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Updated: May 9, 2025
At first the neighbours gave out sinister suspicions as to Jean's intentions, for sea-going with your own wife was uncommon among the sailors of the coast. But at last these dark suggestions settled down into a belief that Jean took her chiefly for ballast; and thereafter she was familiarly called "Femme de Ballast." Talking was no virtue in her eyes.
Did his father let him go?" Mary's voice was full of relief. Mrs. Butler was Jean's cousin, a cheery matron who had taken a summer cottage at Broadsands, twenty miles away. Julia's color rose; she looked uneasy. "Mr. Carolan had to go to Barville quite early," she evaded uncomfortably, "and when Mrs. Butler asked could she take Peter, his mother said yes, she could."
"Oh, he'll forget all about that," said Gertrude, "and, of course, we don't mean to remind him." "Why not?" "Because he is not to be trusted at present," said Andrew. A quick flush irradiated Jean's clear face. "He is to be trusted. He is to be trusted far more than ever before in his life!" The three counselors exchanged glances. "We know better than you do," said Mrs. Ramornie severely.
At this display of English on Jean's part the English-speaking Hollanders began laughing. "The son of a bitch is crazy," one said. And from that moment B. and I got on famously with Jean. His mind was a child's. His use of language was sometimes exalted fibbing, sometimes the purely picturesque. He courted above all the sound of words, more or less disdaining their meaning.
And when she had answered yes, he continued: "It was a mating as birds mate, but mating was it, and holy fathers and Master Devil Doltaire can't change it till cock-pheasant Moray come rocketing to 's grave. They would have hanged me for my part in it, but I repent not, for they have wickedly hunted this little lady." "I weep with her," said Jean's wife. "Ay, ay, weep on, Babette," he answered.
Her education was accomplished with some difficulty, though it was not such a task as it might have been, because Jean's occupation kept him at home; his house being in one of the streets in that complication of little alleys and thoroughfares to most Londoners utterly unknown; within the sound of St. Bride's nevertheless, and lying about a hundred yards north of Fleet Street.
"It is a sickness the children have each winter," she explained, looking questioningly into Philip's eyes again. "It kills quickly when left alone. But I have medicine that will cure it. There is still time. We must go, Philip. We must!" Her face had paled a little. She saw the gathering lines in Philip's forehead. He thought of Jean's words the warning they carried.
According to his story there were no end of giants and trolls and kings concerned in the building of it," she went on, furtively watching the deepening pink in Lucy's cheek. "The Wolfburgh of Charlemagne's day was besieged by him, and another entertained St. Louis and all his crusaders within the walls." Jean's voice rose shrilly and her eyes glowed.
We were walking now under cover of the trees which lined the sides of the path, so that no backward glance could discover us to the thieves; and I was wondering how long we were thus to dog their steps, when suddenly they turned to the left about fifty yards short of the spot where old Jean's cottage stood, and disappeared from our sight. We emerged into the path, the duke taking the lead.
Her main and mizzen masts were not visible, and her colours could not be seen, but Jean's quick eye had lighted on something which made him cast apprehensive glances at his wife and Guida. There was a gun in the stern port-hole of the vanishing brig; and he also noted that it was run out for action. His swift glance at his wife and Guida assured him that they had not noticed the gun.
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