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There's a young Englishman the favourite now the same who swam ashore with her at the blowing-up of the Belle steamer. So I have heard, at least. Is it so, Le Ber?" "You had better inquire of Mademoiselle Besancon," replied the latter, in a peevish tone, at which the others laughed, "I would," replied the questioner, "but I know not where to find her. Where is she? She's not at her plantation.
The inscription must surely be Something-or-other Athletic Club. But what was "Er... om.. oy..."? That question staggered me. Gazing harder at it than ever, I could come to no conclusion. It was the name of a place, no doubt: but what place, I knew not. "Er"? No, "Ber": just a suspicion of a B came round the corner of a fold. If B was the first letter, I might possibly identify it.
Boniface Amerbach is his heir. Hieronymus Froben and Nicholas Episcopius, the managers of the business, are his executors. To each of the good friends left to him he bequeathed one of the trinkets which spoke of his fame with princes and the great ones of the earth, in the first place to Louis Ber and Beatus Rhenanus.
Now she came forward and stood in the doorway, her slim figure erect, her waving hair falling over her beautiful shoulders, her eyes with the darkness of night in them, but the color gone out of her cheeks with the great effort she was making to keep calm. "Madame De Ber," she began, "I could not help hearing what you said.
The umpire made his sweeping wave of hand and the breathless crowd caught his decision. "Out!" In action and sound the circle of bleachers resembled a long curved beach with a mounting breaker thundering turbulently high. "Rob b ber r!" bawled the outraged fans, betraying their marvelous inconsistency. Old Well-Well breathed hard. Again the wrestling of his body signified an inward strife.
Being open to the entire university, the universal expectation was that it would be awarded to a senior, as had hitherto been the case, and speculations were rife as to what mem- ber of the graduating class would take it.
Madame De Ber and her coterie, for already there were little cliques in Detroit, shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows when Jeanne Angelot was mentioned. She was such a coquette! And though she flouted Louis Marsac to his face, when he had really taken her at her word and gone, she might have repented and run after him.
The other wagged his head: "You won't last long if you keep this up. The hic! trouble with you is that you can't get decently drunk. You just turn blue and white. That's what's matter you! And it kills the kind of hic! of man you are. B-b'lieve me," he added shedding tears, "I'm fon' 'v' you, Ber hic! kley."
Jeanne was on the other side of the street with Pani, but the distance was so small that she glanced across with questioning eyes. Marie held her head up proudly. "I do believe," began Jeanne when they had turned out of St Anne's street, "that Marie De Ber is going to be betrothed to that rough boat builder who walks beside her father."
"Thou hast a fine son," one and another would say to M. De Ber; and the father was mightily gratified. There were many pleasures for the young people. It was not all work in their lives. Jeanne joined the parties; she liked the canoeing on the river, the picnics to the small islands about, and the dances often given moonlight evenings on the farms.
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