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Jacques Bonneval by Anne Manning
page 96 of 111 (86%)
at Nismes, and were in no mood for jesting. When he began to vend his
nostrums, an old man of severe aspect held up his hand, and said:

"Peace, unfeeling man--you bring your senseless ribaldry to the wrong
market. Here are only lamentations, and mourning, and woe."

"My good sir, one must live," said La Croisette.

"And how? tell me that!" retorted the old man, indignantly. "They that
fed delicately are desolate in the streets; they that were clad in
scarlet are cast on dunghills; the tongue of the suckling child cleaves
to the roof of its mouth for thirst; the young children ask for bread,
and no man giveth unto them."

Then, with a wail that was almost like a howl, he tore his hair and
cried, "For this, for this mine eyes run down with water and mine
eyelids take no rest. Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by?"

"Jean, I cannot stand this," said La Croissette, as the old man hurried
away. "All the people seem with broken hearts--it takes all spirit out
of me. I cannot even hawk needles and pins among the starving--who would
buy?"

I could only say, "How dreadful is this place! The Lord seems to have
forsaken his sanctuary."

"Let us seek another place as soon as we can--"

"You forget: I am to be met here by an agent of my father's at La Boule
d'Or."
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