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Updated: May 4, 2025
He should be blind and dumb, so far as we all are concerned." "Remember that Evanturel is a cripple," the Cure answered gently. "I am glad, very glad it was not Rosalie." "Rosalie has more than usual sense for her sex," gruffly but kindly answered the Seigneur, a look of friendliness in his eyes. "I shall talk to her about her father; I can't trust myself to speak to the man."
He dropped the hot iron on the seam, and sniffed with satisfaction. "Who are you?" said the tailor. "A man who wants work. The Cure knows. It's all right. Shall I stay?" The tailor nodded, and sat down with a colour in his face. From the moment there came to the post-office the letter addressed to "The Sick Man at the House of Jo Portugais at Vadrome Mountain," Rosalie Evanturel dreamed dreams.
As he did so, Rosalie Evanturel cried: "Wait, oh, wait!" Before any one could interfere she moved along the open space to the mad beast, speaking soothingly, and calling his name. The crowd held their breath. A woman fainted. Some wrung their hands, and Jo Portugais, with blanched face, stood with gun half raised.
Who could have believed that the Seigneur would say those words to her this morning to her, Rosalie Evanturel, who hadn't five hundred dollars to her name? That she should be asked to be Madame Rossignol!
Gazing across the street towards the little post-office, he saw Rosalie Evanturel at the window. He fell to thinking about her. Rosalie, on her part, kept wondering what old Louis' violence meant. Presently she saw a half-dozen men come quickly down the street, and, before they reached the tailorshop, stand in a group talking excitedly.
Bodily harm was the natural form for their passion to take. "Bring him out let us have him!" they cried with fierce gestures, to which Rosalie Evanturel turned a pained, indignant face. As the Curb stood with the paper in his hand, his face set and bitter, Rosalie made a step forward.
Without hesitation Charley handed over the letter to the Cure, who took it with surprise, read it with amazement, and handed it back with a flush on his face. "Thank you," said Charley to the girl. "It is good of you to bring it all this way. May I ask " "She is Mademoiselle Rosalie Evanturel," said the Cure smiling. "I am Charles Mallard," said Charley slowly. "Thank you.
Reading the letter again, hatred, doubt, even sorrow, passed from her, and her imagination pictured the hour when, disguise and secrecy ended, he would step forward before all the world and say: "I take Rosalie Evanturel to be my wife." Despite the gusts of emotion that swayed her at times, in the deepest part of her being she trusted him completely.
With her father's hand in hers the girl dreamed dreams again, and it seemed to her that she was the very Rosalie Evanturel of old, whose thoughts were bounded by a river and a hill, a post-office and a church, a catechism and a few score of books.
Without hesitation Charley handed over the letter to the Cure, who took it with surprise, read it with amazement, and handed it back with a flush on his face. "Thank you," said Charley to the girl. "It is good of you to bring it all this way. May I ask " "She is Mademoiselle Rosalie Evanturel," said the Cure smiling. "I am Charles Mallard," said Charley slowly. "Thank you.
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