“You will go and see her,” he begged. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. A Madame Valade and her husband. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter.
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