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Updated: August 23, 2024
Brébeuf, the poet, who had neither influence nor money, took to his bed and died of grief. Hesnault, author of the "Avorton," a sonnet much admired in those days, and translated with approval into English verse, as, "Frail spawn of nought and of existence mixed," eased his feelings by insulting Colbert in another sonnet, beginning thus: "Ministre avare et lâche, esclave malheureux."
She darted back, and clapping her hands upon the bosom of her charming frock, danced, literally danced and pirouetted around poor Dickie. "Moi, je ne comprenais pas ce que c'était qu'un avorton," she continued rapidly. "Mais je comprends parfaitement maintenant. C'est un monstre, n'est-ce pas, Maman?" She threw back her head, her white throat convulsed by laughter.
She flew half-way across to the oriel-window, her voice ringing out clear and gay, though broken by bursts of irrepressible merriment. "Regardez, regardez donc, Maman! Ma bonne m'avait dit qu'il était un avorton, et que ce serait très amusant de le voir. Elle m'a conseiller de lui faire marcher."
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