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walk and crushed them to pieces beneath his heel. For two minutes Madame Montmirail had been hot and cold by turns, giddy, choking—the Abbé, the room, the gardens, swimming before her eyes—now she drew a long breath of relief and turned to her cousin.
"By my faith, Monsieur l'Abbé," said she, "that soldier down there is a true gentleman!"
And Malletort took his leave, reflecting that in research after general information, his last hour's work had been by no means thrown away.
