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Updated: May 5, 2025
What an unexpected and welcome surprise! For weeks I had hunted in vain for a thoroughbred. I had never hoped to be given one from the kennels of Monsieur de Savignac's château. "Enchanted, Pierre!" I cried "Present my compliments to Monsieur de Savignac. Tell him how sincerely grateful I am, and say that he may expect me to-morrow before noon."
I could easily imagine what a beauty my spaniel would be, clean-limbed and alert like the ones in the coloured lithographs. "No wonder," I thought, as Pierre left me, "that every peasant for miles around spoke of this good Monsieur de Savignac's generosity. Here he was giving me a dog. To me, his American neighbour, whom he had never met!"
By the end of the waltz De Savignac's eyes were shining. Boldi turned to our table and bowed. I have it!" I exclaimed. "Play the legend and the mad dance that follows the one that Racz Laczi loved the legend of the young man who went up the mountain and met the girl who jilted him." Boldi nodded his head and grinned with savage enthusiasm.
Then he muttered something in his peasant accent and sat glowering into his empty coffee cup as I turned and left the room, my mind reverting to Madame de Savignac's door which his coarse hand had closed with a vicious snap.
"I was once groom in his stables oui, monsieur, and he married us when he was Mayor of Hirondelette, and he paid our rent oui, monsieur, and the doctor and...." "We'll proceed, Pierre," said I. "A man of de Savignac's kind in the world is so rare that one should do nothing to thwart him." We walked on for some distance along the edge of a swamp carpeted with strong ferns.
At forty-six he married the niece of an impoverished old wasp, a gentleman still in excellent health, owing to de Savignac's generosity. It was his good wife now, who read the balance statement.
Most of this Pierre, who was leading me through the leafy lane that led to de Savignac's home, knew or could have known, for it was common talk in the country around, but his mind to-day was not on de Savignac's past, but on the dog which we both were so anxious to see.
It is called the garçonnière." "But the château, Pierre?" "It is rented to a Peruvian gentleman, monsieur, who takes in boarders." "Pierre!" I exclaimed, "we go no farther. I knew nothing of this. I am not going to accept a dog from a gentleman in Monsieur de Savignac's unfortunate circumstances. It is not right. No, no.
"Come in," said he, forcing a faint laugh -he stopped for a moment as he closed and locked the gate labouring painfully for his breath. Then he slipped his arm under my own. "Come along," he whispered, struggling for his voice. "I have found another bottle of Musigny." A funeral, like a wedding or an accident, is quickly over. The sale of de Savignac's château consumed three days of agony.
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