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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

The knees and the breathing,
there's where it takes me. But I'm very sure, sir, I address a
gentleman as would be the last to make trouble between friends.'
'I am sure you do me no more than justice,' said I; 'and I shall
think it quite unnecessary to dwell on any of these passing
circumstances in my report to the Vicomte.'
'Which you do favour him (if you'll excuse me being so bold as to
mention it) exac'ly!' said he. 'I should have known you anywheres.
May I offer you a pot of 'ome-brewed ale, sir? By your leave!
This way, if you please. I am 'eartily grateful--'eartily pleased
to be of any service to a gentleman like you, sir, which is related
to the Vis-count, and really a fambly of which you might well be
proud! Take care of the step, sir. You have good news of 'is
'ealth, I trust? as well as that of Monseer the Count?'
God forgive me! the horrible fellow was still puffing and panting
with the fury of his assault, and already he had fallen into an
obsequious, wheedling familiarity like that of an old servant,--
already he was flattering me on my family connections!
I followed him through the house into the stable-yard, where I
observed the driver washing the cart in a shed. He must have heard
the explosion of the pistol. He could not choose but hear it: the
thing was shaped like a little blunderbuss, charged to the mouth,
and made a report like a piece of field artillery.


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