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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"Scaramouche"


"What is it? Eh?" His pale, short-sighted eyes peered at the
visitor. "Andre!" said he, between surprise and sternness; and the
colour deepened in his great pink face.
Benoit, with his back to his master, deliberately winked and grinned
at Andre-Louis to encourage him not to be put off by any apparent
hostility on the part of his godfather. That done, the intelligent
old fellow discreetly effaced himself.
"What do you want here?" growled M. de Kercadiou.
"No more than to kiss your hand, as Benoit has told you, monsieur my
godfather," said Andre-Louis submissively, bowing his sleek black head.
"You have contrived without kissing it for two years."
"Do not, monsieur, reproach me with my misfortune."
The little man stood very stiffly erect, his disproportionately large
head thrown back, his pale prominent eyes very stern.
"Did you think to make your outrageous offence any better by vanishing
in that heartless manner, by leaving us without knowledge of whether
you were alive or dead?"
"At first it was dangerous - dangerous to my life - to disclose my
whereabouts.


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