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I admitted that a dog of that kind would be uninteresting. "There isn't such a dog as that," Sylvie thoughtfully remarked. "But there would be," cried Bruno, "if the Professor shortened it up for us!" "Shortened it up?" I said. "That's something new. How does he do it?" "He's got a curious machine "Sylvie was beginning to explain.
"But I am becoming quite tragic in my remarks," went on Sylvie, resuming her usual gaiety, "Melodramatic, as they say! If I go on in this manner I shall qualify to be the next 'leading lady' to Miraudin! Quelle honneur!
"What is the matter, Sylvie? What are you doing? Who is with you down there?" she said, over the baluster, from the hall above. "O, mother!" cried Sylvie, "they aren't gone! Something has come! Go up and tell her, Amy, please!"
But you'll come, won't you, and make it all right? Put on something loose and cool; that lovely black lace jacket with the violet lining, and your gray silk skirt. It won't take you a minute. Your hair's perfectly sweet now." And Sylvie hurried away. Mrs.
Yet now, as God lives, even if I am down in the dust, I'll lay hold of my stars. I'm going to walk out of your lives so that they can shape themselves to their own good ends. Sylvie can shape yours with you, Pete." He hesitated a moment. "If a coward, a murderer, can say 'God bless you, take that blessing!"
"I cannot argue with you on the matter," said Angela, rather vexedly, "Your ideas of life never will be mine, women look at these things differently . . ." "Poor dear women! Yes! they do," said the Marquis, "And that is such a pity, they spoil all the pleasure of their lives. Now, just think for a moment what your friend Sylvie is losing!
"I thought you were a baron," said Sylvie to the colonel, while the cards were being dealt, and after a long pause in which they had all been rather thoughtful. "Yes; but when I was made baron, in 1814, after the battle of Nangis, where my regiment performed miracles, I had money and influence enough to secure the rank.
'I brought it on me mysel'; I thought I would ha' t' truth, whativer came on it, and now I'm not strong enough to stand it, God help me! she continued, piteously. 'Oh, Sylvie, let me help yo'! I cannot do what God can, I'm not meaning that, but I can do next to Him of any man.
"She seemed well enough in your arms," Sylvie said to him in a low voice, with a savage smile. "The colonel is right," said Madame de Chargeboeuf. "You ought to send for a doctor. This morning at church every one was speaking, as they came out, of Mademoiselle Lorrain's appearance." "I am dying," said Pierrette. Desfondrilles called to Sylvie and told her to unfasten her cousin's gown.
The Beetle murmured something that sounded like "I did look," and Sylvie went on again. "But I know you didn't! You never do! You always walk with your chin up you're so dreadfully conceited. Well, let's see how many legs are broken this time. Why, none of them, I declare! And what's the good of having six legs, my dear, if you can only kick them all about in the air when you tumble?
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