Mysteries of Paris, V3 by Eugène Sue
page 21 of 592 (03%)
page 21 of 592 (03%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
word of honor, alarmed! Then he--"
"Caught you by the throat?" "You are out there. He looked at me, at first, with a bewildered air; then, letting his handkerchief fall, which he had, doubtless, gnawed and torn in grinding his teeth, he cried, throwing himself into my arms, 'Oh! I am very unhappy!'" "Draw it mild!" "Fact! Well, in spite of his death's-head look, when he pronounced these words his voice was so heart-rending--I would say, almost so soft--" "So soft? Get out. There is not a rattle, nor Tom-cat with a cold, whose sounds would not be music alongside his voice." "It is possible; that did not prevent it from being so plaintive at that time that I felt myself quite affected; so much the more as M. Ferrand is not habitually communicative. 'Sir,' said I, 'I believe that.' 'Leave me! leave me!' he answered, interrupting me; 'to tell your sufferings to another is a great solace.' Evidently he took me for some one else." "So familiar? Then you owe us two bottles of Bordeaux: "'When one's master is not proud One must freely treat the crowd.' It is the proverb that speaks; it is sacred. Proverbs are the wisdom of a nation." |
|