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Updated: June 26, 2025
Towards autumn she had one evening seen him enter, with red eyes and in the agony of a great sorrow; his brother, Abbe Jouve, was dead. In her turn she comforted him. What followed she could not recall with any exactitude of detail. The Abbe ever seemed to stand behind them, and influenced by thought of him she succumbed resignedly.
Everybody once more indulged in a peal of laughter, the Abbe Jouve being the first to do so. He bent forward to look, his little eyes twinkling with glee. "Yes, certainly," said he; "it is a leg of mutton. I think I should have known it." Despite this remark, there was something about the Abbe that day which betokened unusual absent-mindedness.
Abbe Jouve lauded him to the skies, though he knew that he was no church-goer. He spoke of him, however, as a man of upright character, charitable to a fault, a good father, and a good husband in fact, one who gave the best of examples to others. As for Madame Deberle she was most estimable, in spite of her somewhat flighty ways, which were doubtless due to her Parisian education.
And whom, pray?" she suddenly asked the priest, as she laid her work down on the table. "You have some one in view, have you not?" Abbe Jouve rose from his chair and stalked slowly up and down. Without halting, he nodded assent. "Well! tell me who he is," she said. For a moment he lingered before her erect, then, shrugging his shoulders, said: "What's the good, since you decline?"
Poor old Jouve! No doubt he thought that we did not want him to participate in this review of our troops in the fear that his emotion would be too much for him, so he carefully avoided speaking of it. I still wonder what will power, what spurt of vitality it had taken to put him on his feet again in all the trappings of war.
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