Now listen to me, a moment."
And he proceeded to unfold a scheme that filled Binet with a paralyzing terror.
"After Redon, Nantes," he said. "Nantes and the Theatre Feydau."
M. Binet choked in the act of drinking. The Theatre Feydau was a sort of provincial Comedie Francaise. The great Fleury had played there to an audience as critical as any in France. The very thought of Redon, cherished as it had come to be by M. Binet, gave him at moments a cramp in the stomach, so dangerously ambitious did it seem to him. And Redon was a puppet-show by comparison with Nantes. Yet this raw lad whom he had picked up by chance three weeks ago, and who in that time had blossomed from a country attorney into author and actor, could talk of Nantes and the Theatre Feydau without changing colour.
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He tempered the blow
He had entrusted the
Then she looked down
Yet I could wish
He wore boots buckskins
In her left hand
Three heavy Flemish horses
You speak of me
She considered a moment
Andre Louis bowed his
de La Tour d
Forgive me if you
What if I am
Thus at least we
Andre Louis sprang up
Entering the green room
I should advise you
And as if that
On Wednesday they gave
Where are the fences
But I ll be
The gentleman is being
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