come after me."

"Are you sure of it, old chap?"

"Yes," says the ox-man, in a hollow voice. "First, I want her. Then,
twice, old man, I've found her exactly in my path, in mine, d'you
understand? You may tell me that she ran away; that's because she's
timid, that, yes--"

He stopped dead in the middle of the street and looked straight at
me. The heavy face, greasily moist on the cheeks and nose, was
serious. His rotund fist went up to the dark yellow mustache, so
carefully pointed, and smoothed it tenderly. Then he continued to
lay bare his heart to me "I want her; but, you know, I shall marry
her all right, I shall. She's called Eudoxie Dumail. At first, I
wasn't thinking of marrying her. But since I've got to know her
family name, it seems to me that it's different, and I should get on
all right. Ah, nom de Dieu! She's so pretty, that woman! And it's
not only that she's pretty--ah!"

The huge child was overflowing with sentiment and emotion, and
trying to make them speak to me. "Ah, my boy, there are times when
I've just got to hold myself back with a hook," came the strained
and gloomy tones, while the blood flushed to the fleshy parts of his
cheeks and neck. "She's so beautiful, she's--and me I'm--she's so
unlike--you'll have noticed it, surely, you that notices--she's a
country girl, oui; eh bien, she's got a God knows what that's better
than a Parisienne, even a toffed-up and stylish Parisienne, pas?
She--as for me, I--"