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"Look," Magnan said. "You." "My name's Illy." "Mr. Illy, this man showed you mercy when he could have had you beaten." "Keep moving. Yeah, I said I was grateful." "Yes," Magnan said, swallowing hard. "A noble emotion, gratitude. You won't regret it." "I always try to pay back a good turn," Illy said. "Watch your step now on this sea-wall." "You'll never regret it," Magnan said.
St.-Arnaud, as Minister of War, opposed the measure on constitutional grounds, dilating on the danger of a divided military command, but during the discussion Maupas and Magnan were in the gallery of the Chamber, waiting to give orders to St.-Arnaud to call out the troops and to surround and dissolve the Chamber if the proposition was carried.
It is thus seen that we have here physiological and biological acts of different manifestations and purposes. The tic movements have a certain significance at the time of their performance. The physiological functions are definite. The Magnan school insisted that tics are not morbid entities but episodic syndromes of mental degeneration.
"Vug and Toscin will be glad to see me," he said. "But they'll never believe me." He lay down. Retief strapped his feet together and stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth. "Why are you doing that?" Magnan asked. "We need him." "We know the way. And we don't need anyone to announce our arrival. It's only on three-dee that you can march a man through a gang of his pals with a finger in his back."
"Crank it over to the left," Retief said. "I'm getting tired." "Shift to a lower gear." The tower leaned. The ball stirred, rolled into a concentric channel. Retief shifted to middle gear, worked the lever. The tower creaked to a stop, started back upright. "There isn't any lower gear," Magnan gasped. One of the two on the other side of the tower shifted to middle gear; the other followed suit.
The people rallied and erected barricades, which of course were swept away by the cannon of General Magnan, accompanied by needless cruelties and waste of blood, probably with the view to inspire fear and show that resistance was hopeless. Paris and its vicinity were now in the hands of the usurper, supported by the army and police, and his enemies were in prison.
"I'm interested in something big." The broad-shouldered man lit a perfumed dope stick. "What would you call big?" he said softly. "What's the biggest you've got?" The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. "Maybe you'd like to try Slam." "Tell me about it." "Over here." The crowd opened up, made a path. Retief and Magnan followed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box.
Illy, hands strapped behind his back, stood by and watched as Retief and Magnan removed medals, ribbons, orders and insignia from the formal diplomatic garments. "This may help some," Retief said, "if the word is out that two diplomats are loose." "It's a breeze," Illy said. "We see cats in purple and orange tailcoats all the time." "I hope you're right," Retief said.
It is a sad business, and all the more so because I don't know how I can settle it. THE WIFE. What is it all about, Adolph? You are a wretch if you do not tell me what you are going to do! THE HUSBAND. My dear, that ass of a Prosper Magnan is fighting a duel with M. de Fontanges, on account of an Opera singer. But what is the matter with you? THE WIFE. Nothing.
They worked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower quivered, moved slowly toward their side. "I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in the chair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever with his left hand. "Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched the button and slumped back, panting. "My arm," he said.
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