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Updated: May 23, 2025
They sat down on the terrasse of a large café near the Place des Ternes, a few hundred yards away from the Avenue Hoche. The café was nearly empty, citizens being either in the Bois or on the main boulevards. Mr. Ingram sadly ordered bocks. The waiter, flapping his long apron, called out in a loud voice as he went within: "Deux blonds, deux." George supplied cigarettes. "Mr. Cannon," began Mr.
I was fancying myself in the examining magistrate's private room, face to face with that rogue. It is my confounded brain that is always running away with me." All broke into uproarious laughter, which escaped into the outer air through the open windows, and went to mingle with the thousand noises of moving vehicles and people in their Sunday clothes going up the Avenue des Ternes.
It seemed to her, in her generous selfishness, that it was for her the wind blew in the trees, or the fine, gray rain wet the horizon of the avenues; for her, so that she might say, as she entered the little house of the Ternes, "It is windy; it is raining; the weather is pleasant;" mingling thus the ocean of things in the intimacy of her love.
But he felt tired and told him that he would not go out. So he remained here all day." "Alone?" "Yes. The two servants were out. I went to the Cinema des Ternes with my mother and our friend Dutreuil. In the evening, we learnt that M. Guillaume had been murdered. Next morning, Jacques was arrested." "On what evidence?"
At two o'clock she returned to the little house of the Ternes. She found Jacques in his room. He was smoking a wooden pipe. A cup of coffee almost empty was on the table. He looked at her with a harshness that chilled her. She dared not talk, feeling that everything that she could say would offend and irritate him, and yet she knew that in remaining discreet and dumb she intensified his anger.
"We must hereafter be strangers to each other, and this is why we leave this house." "My God! At my age, to drag my bones " "I have engaged a lodging at the Ternes; a wagon will come to take the furniture that belongs to us, what we brought here, only that. We will tell the concierge that we are going to the country.
Others insinuated that you were not a Prince, that you were not a Pole, but the son of a Russian coachman and a little dressmaker of Les Ternes; that you had lived at the expense of Mademoiselle Anna Monplaisir, the star of the Varietes Theatre, and that you were bent on marrying to pay your debts with my daughter's money." Panine, pale as death, rose up and said, in a stifled voice: "Madame!"
Don Luis sprang from his seat, radiant with delight. "What do you mean? Out with it! You know who it is?" "The chap's an indoor servant employed at a nursing-home in the Avenue des Ternes." "Let's go there. We've no time to lose." "Splendid, Chief! You're yourself again." "Well, of course!
You know my husband is mistaken when he thinks Le Menil pleases me. And then I must go to Paris next week for two or three days." Twenty-four hours after writing her letter, Therese went from Dinard to the little house in the Ternes. She had made the trip with her husband, who wanted to see his electors whom the Socialists were working over.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon when Don Luis and Mazeroux arrived at the nursing-home in the Avenue des Ternes. A manservant opened the door. Mazeroux nudged Don Luis. The man was doubtless the bearer of the letter. And, in reply to the sergeant's questions, he made no difficulty about saying that he had been to the police office that morning. "By whose orders?" asked Mazeroux.
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