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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Oh, I tek you' word fo' hall dad, Madame Carraze. It mague no differend wad she loog lag; I don' wan' see 'er." Madame Delphine's parting smile she went very shortly was gratitude beyond speech. Monsieur Vignevielle returned to the seat he had left, and resumed a newspaper, the Louisiana Gazette in all probability, which he had laid down upon Madame Delphine's entrance.
"Miché," she replied, looking up again with a tear standing in either eye, and then looking down once more as she began to speak, "I thing I thing she's lonesome." "You thing?" She nodded. "Ah! Madame Carraze," he said, partly extending his hand, "you see? 'Tis impossible to mague you' owze shud so tighd to priv-en dad. Madame, I med one mizteg." "Ah, non, Miché!" "Yez.
Iv you will tell me wad dad mague you cry, I will tell you on ma second word of honor" she rolled up her fist "juz wad I thing about dad 'Sieur Frowenfel'!" "I don't kyah wad de whole worl' thing aboud 'im!" "Mais, anny'ow, tell me fo' wad you cryne!" Clotilde gazed aside for a moment and then confronted her questioner consentingly. "I tole 'im I knowed 'e was h-innocen'."
"Madame Carraze," he said, turning so suddenly as to make the frightened little woman start, but extending his palm with a show of frankness, and assuming a look of benignant patience, "'ow I kin fine doze note now, mongs' all de rez? Iv you p'iz nod to mague me doze troub'."
"I wend ad 'is shob to pay doze rend." "How you wend ad 'is shob to pay " Clotilde produced the bracelet. The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, while Aurora took in without further explanation Clotilde's project and its failure. "An' 'Sieur Frowenfel' dey kill 'im? Ah! Ma chère, fo' wad you mague me to hass all dose question?"
He took pains to speak first, saying, in a re-assuring tone, and in the language he had last heard her use: "'Ow I kin serve you, Madame?" "Iv you pliz, to mague dad bill change, Miché." She pulled from her pocket a wad of dark cotton handkerchief, from which she began to untie the imprisoned note. Madame Delphine had an uncommonly sweet voice, and it seemed so to strike Monsieur Vignevielle.
"Miché, she's a lill' hangel!" exclaimed Madame Delphine, with a look of distress. "Yez; I teg kyah 'v 'er, lag my h-own. I mague you dad promise." "But" There was something still in the way, Madame Delphine seemed to think. The banker waited in silence. "I suppose you will want to see my lill' girl?" He smiled; for she looked at him as if she would implore him to decline.
Now his decision was made, and he touched her softly with the ends of his fingers. "Madame Delphine, I want you to go at 'ome Go at 'ome." "Wad you goin' mague?" she asked. "Nottin'. But go at 'ome. Kip quite; don put you'se'f sig. I goin' see Ursin. We trah to figs dat aw fo' you." "You kin figs dad!" she cried, with a gleam of joy. "We goin' to try, Madame Delphine. Adieu!" He offered his hand.
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