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Updated: June 13, 2025
I speak as a man who for some reason which he doesn't remem- ber now, did not pay a visit to the celebrated Puits de Moise, an ancient cistern, embellished with a sculp- tured figure of the Hebrew lawgiver.
The De Ber children, with Jeanne and Pani, took their dinner here and there out of doors with much merriment. It was here Marsac joined them again, his hands full of fruit, which he gave to the children. "Come over to the Strait," he exclaimed. "That is a sight worth seeing. Everything is out." "O yes," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "And, Louis, can you not get a boat or a canoe?
I am glad I have learned so many things. By another spring he will be here!" Then Jeanne forgot the somber garment of womanhood that shadowed her last night, and danced in the very gladness of her heart. Wenonah smiled and then sighed. What if this man of so many years should want to marry the child? Such things had been. And there was that fine young De Ber just come home.
And there is, no doubt, some Indian blood in thy veins! Thou hast always been wild as a deer and longing to live out of doors." Jeanne only laughed. She was so glad to feel at liberty once more. For a month she had virtually been a prisoner. Madame De Ber, though secretly glad, joined the general disapproval. She had half hoped he might fancy Rose, who sympathized warmly with him.
"Is er King Browning present?" yelled a freshman, leaning out of a window. "If so, I'd like to inquire if he means to attend the party this evening." "If he does," said another freshman, "he will be able to obtain a dress suit down at Cohen's, price 'von tollar ber efenin' to shentlemen." "Oh, you wait till we get at you fresh ducks!" shouted back an angry sophomore.
"Without hesitation I do, the old wizen-face Gayarre." "Gayarre the avocat?" "Monsieur Dominique Gayarre!" "Improbable," rejoined one. "Monsieur Gayarre is a man of steady habits a moralist a miser." "Ha! ha!" laughed Le Ber; "it's plain, Messieurs, you don't understand the character of Monsieur Gayarre. Perhaps I know him better.
Marie clung to her. People jostled them, but they made their way through the narrow, crowded street. The bells were ringing, more from long habit now. Soldiers in uniform were everywhere, some as guards, caring for the noisier ones. Madame De Ber was leaning over her half door, and gave a cry of joy. "Where hast thou been all day, and where is Pierre, my son?" she demanded.
Sir Joshua, somehow, was an eminently Protestant painter; no one can forget that, who in the National Gallery in London has looked at the picture in which he represents several young ladies as nymphs, voluminously draped, hanging gar- lands over a statue, a picture suffused indefinably with the Anglican spirit, and exasperating to a mem- ber of one of the Latin races.
"An army like that of the enemy," wrote the marshal to Louvois, on the 13th of Septem ber, "and at the season it is now, cannot have any idea but that of driving the king's army from Alsace, having neither provisions nor means of getting into Lorraine, unless I be driven from the country."
"And what there is left thou shalt have, Catherine," she said to her daughter-in-law. "None of my money shall go to Montreal. It would be only such a little while for Berthê to wait. I cannot last long." So she had said for three years and Berthê had grown tired of waiting. Her imagination fed on the life of devotion and exaltation that her aunt wrote about. At noon Marie De Ber was married.
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