I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. He dressed mechanically; so many moves this way, so many moves that. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Peste, but everything had become difficult. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time.
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