He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. ‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. . She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. Without her, it was lonely.
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