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For all that, she received Constantin Marc's visit with pleasure, for she found him sympathetic. He was getting excited. In order to conceal his agitation he made a pretence of talking about his woods in the Vivarais, and began to tell shooting stories and peasants' tales, which he did not finish. "I am in a funk," said Nanteuil. "And you, Monsieur Marc, don't you feel qualms in the stomach?"
"Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his ears soundly while he was getting Marc in hand again. Bettie's rage was fleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Milton turned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave and cavalier.
Marc's, a pinkish pastry-like affair and walked through the Tuileries which were full of people strolling about or sitting in the sun, of doll-like children and nursemaids with elaborate white caps, of fluffy little dogs straining at the ends of leashes. Suddenly a peaceful sleepiness came over him.
But the height of Bragdon's realism in telling his story of Venice was reached when, diving down into the innermost recesses of his vest pocket, he brought forth a silver filigree effigy of a gondola, which he handed me with the statement that it was for me. "I got that in the plaza of St. Marc's.
And for the time being they think more ill than good of him." Adolphe Meunier informed him, with a pale smile, that the house was a good one, and that the critics thought the play showed very careful writing. He expected, in return, a few complimentary words concerning his Pandolphe et Clarimonde. But it did not enter Constantin Marc's head to vouchsafe them. Romilly shook his head.
At first, these were accepted; but Robin was sure that Marc's rabbit would pine alone; and Marc was certain Robin's pigeon could never live solitary; and they gave up these last remains of their treasures. To do it with a good grace was more than they were equal to; and when Marie and her father set off for the chateau, they left the boys crying bitterly.
Navvy stared and muttered to himself. It appeared when Navvy swung himself over Marc's broad back, that our great stallion had laid aside his transiently noble disposition and was himself again. Marc proceeded to show us how truly Jim had spoken: "Shore he ain't no use for the redskin."
And I wish I hadn't thrown Marc's ball into the fire that day I was angry with him. How unkind he was to say that but I wasn't always kind to him. And once I said that I wished a bear would eat Pierre up. That was because he broke my cup. Oh, dear, oh, dear. What a bad girl I've been to them all." "But you could be better and kinder if you tried, couldn't you?" said the inward voice.
He slipped the loop fastening one paw, which loosened the rope, and in a twinkling let her work all of her other paws free. Up she sprang, ears flat, eyes ablaze, mouth wide, once more capable of defense, true to her instinct and her name. Before the men lowered Tom from Marc's back I stepped closer and put my face within six inches of the lion's. He promptly spat on me.
Yes, bring the shawl; you'll need it t' keep the snow off your face," he called, authoritatively. "'Tain't snowin', is it?" she asked as she shut the door and came to the sleigh's side. "Clear as a bell," he said as he helped her in. "Then where'll the snow come from?" "From Marc's heels." "Goodness sakes! you don't expect me t' ride after that wild-headed critter, do you?"
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