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Updated: May 5, 2025
"You know Manon Moignard the witch? Well, if you don't do what I say and I shall find out, mind you she shall bewitch the flood on you. Be still . . . listen! That's the sound you'll hear every day of your life, if you break the promise you've got to make to me now." He spoke the promise with ghostly deliberation, and the old man, all the desperado gone out of him, repeated it in a husky voice.
"But he has folded sails now." "Ma fe, yes, he sleeps like a porpoise now, and white as a wax he looked up there in the Cohue Royale," put in a centenier standing by. A voice came shrilly over the head of the centenier. "As white as you'll look yellow one day, bat'd'lagoule! Yellow and green, oui-gia yellow like a bad apple, and cowardly green as a leek." This was Manon Moignard the witch.
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