” “You are wonderful!” she murmured. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. Gosse had to release his clamp on her mouth, for the awkwardness of the position made it impossible to negotiate the little stair. In Paris, in July, a raging mob had stormed the Bastille, provoking circumspect aristocrats to uproot themselves and take refuge abroad. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. "I shall value it highly, and will promise never to part with it.
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