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Updated: June 7, 2025
Baleinier, No. 12, Rue Taranne. I ran thither, but he had gone out; they told me that I should find him about five o'clock at his asylum, which is next door to the convent. That is how we have met." "But the medal the medal?" said Dagobert, impatiently; "where did you see it?" "It is with regard to this and other things that I wished to make important communications to Mdlle. de Cardoville."
Its members had ransacked the toy-shops of the fair, and every man was carrying some plaything and making the most of it, and extolling its greater virtues than the playthings of his fellows. Taranne carried a pea-shooter, and peppered his companion's legs persistently, grinning with delight if any of his victims showed irritation. Oriol had got a large trumpet, and was blowing it lustily.
Peyrolles went on: "Then, as you value his friendship, secure the person of that girl whom Monsieur de Chavernay spoke to just now." "Why?" Navailles questioned. Peyrolles answered him, sharply: "Don't ask; act. To please our master it should be done at once." "How is it to be done?" asked Taranne. Peyrolles looked about him. "Is there no other woman here who wears a rose-colored domino?"
Now the hunchback walked slowly in a circle round the chair on which Gabrielle was seated, making as he did so fantastic gestures with his hands over her head gestures which suggested to the amazed spectators some wizard busy with his horrid incantations. Taranne nudged Oriol. "She listens." "She seems pleased," Oriol answered. Chavernay muttered, angrily: "This must be witch-craft."
Taranne signed, Nocé signed, Oriol signed, Gironne signed, Choisy signed, Albret signed, Montaubert signed. When the pen was offered to Chavernay, Chavernay put his hands behind his back and shook his head. It came to Navailles to sign last. "Now for the happy pair," Navailles said.
The paper contained a few words written in a bold, soldierly hand. They ran thus: "Meet me to-night at two o'clock at the palace of the Prince de Gonzague. Gonzague returned the paper to Chavernay with an ironical smile. "Somebody has been hoaxing you," he said. "You will not meet Lagardere here." Taranne consulted his watch.
They talked freely enough of Elise Delaunay, David alternately wincing and craving for more. What a clever little devil it was! She was burning herself away with ambition and work; Taranne flattered her a good deal; it was absolutely necessary, otherwise she would be for killing herself two or three times a week. Oh! she might get her mention at the Salon.
Nocé was there, and Oriol and Taranne and Navailles and the others, and the dainty, daring, impudent Cidalise and her sisters of the opera, and Oriol's flame, who made game of him all very pretty, all very greedy, as greedy of food and wine as they were greedy of gold and kisses, and all very merry. One face was wanting from the habitual familiars of Gonzague.
He was now with Taranne, on trial, the authorities keeping a vigilant eye on him. Meanwhile Elise, still leaning back with her eyes on her picture, was talking fast to David, who hung over her, absorbed.
Camille had given him a young girl, for whose keep she paid, who lived with Tour d'Auvergne in furnished apartments in the Rue de Taranne, and whom he said he loved as one loves a portrait, because she came from Camille. The count often took her with him to Camille's to supper. She was fifteen, simple in her manners, and quite devoid of ambition.
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