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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Grant, did you ever see my little sweetheart, Jinny Carvel?" The Captain sighed. "She ain't little any more, and she eighteen to-day." Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead. "Say, Lige," said he, "that reminds me. A month or so ago I pulled a fellow out of Renault's area across from there. First I thought he was a thief.
Perhaps some day we can do it all, who knows?" "Plant new souls in place of the old!" Renault nodded gravely. "That's the true medicine the root medicine, to take an imperfect organism and develop it, mould it to the perfected idea. Life is plastic, human beings are plastic, that is one important thing to remember!" "But you are a surgeon?" Renault's lips quivered with one of his ironical smiles.
Hopper walked around the block, arriving again opposite the Carvel house, and beside Mr. Renault's, which was across from it. Eliphalet had inherited the principle of mathematical chances. It is a fact that the discreet sometimes take chances. Towards the back of Mr.
Renault surmises, quite correctly, that this severity was probably due to the fear that they would assist the Nawab. The following incident during Renault's captivity shows how little could be expected from the Nawab towards a friend who was no longer able to be of use to him.
Across the street Alphonse, M. Renault's butler, was depositing bags and bundles on the steps. M. Renault himself bustled out into the rain, gesticulating excitedly. Spying her at the window, he put his hands to his mouth, cried out something, and ran in again. Virginia flung open the sash and listened for the dreaded sound of drums.
Renault's private office was a large, square room with a north window that gave a broad view of the pointed Albany mountains. Along the walls were rows of unpainted wooden shelves on which were stacked books and pamphlets. One small piece of bronze on the shelf above the fireplace a copy of the seated Mercury in the Naples museum was the sole ornament in the room.
It was a long, low building of logs, and was always open with its accommodations to the Indians and half-breeds men, women, and children who came in from the forest trails. Renault and the Indian were helping Metoosin build fires when they entered. Philip thought that Renault's eyes rested upon him in a curious and searching glance even as Adare shook hands with him.
There must be something wrong with the universe when this man, the best type of hard, intelligent labor, should have become a public robber! ... Renault's solemn words repeated themselves, "The curse of our age, of our country, is its frantic egotism."
"Grant, did you ever see my little sweetheart, Jinny Carvel?" The Captain sighed. "She ain't little any more, and she eighteen to-day." Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead. "Say, Lige," said he, "that reminds me. A month or so ago I pulled a fellow out of Renault's area across from there. First I thought he was a thief.
The trial had already begun. Isabelle paced the narrow breadth of her chamber. Her husband was on trial, and he had not written her. His last letters, which she had destroyed, had betrayed signs of irritation, disturbance.... Renault's charge, "The curse of our day is egotism," rang in her ears.
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