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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Monsieur Le Menil, if next year a dolphin comes to swim near your boat, I pray you play to him on the flute the Delphic Hymn to Apollo. Do you like the sea, Monsieur Le Menil?" "I prefer the woods." Self-contained, simple, he talked quietly. "Oh, Monsieur Le Menil, I know you like woods where the hares dance in the moonlight." Dechartre, pale, rose and went out. The church scene was on.
His apartment was small, narrow, insufficient for his wife and his five daughters. He had been forced to put his workshop under the roof. He made long complaints, and consented to go only after Madame Martin had promised that she would speak to her husband. "Monsieur Le Menil," asked Miss Bell, "shall you go yachting next year?" Le Menil thought not. He did not intend to keep the Rosebud.
He also related to me his hunting adventures. He likes animals. I have observed that hunters like animals. I assure you, darling, that Monsieur Le Menil talks admirably about hares. He knows their habits. He said to me it was a pleasure to look at them dancing in the moonlight on the plains.
But I have reflected. I have thought of everything. It is the only possible thing. Think of it, Therese, and do not reply at once." "It would be wrong to deceive you. I can not, I will not do what you say; and you know the reason why." A cab was passing slowly near them. She made a sign to the coachman to stop. Le Menil kept her a moment longer.
She made a sign to Paul Vence who was near her: "Do you not think Madame Martin is extraordinarily beautiful this year?" In the lobby, full of light and gold, General de La Briche asked Lariviere: "Did you see my nephew?" "Your nephew, Le Menil?" "Yes Robert. He was in the theatre a moment ago." La Briche remained pensive for a moment. Then he said: "He came this summer to Semanville.
She did not dare to think of the future. She lived in the present, happy, anxious, and closing her eyes. She was dreaming thus, in the shade traversed by arrows of light, when Pauline brought to her some letters with the morning tea. On an envelope marked with the monogram of the Rue Royale Club she recognized the handwriting of Le Menil. She had expected that letter.
Turning to the north he looked down from his position upon the extended and complex system of defenses of the citadel, the frowning curtains black with age, the green expanses of the turfed glacis, the stern bastions that reared their heads at geometrically accurate angles, prominent among them the three cyclopean salients, the Ecossais, the Grand Jardin, and la Rochette, while further to the west, in extension of the line, were Fort Nassau and Fort Palatinat, above the faubourg of Menil.
"A singular letter," continued Montessuy. "Le Menil will not come to Joinville. He has bought the yacht Rosebud. He is on the Mediterranean, and can not live except on the water. It is a pity. He is the only one who knows how to manage a hunt."
She said: "Without you, I did not know how to see anything. Why did you not come to me before?" He closed her lips with a kiss. Then she said: "Yes, I love you! Yes, I never have loved any one but you!" Le Menil had written: "I leave tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Meet me at the station." She had gone to meet him.
But I have reflected. I have thought of everything. It is the only possible thing. Think of it, Therese, and do not reply at once." "It would be wrong to deceive you. I can not, I will not do what you say; and you know the reason why." A cab was passing slowly near them. She made a sign to the coachman to stop. Le Menil kept her a moment longer.
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