It is well known that M'sieu' Doltaire, even
the King's son--his mother worked in the fields like your Nanette,
Bamboir--"
"Or your Lablanche, my friend. She has hard hands, with warts,
and red knuckles therefrom--"
"Or your Nanette, Bamboir, with nose that blisters in the summer,
as she goes swingeing flax, and swelling feet that sweat in sabots,
and chin thrust out from carrying pails upon her head--"
"Ay, like Nanette and like Lablanche, this peasant mother of M'sieu'
Doltaire, and maybe no such firm breasts like Nanette--"
"Nor such an eye as has Lablanche. Well, M'sieu' Doltaire, who
could override them all, he could not kill this barbarian. And
Gabord--you know well how they fought, and the black horse and
his rider came and carried him away. Why, the young M'sieu'
Duvarney had him on his knees, the blade at his throat,
and a sword flashed out from the dark--they say it was the
devil's--and took him in the ribs and well-nigh killed him."
"But what say you to Ma'm'selle Duvarney coming to him that day,
and again yesterday with Gabord?"
"Well, well, who knows, Bamboir? This morning I said to Nanette,
'Why is't, all in one moment, you send me to the devil, and pray to
meet me in Abraham's bosom too?' What think you she answered me?
Why, this, my Bamboir: 'Why is't Adam loved his wife and swore
her down before the Lord also, all in one moment?' Why Ma'm'selle
Duvarney does this or that is not for muddy brains like ours.
Pages:
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418