Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The maniac now raised her eyes, and, seeing Pierre, she politely said: "Excuse the plain service, sir; it is very little, but comes from our hearts." Pierre Labarre uttered a cry of astonishment. "Louise Louise Fougeres!" he cried, beside himself. The invalid looked sharply at Pierre, and tremblingly said: "Who called me? Who pronounced my name just now?" "I, Louise," replied Pierre.
"Immediately," replied the landlord. While the newcomer was warming himself before the fire, with his back turned, the worthy host, Jacquin Labarre, drew a pencil from his pocket, then tore off the corner of an old newspaper which was lying on a small table near the window.
I have made the most careful search without the smallest success, though I had no difficulty in finding this house." "Ah! it was you, then, who discovered my retreat?" And Labarre shook his head. "That is enough!" interposed the Marquis. "Labarre, all this is useless. Give me your attention. I am about to speak of the honor of the Fongereues family."
The marquis angrily said: "Pierre Labarre, it surprises me that in the nine years which have passed since the death of my father, the Marquis of Fougereuse, you should have forgotten what a servant's duties are! Since seven years I bear the title of my father; why do you persist in calling me Monsieur le Vicomte?"
Young Simon, the son of the peasant, could not join in this parricidal act, although the Marquis sent Pierre Labarre, who was even then in his service, to his son, then fifteen years of age, to sound his views. If the youth would enter the army of Condé, the Marquis assured him a brilliant future.
This fishmonger had been a member half an hour previously of the group which surrounded Jacquin Labarre, and had himself related his disagreeable encounter of the morning to the people at the Cross of Colbas. From where he sat he made an imperceptible sign to the tavern-keeper. The tavern-keeper went to him. They exchanged a few words in a low tone.
"Do you see on that side hill a tiny house, which seems to hold its equilibrium almost by a miracle? It is there that we shall find Pierre Labarre." "But he may not be at home?" "He never goes out, this hermit." And Cyprien laughed. The house that Cyprien pointed out was much more like a hut it consisted of one story. Before the door were two or three worn stone steps.
Alas! poor girl, she did not know that the night when she and Françoise entered the inn at Leigoutte, Fanfar, alone in his prison, thought of his mother whom he had scarcely seen, and of the sister whom he had held in his arms. Ah! it was a bitter trial for the strong, faithful heart. Caillette and Pierre Labarre watched Françoise, when finally she arose from her chair, and went toward the door.
"It is needless to awaken these memories." Then lowering his voice he added, with an affectation of pity: "It was a terrible affair, Pierre, and I understand that an old and faithful servant must have felt it deeply the father, mother, and two children to die at the same time!" "You are mistaken," answered Labarre.
Hence, as I have said, all the philanthropic side of the revolutionary movement was lost to him; just as the defence of Labarre, the vindication of Calas, never disturbed the current of his contempt for Voltaire.
Word Of The Day