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Updated: June 25, 2025
"So we shall have to be very discreet and go cautiously about our sport. And it ought to be great fun, Maryette, to sail balloons out over the German trenches. We’ll tie a message to every one! Shall we, little comrade?" She clapped her hands. "That will enrage the Boches!" she cried, "You won’t forget to bring the balloons?" "After the carillon," he nodded, staring at her intently.
At my third visit, which occurred on the 30th day of November, 1845, I formed a class, consisting of Lyman L. Austin, Amanda M. Austin, Mrs. L. Martin, Mrs. Maria Langdon, David C. Jones and Maryette Jones. A protracted meeting was held soon after and thirty persons were converted. The fruit of this meeting carried the membership during the year up to twenty-five.
"Are the American gentlemen still at table, Julie?" she inquired. "Mademoiselle Maryette, they are devouring everything in the house!" exclaimed old Julie, flinging both hands toward heaven. "Tenez, mamzelle, I have heard of eating in ancient days, I have read of Gargantua, I have been told of banquets, of feasting, of appetites! But there is one American in there!
That Maryette girl’s plumb done in." "Sure she’s done in," nodded Kid Glenn. "Wouldn’t it do in anybody to shoot up a young man an’ then see him step off the top of a skyscraper?" Smith admitted that he himself had felt "kind er squeamish." He added: "Gawd, how he spread when he hit them flags! You didn’t look at him, did you, Kid?" "Naw. Say, d’ya think Maryette has gone to bed?" "I dunno.
For I am going to explain to you how you can strike if you want to." "I am listening," said Maryette serenely. "We may not live through it. Even my orders do not send me to do this thing; they merely permit it. Are you contented to go with me?" She nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips. "Very well. You play the carillon?" "Yes." "You can play ’La Brabançonne’?" "Yes." "On the bells?" "Yes."
Seated on the bedside, Maryette looked at it, schooling herself to think of it kindly as one of God’s creatures before she released it at her open window. And, as she sat there, something came whizzing into the room through her window, circled around her at terrific speed with a humming, whispering whirr, then dropped with a solid thud on the night table beside the imprisoned female moth.
The Sister of Charity turned and smiled at Maryette, made her a friendly gesture, threw in the clutch, and, twisting the steering wheel with both sun-browned hands, guided the machine out onto the road and sped away swiftly after the cloud of receding dust. "Drive on, mademoiselle," said the airman quietly.
Sunbeams laced the little river in a red net through which old Courtray’s quill stemmed the ripples. He still clutched his fishing pole, but his eyes were closed, his chin resting on his chest. Maryette came silently into the garden and looked at her father looked at the blond Karl seated on the river wall beside the dozing angler.
However, it signified little to the youthful mistress-of-the-bells, Maryette Courtray, called "Carillonnette," for her Yankee lover still lay in his distant hospital her muleteer, "Djack."
His cream-coloured, wall-eyed mule was saddled and waiting when he arrived; he stuffed his papers into the breast of his tunic and climbed into the saddle. "Allongs!" he exclaimed. "Hoop!" Half way to Nivelle, on an overgrown, bushy, circuitous path which was the only road open between Nivelle and Sainte Lesse, he overtook Maryette, driving her donkey and ancient market cart.
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