‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. “You silly creatures! Ugh! Fie upon you!” The court was crowded with people, for the most part supporters and admirers of the defendants, and the man with the light eyelashes was conspicuously active and omnipresent. Brown, Lucy, and Martin Chen were at the center of the joyous horde. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. He reeled, and crashed to the floor.
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