The Son of Clemenceau by Alexandre Dumas fils
page 11 of 244 (04%)
page 11 of 244 (04%)
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bordering the fashionable one.
He almost regretted this conclusion, for the girl's forehead was so high, her eyes so lofty and her delicate mouth so impressed with a proud and energetical curl that no ambition would seem beyond the flight of one thus beautiful and high-spirited. Whatever the revolution she had exercised over him, he dared not avow it, such respect did she inspire, and on her recovering from her fleeting emotion, he let her resume her way without a word to detain her. She had not reached the first plank of the bridge before he suddenly remembered the officer, like himself, in ambush; and in the same manner as love--if that were love--had clutched his heart with the swiftness of an eagle seizing its quarry, another sentiment, as fierce and overpowering, jealousy, stung him to the quick. As he glanced--but he had not taken his eyes off her, not even to look if the military officer were still at his post--she had swept her worsted wrapper round to set her foot on the first board of the bridge; and he caught a glimpse, delightful and bewildering, of a foot, long but slim and delicately modeled, and of a faultless ankle, in a vermilion silk stocking and low-cut cordovan leather slipper--as theatrical as the rest of her attire. Something innately aesthetical in the student, which made him adore the exquisitely wrought, impelled him now to be the slave--the devotee--the worshiper of this masterpiece of Nature. Perhaps she stood in need of a defender? |
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