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And what was truth to him in the face of that great passion which had flung him prostrate in spirit at her adored feet! And now it was done! Fatality had willed it! With the eyes of a mortal struck by the maddening thunderbolt of the gods, Renouard looked up to the sky, an immense black pall dusted over with gold, on which great shudders seemed to pass from the breath of life affirming its sway.
He will consider it the greatest honour. Geoff, my boy, you had better be stirring to- morrow bright and early about the preparations for the trip. It would be criminal to lose a single day." He was as flushed as Willie, the excitement keeping up the effect of the festive dinner. For a time Renouard, silent, as if he had not heard a word of all that babble, did not stir.
She rose with a sort of ostentation. "It's late and since we are going to sleep on board to-night . . ." she said. "But it does seem so cruel." The professor started up eagerly, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. "Infinitely more sensible, my dear Emma." Renouard waited behind Miss Moorsom's chair. She got up slowly, moved one step forward, and paused looking at the shore.
Renouard guessed in him a man whom an incurable habit of investigation and analysis had made gentle and indulgent; inapt for action, and more sensitive to the thoughts than to the events of existence. Withal not crushed, sub-ironic without a trace of acidity, and with a simple manner which put people at ease quickly.
Renouard fancied himself overturning the table, smashing crystal and china, treading fruit and flowers under foot, seizing her in his arms, carrying her off in a tumult of shrieks from all these people, a silent frightened mortal, into some profound retreat as in the age of Cavern men.
I subjoin the text of this memorable edict: "The High Court of Justice, considering the sixty-eighth article of the constitution, considering that printed placards, beginning with the words 'The President of the Republic, and bearing at the end the signatures of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte and De Moony, Minister of the Interior, which placards announce among other things, the dissolution of the National Assembly, have this day been affixed to the walls of Paris; that this fact of the dissolution of the Assembly by the President of the Republic would fall under the case provided for by the sixty-eighth article of the constitution, and render the convocation of the High Court of Justice imperative, by the terms of that article declares that the High Court is constituted, and names M. Renouard, counsellor of the Court of Cassation, to fill the duties of public accuser; and to fill those of greffier, M. Bernard, Greffier-en-chef of the Court of Cassation; and, to proceed further in pursuance of the terms of the said sixty-eighth article of the constitution, adjourns until to-morrow, December 3d, at the hour of noon.
Renouard raised his eyes, repressed an impulse to jump up, and got out of the arm-chair slowly. "It isn't perhaps a bad idea," he said. "I'll have to call there in any case." He wondered whether he had managed to keep his voice steady, its tone unconcerned enough; for his emotion was strong though it had nothing to do with the business aspect of this suggestion.
It is no longer possible," says M. Renouard, with strong reason, "to stifle competitors by combining in corporations and guilds; the loss is supplied by patents." Why has the legislator given hands to this conspiracy of monopolies, to this interdict upon theories belonging to all? But what is the use of continually questioning one who can say nothing?
Then like a grave song-note in the storm her voice came to him ominously. "Ah! Mr. Renouard. . . " He came up and smiled, but she was very serious. "I can't keep still any longer. Is there time to walk up this headland and back before dark?" The shadows were lying lengthened on the ground; all was stillness and peace. "No," said Renouard, feeling suddenly as steady as a rock.
Renouard disengaged himself from that most perfidious of men under the pretence of astonishment, and stepping back a pace "Surely you are making fun of me, Professor Moorsom," he said with a low laugh, which was really a sound of rage. "My dear young friend! It's no subject for jokes, to me. . . You don't seem to have any notion of your prestige," he added, walking away towards the chairs.
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