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Thompson, Maurice, 1844-1901

"Alice of Old Vincennes"


"Oh, my dear Gaspard!" she cried as she lunged forward. "Gaspard,
Gaspard!" Her voice fairly lifted the roof; her great weight,
hurled with such force, overturned everybody, and all of them
tumbled in a heap, the rotund and solid dame sitting on top.
"Ouf! not so impetuous, my dear, "puffed M. Roussillon, freeing
himself from her unpleasant pressure and scrambling to his feet.
"Really you must have fared well in my absence, Madame, you are
much heavier." He laughed and lifted her up as if she had been a
child, kissing her resonantly.
His gun had fallen with a great clatter. He took it from the floor
and examined it to see if it had been injured, then set it in a
corner.
"I am afraid we have been making too much noise," said Alice,
speaking very low. "There is a patrol guard every night now. If
they should hear you--"
"Shh!" whispered M. Roussillon, "we will be very still. Alice, is
there something to eat and a drop of wine handy? I have come many
miles; I am tired, hungry, thirsty,--ziff!"
Alice brought some cold roast venison, a loaf, and a bottle of
claret. These she set before him on a little table.
"Ah, this is comfort," he said after he had gulped a full cup.
"Have you all been well?"
Then he began to tell where he had been, what he had seen, and the
many things he had done. A Frenchman must babble while he eats and
drinks.


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