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Updated: June 15, 2025
"He has talked, he sang, he called me Sister Germaine, and has made proposals to me. I am not offended, but it is a proof that his mind wanders." "Alas!" I exclaimed, "if you had not betrayed me, Jahel, to ramble about the country in company with a gallant, my dear master would not lie in bed stabbed in his breast." "It is the misery of our friend," she replied, "that causes me bitter regrets.
The carriage was moving on, but Friar Ange clung to the door, with hand outstretched, begging pitifully. I sank into the cushions. "Alas, sir," I exclaimed, "did you not tell me that Jahel was locked in threefold?" "My son," replied my good master, "not too much confidence may be placed in women, who always play their tricks on the jealous and their locks.
It is not to be supposed that yonder coach, which had not a wheel broken, not a horse lamed, would have remained standing still on the road. What for?" "Yes, what for?" said Jahel. "Our supper," said my good tutor, "reminds me of the simplicity of the repasts described in the Bible, where the pious traveller divided with an angel, on the bank of the river, the fishes of the Tigris.
"You don't know him," she replied, and sighed. "He is occupied with naught but myself. He loves me as much as he hates the rest of the universe. He loves me in a manner "In a manner?" " In all the manners in short he loves me." "Jahel, I shudder to hear you. Good heavens: that Mosaide loves you without that disinterestedness which is so admirable in an old man, and so well suited for an uncle?
At the very moment my dear tutor spoke these words a violent shock brought down a rain of glass on our heads, in such confusion that I felt myself blinded, as well as suffocated under Jahel's petticoats, while the abbe complained in a smothered voice that M. d'Anquetil's sword had broken the remainder of his teeth, and over my head Jahel screamed fit to tear to pieces all the air of the Burgundian valleys.
Released, alas! from that delicious embrace, we looked at one another with surprise. Occupied to get up again decently she put her dress in order and remained silent. "I love you," I said. "What is your name?" I did not think her to be a Salamander, and to say the truth never did think so. "My name is Jahel," she said. "What! you're the niece of Mosaide?" "Yes; but keep quiet. If he should know "
The abbe replied with an air of nobility and honesty, with a natural indulgence for human weaknesses, an obliging sweetness, and the imprudent kindness of an easy heart by all of which men are often induced to do inconsiderate things and expose themselves to the severity of the futile judgments of mankind: "I will not keep it a secret from you, my dear Tournebroche, that, giving way to the pressing solicitations of that young gentleman, I obligingly promised to go on his errand to Jahel and to neglect nothing to induce her to elope with him."
The memory of Jahel, smarting at first, was smoothed down little by little, and nothing remained but a vague irritation, of which she was no longer the only object. M. Blaizot aged quickly. He retired to Montrouge, to his cottage in the fields, and sold me his shop against a life annuity.
One of them said to Jahel that Gaulard on the market place lodges man and beast. "As to the surgeon, Coquebert, you'll see him yonder under the shaving plate which serves as his trade sign. He leaves his house to go to his vineyard." He was a very polite little man. He told us that he had a bed free in his house, as a short time ago his daughter had got married.
Entering the post inn I found Jahel in the corner of the fireplace, where five or six fowls were roasting on a spit. She was warming her feet, and showed part of a silken stocking, which was a great trouble to me, because it brought her leg to my mind. I seemed to see all the beauty of her satin skin, the down, and all other striking circumstances.
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