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Updated: June 21, 2025
This letter of Clotilde's has brought me a great happiness. Yes, I was going to send for her; but the thought of my poverty, of the privations she would have to endure here, spoiled for me the joy of her return. And now fortune has come back, at least enough to set up my little establishment again!" In the expansion of his feelings he held out the letter to Ramond, and forced him to read it.
Low moans escaped him, in spite of his courage. Good God! would this torture never end? And yet his most ardent desire was to prolong his agony, to live long enough to embrace Clotilde a last time. If he might only be deceiving himself, as Ramond persisted in declaring. If he might only live until five o'clock.
Provence, Count de, married to the Princess Joséphine Louise of Savoy. Provence, Countess de. Provinces, outrages in the. Prussia allies with Russia. and the declaration of Pilnitz. Public thanksgiving at the birth of Madame Royale; at the birth of the dauphin. Race-course established in the Bois de Boulogne. Ramond, M.. Red cap of liberty worn.
And she went on to settle her account, arranging the affair like a practical woman who knew the value of money. "Since I have the means, I will go and live quietly on my income somewhere. As for you, mademoiselle, I can leave you, for you are not poor. M. Ramond will explain to you to-morrow how an income of four thousand francs was saved for you out of the money at the notary's.
Ramond was absent from home, attending a consultation at Marseilles, and he would not be back until the following evening. And it young Mme. Ramond, an old friend of Clotilde's, some three years her junior, who received them. She seemed a little embarrassed, but she was very amiable, notwithstanding.
Ramond, to answer that he would not receive him, he had, in this bitter desire for solitude, no other aim than to kill thought by incessant labor. That poor Ramond, how gladly he would have embraced him! for he divined clearly the delicacy of feeling that had made him hasten to console his old master. But why lose an hour? Why risk emotions and tears which would leave him so weak?
As for saving his manuscripts he would perhaps find a means of doing so, he would try to have the strength to part from them and give them to Ramond.
As he never left his room now before breakfast, Clotilde had received Dr. Ramond this morning in the study, and they were talking there together in an undertone, sitting beside each other in the bright sunshine. It was the third visit which Ramond had made during the last week.
Ramond, listening again, said in an undertone: "Yes, the beat is strong, the first sound is dull, while the second, on the contrary, is sharp. It is evident that the apex has descended and is turned toward the armpit. There is some sclerosis, at least it is very probable. One may live twenty years with that," he ended, straightening himself. "No doubt, sometimes," said Pascal.
"Yes, yes, go quickly, my good Ramond, and come back again to see us the day after to-morrow. She will be here then, and I want you to come and embrace us." The day was long, and the following morning, at about four o'clock, shortly after Pascal had fallen asleep, after a happy vigil filled with hopes and dreams, he was wakened by a dreadful attack.
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