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Updated: May 19, 2025
I sought her in the streets, the shops, the theatre. I still blinded myself, and pretended that I only wanted to ask her pardon, so as to remove, before I left Paris, the unpleasant impression I had made at our first meeting. But now, Sylvestre, all these false reasons have disappeared, and the true one is clear. I love her!" "Not a doubt of it, my friend, not a doubt of it.
"Yes, on my faith!" replied Pol Bihan; "she loves you too well for her own peace. When a girl laughs too much, it is to keep from weeping, that's the real truth." Well might they call him "the fool," poor Sylvestre Ker! Not that he had less brains than another man, on the contrary, he was now very learned but love crazes him who places his affections on an unworthy object.
What animal do you wish to be, roaring lion, bellowing ox, bleating sheep, crowing cock? If you become a dog, you can crouch at Matheline's feet, and Bihan can lead you by a leash to hunt in the woods...." "I wish," cried Sylvestre Ker, whose anger burst forth at these words, "I wish to be a wolf, to devour them both!"
"And how did you receive this shower of interrogations, Jeanne?" "I replied, 'I don't know, Mademoiselle. And Mademoiselle then said to me, 'You are a little fool. The least details of the life of an eminent man ought to be observed. Please to know, Mademoiselle, that Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard is one of the glories of France!" "Stuff!" I exclaimed.
"Dear child!" said she. Then turning to me: "You are a good friend, Monsieur Fabien. Never have we celebrated a Saint Sylvester without you since you came to Paris." "Yet this evening, Madame, I have failed in my traditions, I have no flowers. But Sylvestre tells me that you have just received flowers from the south, from an unfortunate creditor." My words produced an unusual effect upon her.
Sylvestre stopped short, smiling scornfully, sublime, to let him fire, and seeing the direction of the aim, only shifted a little to the left. But with the pressure upon the trigger the barrel of the Chinese jingal deviated slightly in the same direction.
I tried to be funny, and fancied I succeeded. The old lady smiled faintly. Lampron remained grave, and tossed his head impatiently. I summed my story thus: "Net gain: two enemies, one of them charming." "Oh, enemies!" said Sylvestre, "they spring up like weeds. One can not prevent them, and great sorrows do not come from them. Still, beware of charming enemies." "She hates me, I swear.
"Yes, yes, yes!" "He will go!" "He will not go!" "He will go, since he promised Dame Josserande." "He will not go, since Matheline told him to stay." "My friend, my friend, to-night Sylvestre Ker will find the golden secret." "To-night, my friend, my friend, he will win the heart of the one he loves."
"'Sieur Frowenfel', Agricola writ'n' to Sylvestre to stop dat dool?" "Yes." "You goin' take dat lett' to Sylvestre?" "Yes." "'Sieur Frowenfel', dat de wrong g-way. You got to take it to 'Polyte Brahmin-Mandarin, an' 'e got to take it to Valentine Grandissime, an' 'e got to take it to Sylvestre. You see, you got to know de manner to make. Once 'pon a time I had a diffycultie wid "
I sought her in the streets, the shops, the theatre. I still blinded myself, and pretended that I only wanted to ask her pardon, so as to remove, before I left Paris, the unpleasant impression I had made at our first meeting. But now, Sylvestre, all these false reasons have disappeared, and the true one is clear. I love her!" "Not a doubt of it, my friend, not a doubt of it.
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