I drink with you, I play with you--'bien!' As you say
yourself, 'bien,' isn't that enough?"
"'Pardon!' We will not quarrel. No; we spend not the Christmas Day
after the same fashion, quite. Then, to-morrow at Pardon's Drive!
Adieu!"
Pretty Pierre went out of one door, a malediction between his white
teeth, and Aleck went out of another door with a malediction upon his
gloomy lips. But both maledictions were levelled at the same person.
Poor Aleck.
"Poor Aleck!" That is the way we sometimes think of a good nature gone
awry; one that has learned to say cruel maledictions to itself, and
against which demons hurl their deadly maledictions too. Alas, for the
ne'er-do-weel!
That night a stalwart figure passed from David Humphrey's door, carrying
with him the warm atmosphere of a good woman's love. The chilly outer
air of the world seemed not to touch him, Love's curtains were drawn so
close. Had one stood within "the Hunter's Room," as it was called, a
little while before, one would have seen a man's head bowed before a
woman, and her hand smoothing back the hair from the handsome brow where
dissipation had drawn some deep lines.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47