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Updated: June 22, 2025
Will you believe it?" "I suggest the eagle rampant on a sausage!" "No, no; the lily on the beer-pot!" The scene went on. The butt of it heard jest and ridicule. They were pillorying him with the light and matchless cruelty of wits. And he, poor fool, had believed them to be his dupes, whereas he was theirs! Gently he disengaged himself from M. Ferraud's grasp.
The very next day Comte Ferraud's man of business, lately appointed President of the County Court in a town of some importance, wrote this distressing note to Derville: "MONSIEUR,
Thus, he misled the comedy and the tragedy of the eyes at dinner, nor saw a woman throw her all and lose it. "Is there anything I can do for you?" asked Fitzgerald, venturing his head into M. Ferraud's cabin. "Nothing; to-morrow it will all be gone. I am always so. The miserable water!" M. Ferraud drew the blanket under his chin. "When you are better I should like to ask you some questions."
"There is something very strange in Comte Ferraud's position," said Derville to himself, on emerging from his long reverie, as his cab stopped at the door of the Hotel Ferraud in the Rue de Varennes. "How is it that he, so rich as he is, and such a favorite with the King, is not yet a peer of France?
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