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Updated: June 20, 2025
There is Bras-Coupé, towering above all heads, in ridiculous red and blue regimentals, but with a look of savage dignity upon him that keeps every one from laughing. The murmur of admiration that passed along the thronged gallery leaped up into a shout in the bosom of Palmyre. Oh, Bras-Coupé heroic soul! She would not falter.
He would give a short assent, feast his eyes, again assent, and feast his ears; but when at length she made bold to approach the actual issue, and finally uttered the loathed word, Work, he rose up, six feet five, a statue of indignation in black marble. And then Palmyre, too, rose up, glorying in him, and went to explain to master and overseer.
There were others, for the Grandissime mansion was always full of Grandissimes; but this was the central group. In this house Palmyre grew to womanhood, retaining without interruption the place into which she seemed to enter by right of indisputable superiority over all competitors, the place of favorite attendant to the sister of Honoré. Attendant, we say, for servant she never seemed.
Frowenfeld broke the seal and ran his eye over the writing, but remained silent. The woman stirred, as if to say "Well?" But he hesitated. "Palmyre," he suddenly said, with a slight, dissuasive smile, "it would be a profanation for me to read this." She bowed to signify that she caught his meaning, then raised her elbows with an expression of dubiety, and said: "'E hask you "
M. Verduret was arranging his plan of battle while waiting for the report of Nina now Palmyre, upon which depended his point of attack. But Joseph Dubois began to grow restless and uneasy. "What must I do now, patron?" he asked. "Return to the hotel; probably your master had noticed your absence; but he will say nothing about it, so continue "
Bras-Coupé was taking her hand in one of his and laying his other upon her head; and as some one made an unnecessary gesture for silence, he sang, beating slow and solemn time with his naked foot and with the hand that dropped hers to smite his breast: "'En haut la montagne, zami, Mo pé coupé canne, zami, Pou' fé l'a'zen' zami, Pou' mo baille Palmyre. Ah!
"Just here at the corner I saw Palmyre leaving her house and walking down the rue Royale. We must wait until morn " Again a footfall on the doorstep, and the door, which was standing ajar, was pushed slightly by the force of the masculine knock which followed. "Allow me," said the voice of Honoré Grandissime, as Aurora bowed at the door. "I should have handed you this; good-day."
"Proffis-or Frowenfel', good-day! Teg a cha'." She laughed. It was the pure joy of existence. "You's well? You lookin' verrie well! Halways bizzie? You fine dad agriz wid you' healt', 'Sieur Frowenfel'? Yes? Ha, ha, ha!" She suddenly leaned toward him across the arm of her chair, with an earnest face. "'Sieur Frowenfel', Palmyre wand see you.
Jacques. "He is caught!" cried M. Verduret with delight. At that moment the door opened, and Mme. Nina Gypsy, alias Palmyre Chocareille, entered. Poor Nina! Each day spent in the service of Madeleine seemed to have aged her a year. Tears had dimmed the brilliancy of her beautiful black eyes; her rosy cheeks were pale and hollow, and her merry smile was quite gone.
On this same day, while it was still early morning, Honoré Grandissime, f.m.c., with more than even his wonted slowness of step and propriety of rich attire, had reappeared in the shop of the rue Royale. He did not need to say he desired another private interview. In his labored way the quadroon stated his knowledge that Frowenfeld had been three times to the dwelling of Palmyre Philosophe.
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