She breathed deeply. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Then came the great day. “Does it hurt?” Michelle asked. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated. Her mother…. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe.
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