The Grey Cloak (Chapter 3, page 1 of 10)


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Chapter 3

"Monsieur Paul?" cried the handsome widow of Monsieur Boisjoli,
stepping from behind the pastry counter.

"Yes, Mignon, it is I," said the Chevalier; "that is, what remains of
me."

"What happiness to see you again!" she exclaimed. She turned to a
waiter. "Charlot, bring Monsieur le Chevalier the pheasant pie, the
ragout of hare, and a bottle of chambertin from the bin of '36."

"Sorceress!" laughed the Chevalier; "you have sounded the very soul of
me. Thanks, Mignon, thanks! Next to love, what is more to a man than
a full stomach? Ah, you should have seen me when I came in! And devil
take this nose of mine; not even steam and water have thawed the frost
from it." He chucked her under the chin and smiled comically, all of
which made manifest that the relations existing between the hostess of
the Candlestick and her principal tenant were of the most cordial and
Platonic character.

"And you have just returned from Rome? Ah, what a terrible ride!"

"Abominable, Mignon."

"And I see you hungry!" She sighed, and her black eyes grew moist and
tender. Madame Boisjoli was only thirty-two. She was young.

"But alive, Mignon, alive; don't forget that."

"You have had adventures?" eagerly; for she was a woman who loved the
recital of exploits. Monsieur Boisjoli had fallen as a soldier at
Charenton.

"Adventures? Oh, as they go," slapping his rapier and his pockets
which had recently been very empty.

"You have been wounded?"

"Only in the pockets, dear, and in the tender quick of comfort. And
will you have Charlot hasten that pie? I can smell it from afar, and
my mouth waters."

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