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I tell you the sober truth. A wife like yours should never be forsaken for a creature like Marianne!" "I love Adrienne sincerely!" replied Vaudrey eagerly. "And you deceive her entirely. That is foolish. You deserve that Mademoiselle Kayser should have ridiculed, deceived and ruined you irretrievably, and that your name should never be uttered again.
Instinctively he drew near her, lowering his voice, embracing with his glance that fine, charming beauty, that grief heightened by a burning brilliancy. She raised her fine, clear eyes to Lissac, whose look troubled her, and said: "And how have these served me? Kindness, trickery! Trickery, chastity! Ask all these men! All of them will go to Mademoiselle Kayser and not to me!"
" Marianne said to him, after that kiss that paled his cheeks. Rosas had risen: a thunder of applause greeted the termination of a song in the other salon and the throng was pouring into the smaller salon. Marianne saw Uncle Kayser, who was arguing with Ramel, whose kindly, lean face wore an expression of weariness.
Two lackeys hastily opening the door, rushed up to the halted carriage and stood at its door. "Adieu! Marianne," thought Sulpice, as he placed his foot in the antechamber of this vast mansion as cold as a tomb. She was still mechanically throwing crumbs of bread around her, which were eagerly snatched at by the many-colored ducks ... Marianne Kayser was superstitious.
Buried in the extraordinary adventures of the Kayser, not to be found in any Roman historian, and full of quaint and ludicrous jumbles of the ancient and the modern, I was suddenly stopped by finding that the last folios were missing.
In 1470, at the invitation of two doctors of the Sorbonne, Guillaume Fichet and Jean de la Puin, Ulmer Gering of Constance and two other Swiss printers set up a press near Fichet's rooms in the Sorbonne. Jacques, under the management of two Germans, Peter Kayser, Master of Arts, and John Stohl, assisted by Ulmer Gering.
Of dowry she had none. Her father had left her nothing. Kayser was poor and in debt. She had no occupation. To run about giving private lessons on the piano, seemed to Marianne to degrade her almost to the level of domestic service. Those who wished to pose for the Montyon prize might do so! She never would! Ah! what sufferings! what would be the end of such a life? Marriage? But who desired her?
If need be, without Adrienne's even knowing it, he could mortgage his farms at Saint-Laurent-du-Pont! "Monsieur de Rosas would not have hesitated. But in his case there would have been no merit," said Mademoiselle Kayser. At the name of that man, coupled with the recollection of him, Sulpice felt himself spurred to a decision.
"What are you looking at?" asked Kayser, as he followed his niece's glances about the room. "You seem to be making an inspection." "Precisely. And I am thinking that your studio would not fetch a very high figure at Drouot's auction mart." "Lofty and moral creations don't sell in times like these," gravely replied the old dauber.
At the first glance at this woman, Sulpice felt a strange emotion. His legs trembled and his heart was agitated. He could not be mistaken, he certainly recognized her. Either there was an extraordinary resemblance between them, or it was Mademoiselle Kayser herself. Marianne? Marianne on the edge of this Lake at an hour when there was no one at the Bois?
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