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Updated: June 9, 2025
When I was at Dresden I had read in a number of the Cologne Gazette that "Master Casanova has returned to Warsaw only to be sent about his business again. The king has heard some stories of this famous adventurer, which compel him to forbid him his Court." I could not stomach language of this kind, and I resolved to pay Jacquet, the editor, a visit, and now my time had come.
"How miserably she lies there!" he said. "But she is not there," said Jacquet, "she is in your memory. Come, let us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are adorned like women for a ball." "Suppose we take her away?" "Can it be done?" "All things can be done!" cried Jules. "So, I shall lie there," he added, after a pause. "There is room enough."
"You killed her," thought he. "Why was I distrusted?" seemed the answer of the husband. The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers recognizing the futility of a struggle and, after a moment's hesitation, turning away, without even a roar. "Jacquet," said Jules, "have you attended to everything?"
Hemenway and McLeod clambered down and ran back, with the other trainmen and a few of the passengers. The moose was lying in the ditch beside the track, stone dead and frightfully shattered. But the great head and the vast, spreading antlers were intact. "Seelver-horrns, sure eneugh!" said McLeod, bending over him. "He was crossin' frae the Nepissiguit to the Jacquet; but he didna get across.
Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were visible in the interstices. They were as follows: "Don't be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions.
Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had made the private secretary of his own minister say a word.
The extreme delicacy with which he had managed the susceptibilities of a man both poor and modest; the respect with which he had surrounded him; the ingenious cleverness he had employed to nobly compel him to share his opulence without permitting it to make him blush, increased their friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to Desmarets in spite of his wealth.
Jacquet he was one of those who are worthy of Plutarch as biographer saw that he had made a mistake in his management of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by trying to proceed legally.
"Well, in the depths of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes itself heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of all agony until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall know all; I shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me then, Jacquet." "I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o'clock.
Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, comprehended the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, "I'll burn Paris!" Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate that receptacle of monstrous things. "But," he said to Jacquet, "you must go to the minister of the Interior, and get your minister to speak to him."
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