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Updated: June 20, 2025
The principals in the fight are here, seconds are, as their name implies, a secondary matter. We must do without them." "By no means!" exclaimed Miraudin, "We have them! Here they are! You, Jeanne, will you be my second how often you have seconded me in many a devil's game and you cochon d'un cocher! you will for once in your life support the honour of a Marquis!"
Un veritable drame!" said Miraudin, pausing, as he found himself face to face with the Marquis Fontenelle. Fontenelle stared haughtily. "Did you speak to me, Monsieur?" he enquired, glancing the actor up and down with an air of supreme disdain. Miraudin laughed carelessly.
The lilies of France! emblems of honour, loyalty, truth, and chivalry! what smudged and trampled blossoms they seem to day! He frowned as this fancy crossed his mind, and turned his eyes away from the following of Angela's slight form up the aisle; and his glance fell instead on a face he detested, because it was almost the counterpart of his own, the face of the great French actor Miraudin.
You will not journey with me because you think the Comtesse Sylvie will hear of it, and put a wrong construction on your courtesy. You wish to try for once, to give her no cause for doubting you to be sans peur et sans reproche. You wish to make her think you something better than a sort of Miraudin whose amorous inclinations are not awakened by one woman, but by women!
It is to keep a harem like a grand Turk; and woe betide the woman who joins the company without understanding that she is to be one of the many! The sultana is the 'leading lady'. Poor Miraudin! he must have many little faggots to feed his flame! Oh, you look so shocked! But the Marquis is just like him, he also stage-manages." "In what way?" "Ah, he has an enormous theatre, the world!
Deliberately Fontenelle dug his heel into the ground and measured twelve paces from that mark between himself and his antagonist. Then with cold courtesy he stood aside for Miraudin to assure himself that the measurement was correct.
My horse, which my unfortunate friend Fontenelle rode, is gone, and if it could be discovered, its possessor might furnish a clue; but I imagine it will be difficult, if not impossible to trace the witnesses of the combat. The woman Richaud is on her way to Paris. But by this time all Rome knows of the death of Miraudin; and in a few hours all the world will know!"
"To his proposal." "Of marriage?" "Dear me, no!" And Sylvie smiled, but there was a look of pain in her eyes, "He has an idyllic house buried in the Foret St. Germain, and he wants me to take possession . . . you know the rest! He is a villain? Yes he is like Miraudin, who has a luxurious flat in Paris and sends each lady of his harem there in turn. How angry you look!
I wish I wish the tears would come!" And as she spoke she reeled and uttering a little cry like that of a wounded bird, dropped senseless. The death of the famous actor Miraudin was a nine days' wonder, and about a three weeks' regret.
You are a little mad, the moonlight is too much for you! To-morrow I will kiss you, when the sun rises or if I am not here why, somebody else will!" "Who is the woman you are fighting for?" she suddenly demanded, springing up from her crouching position with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. Miraudin looked at her with nonchalant admiration.
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