of the crags of Vouvray stretching along the Loire towards Tours; then she sank back as soon as possible into her seat in the caleche. She did not care to give a glance to the enchanting valley of the Cise.
Hein! 'sapristi, two brave men would be arrant fools to kill each other for a joke." "Are you sure the pistols will carry WIDE ENOUGH? I should be sorry to kill the man, after all," said Gaudissart. "Sleep in peace," answered Mitouflet, departing. The next morning the two adversaries, more or less pale, met beside the bridge of La Cise.
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