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Updated: May 20, 2025
She was puzzled, and looked the picture of bewilderment. I whispered in her ear, "Gilbert Baret, Rue des Prouveres," and certain other facts which could only be known to herself and a fortunate lover. She saw I knew her inmost secrets, and drawing me away she begged me to tell her who I was.
She was puzzled, and looked the picture of bewilderment. I whispered in her ear, "Gilbert Baret, Rue des Prouveres," and certain other facts which could only be known to herself and a fortunate lover. She saw I knew her inmost secrets, and drawing me away she begged me to tell her who I was.
"The gentleman is very good," said the husband, "and I am sure he will be satisfied, as my stockings are genuine silk." Next Tuesday at day-break I began to dance attendance at the corner of the Rue des Prouveres, and waited there till the servant came out to take down the shutters. I went in and the girl asked me my business. "I want to buy some stockings," was my answer.
Honore and the Rue des Prouveres, and I hope that you will deal with us, as we would serve you with the best." "I shall certainly do so nay, I will be your first customer, if I have to wait at the door." "You are kind! M. Baret," said she to her husband, who was standing close by, "this gentleman promises to be our first customer."
Honore and the Rue des Prouveres, and I hope that you will deal with us, as we would serve you with the best." "I shall certainly do so nay, I will be your first customer, if I have to wait at the door." "You are kind! M. Baret," said she to her husband, who was standing close by, "this gentleman promises to be our first customer."
Cotenfau, with M. de Polignac, which took place five or six years later, was the result of our cabalistic calculations. The fair stocking-seller of the Rue des Prouveres, whom I had loved so well, was no longer in Paris. She had gone off with a M. de Langlade, and her husband was inconsolable. Camille was ill.
"The gentleman is very good," said the husband, "and I am sure he will be satisfied, as my stockings are genuine silk." Next Tuesday at day-break I began to dance attendance at the corner of the Rue des Prouveres, and waited there till the servant came out to take down the shutters. I went in and the girl asked me my business. "I want to buy some stockings," was my answer.
Cotenfau, with M. de Polignac, which took place five or six years later, was the result of our cabalistic calculations. The fair stocking-seller of the Rue des Prouveres, whom I had loved so well, was no longer in Paris. She had gone off with a M. de Langlade, and her husband was inconsolable. Camille was ill.
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