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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"From the Memoirs of a Minister of France"

Of
those at the door, some cried to their fellows to hearken, while
others hastened off to see. Yet still a little time elapsed,
during which I burned with impatience; and then the crowd came
trampling back, all wrangling and speaking at once.
At the door the chattering ceased, and, a hand being laid on the
bar, in a moment the door was thrown open, and I walked out with
what dignity I might. Outside, the scene which met my eyes might
have been, under other circumstances, diverting. Before me stood
the landlord of the inn, bowing with a light in each hand, as if
the more he bent his backbone the more he must propitiate me;
while a fat, middle-aged man at his elbow, whom I took to be
Fonvelle, smiled feebly at me with a chapfallen expression. A
little aside, Curtin, a shrivelled old fellow, was wringing his
hands over his loss; and behind and round these, peeping over
their shoulders and staring under their arms, clustered a curious
crowd of busybodies, who, between amusement at the joke and awe
of the great men, had much ado to control their merriment.


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