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The author of the Clamor was Peter Du Moulin, a son of the celebrated French Calvinist preacher of the same name. The author not daring to entrust his pamphlet to an English press, had sent it over to Holland, where it was printed under the supervision of Alexander Morus.
A violent reflux of the multitude soon forced them to stop, whilst a new storm of savage outcries burst from the other extremity of the square, near the angle of the church. "What is it then?" asked Ninny Moulin of one of those ignoble figures that was leaping up before him. "What are those cries?"
The painter, more struck than all the rest by this effect of color, exclaimed: "Look! at this end of the table, we might fancy ourselves feasting with cholera-patients, we are such fine blues and greens." This jest was not much relished. Fortunately, the loud voice of Ninny Moulin demanded attention, and for a moment turned the thoughts of the company.
The road was endlessly broken up, sometimes by the traffic, sometimes by shell, and as endlessly repaired by troops specially assigned to the task. And presently we are passing the Moulin des Regrets, where Castelnau and Pétain met on the night of the 25th, and the resolution was taken to counter-attack instead of withdrawing.
"Sir," answered the waiter, with an air of triumph, "we just happen to have a large copper caldron, quite new. It has been used, and would hold at least thirty bottles." "Bring the caldron!" said Ninny Moulin, majestically. "The caldron forever!" shouted the chorus.
"My!" said Rose-Pompon; "it is for the little mysterious old man, who has such extraordinary ways. Does it come from far?" "I believe you; it comes from Italy, from Rome," said Ninny Moulin, looking in his turn at the letter, which the greengrocer held in her hand. "Who is the astonishing little old man of whom you speak?"
Visitors to the Bay of Moulin Huêt, as well as to other parts of this and the surrounding Islands, may have observed a crimson appearance on the rocks, suggesting very sanguinary ideas, but for which, geologists doubtless, would be able to account in a very satisfactory manner.
That moment the door was opened, and Cephyse, ran towards it. She saw in the passage a deputation headed by Ninny Moulin, who was armed with his formidable rattle, and followed by Rose-Pompon and Sleepinbuff. "The Bacchanal Queen! or I poison myself with a glass of water;" cried Ninny Moulin.
He left the same day, after having chosen a yellow horse from the stables of the château. He put on top-boots and an overcoat belonging to Bonnoeil, and left by a little door in the wall of the park. Soyer led him as far as the Moulin des Quatre-Vents on the highroad. Lefebre took the Neubourg road so as to avoid Evreux and Louviers.
"What! because I called you Rodin instead of Charlemagne?" cried Rose Pompon, much regretting the pleasantry which she had carried on at the instigation of Ninny Moulin. "But really, sir," she added, "what can this joke have to do with the service that you were, about to render Jacques?" "I am not at liberty to tell you, my child. In truth, I am very sorry for poor Jacques.
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