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Updated: May 1, 2025
"My son could then marry the daughter of a marshal of France, or the daughter of some old family whose influence would get him a fine place under the government in Paris," said Minoret, opening his huge snuff-box and offering a pinch to Goupil. "Very good; but will you play fair?" cried Goupil, shaking his fingers. Minoret pressed the clerk's hands replying: "On my word of honor."
The threat was heard by the council and the citizens. But the man seemed so terrible that no one dared reprimand him. A few moments later the city attorney sent down to the clerk's office for some blanks. Jeff was waiting behind a corner of the hall. He hit me a blow in the neck that knocked me four yards. It was the "rabbit blow" and he expected it to break my neck.
There was no spot or corner in the two small rooms that comprised his "chambers" to which he could point with pride. The floors were littered with papers; the walls were greasy and bedecked with malodorous notations, documents and pictures; the windows were smoky and useless; the clerk's desk bore every suggestion of dissoluteness.
Dangerfield walked straight on, up the step of the communion-table, and shoving open the little balustraded door, he made a gay stride or two across the holy precinct, and with a quick right-about face, came to a halt, the white, scoffing face, for exercise never flushed it, and the cold, broad sheen of the spectacles, looked odd in the clerk's eyes, facing the church-door, from beside the table of the sacrament, displayed, as it were, in the very frame foreground, background, and all in which he was wont to behold the thoughtful, simple, holy face of the rector.
It seemed a silly formula this piece of paper from the marriage clerk's office and this instructed phraseology concerning "love, honor and cherish." Certainly he would love, honor and cherish if it were possible if not, then not. Angela, with the marriage ring on her finger and the words "with this ring I thee wed" echoing in her ears, felt that all her dreams had come true.
Early on that morning of the 31st, before the House assembled, the young law student who was so curious about the business of lawmaking saw Colonel Peter Randolph, of his Majesty's Council, standing at the Clerk's table, "thumbing over the volumes of journals to find a precedent for expunging a vote of the House."
When the Pastor Emeritus sends a letter or message to that little Sanhedrin, it is the Clerk's "imperative duty" to read it "at the place and time specified." Otherwise, the world might come to an end. These are fine, large frills, and remind us of the ways of emperors and such.
I sha'n't like him," said Madeline. "Poor George! and here we are forgetting all about him this beautiful day!" "What's the new clerk's name?" said Laura, impatiently. "Harrison Cordis." "What?" "Harrison Cordis." "Rather an odd name," said Laura. "I never heard it." "No," said Will; "he comes all the way from Boston." "Is he handsome?" inquired Laura. "I really don't know," replied Will.
Ere she had taken the first step, however, she started; in rising she had upset the clerk's tin water-pail, which fell rattling on the floor. "The water!" she exclaimed sadly, "and my tongue is parched." "I'll fetch more," said Els consolingly; "Herr Martin brought it from over yonder."
It was quite time for him to go on watch now; for the loud-ticking marine-clock over the window of the clerk's office pointed to three minutes past twelve, and the striker hurried to his post at the starboard engine, with the bitterness of defeat and the shame of insult in his heart. He had sacrificed his place, doubtless, and risked much beside, and all for nothing.
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