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Updated: May 31, 2025
She ain't nothin' but a baby to our girls about here, that's brought up to see with their eyes and talk with their mouths. You'll have patience with her, if her ways are a good deal different from what you were used to; along back in your mother's time?" But here good Abby paused, for she saw that De Arthenay heard not a word of her well-meant discourse.
"Cheerfulness," he said, buttoning up his fur coat under his chin, "cheerfulness, Mr. De Arthenay, and plenty of good things to eat. That's all she needs." And he went away wondering whether the little creature would pull through the winter or not. And Jacques did not throw the food into the fire any more; he even tried to think about it, and care about it.
"My dear monsieur," he said, "I know nothing of the state of things at Arthenay, and for aught I know people may go out riding for pleasure there; but it would be little short of madness to attempt such a thing here. At present things have got to such a state that for any man to seem richer than another is, in itself, a crime. Here all must be on an equality.
It is so long since Rosin has been here; now let us have a good time, a perfect time!" De Arthenay took up his fiddle once more, and caressed its shining curves. "She's in perfect trim," he said tenderly. "She's fit to play with you to-night, Melody. Come, I am ready; what shall we have?" Melody sat down on the little green bench which was her own particular seat.
Abby begged piteously for a little delay, that she might make clothes, and give her pretty pet a "good send-off;" but De Arthenay would not hear of it. Mary was his wife in the sight of God; let her become so in the sight of man!
All this De Arthenay saw, or fancied he saw, in Abby Rock's glance. He turned away, muttering something about seeing them in the morning; then, with an abrupt bow, which yet was not without grace, he strode swiftly down the street and took his way home. If Abby Rock's kitchen was not heaven, it seemed very near it to Marie that evening.
All laughed heartily at the old man's story; but when the laughter subsided, Melody begged him to take "the Lady," and play for her. "I have not heard you play for so long, Rosin, except just when you called me." "Yes, Mr. De Arthenay," said Miss Vesta. "do play a little for us, while I get supper. Suppose I bring the table out here, Melody; how would you like that?"
The funny part of it is that though I have no house, I came very near being robbed myself." "You, Rosin?" "You, Mr. De Arthenay? Do tell us!" Melody passed her hand rapidly over the old man's face, and then settled back with her former air of content, knowing that all was well. "You shall hear my story," the old man said, drawing himself up, and giving his curl a toss.
Let him have in peace his legs, Monsieur George, then! But no! and every time Monsieur George come down from the great jump, Coquelicot is ready, and bite his legs so hard what he can." Petie laughed outright. "I think that's awful funny!" he said. "I say, Mis' De Arthenay, I'd like to seen him bite his legs. Did he holler?" "Monsieur George? He cry, and go to his bed.
It was clear, however, that he was hoping against hope. He spoke of the army that was collecting on the Loire, whose initial performances, in the neighborhood of Arthenay, had not been of the most promising; it would become seasoned and would march to the relief of Paris.
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