I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. Think how free that leaves me to follow things up! I must take you everywhere.
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