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Updated: June 7, 2025
She sat, with open mouth and glassy eye, in her chair, sidling herself to and fro, with the low, peevish sound of fretful age and bodily pain; sometimes this querulous murmur sharpened into a shrill but unmeaning scold: "There now, you gallows-bird! you has taken the swipes without chalking; you wants to cheat the poor widow; but I sees you, I does!
"What a gallows-bird!" said Pere Canquoelle to his neighbor Monsieur Pillerault. "Pshaw!" said Monsieur Camusot to all the company, for he alone had expressed no astonishment, "it is Contenson, Louchard's right-hand man, the police agent we employ in business. The rascals want to nab some one who is hanging about perhaps."
"That fellow, too, has a very dangerous gift of eloquence, M. le Marquis," he said. "In fact there are a number of such in France to-day. They grow from the soil, which you and yours have irrigated with the blood of the martyrs of liberty. Soon it may be your blood instead. The soil is parched, and thirsty for it." "Gallows-bird!" he was answered. "The police will do your affair for you.
This wretched gallows-bird got eye on me; Such is the lot of all earthly things; And so of our fine mystery The whole secret came to light." Ce malheureux pendard me vit, C'est le sort de toutes les choses; Ainsi de motre pot aux roses Tout le secret se decouvrit.
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