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Book, page 21 / 67 "There's Lampron." "The painter?" "Yes, but he doesn't know Monsieur Charnot. It would only be one stranger pleading for another. My chances would be small. What I want--" "Is a friend of both parties, isn't it? Well, what am I?" "The very man!" "Very well. I undertake to ask for her hand! I shall ask for the hand of the charming Jeanne for both of us; for you, who will make her happy; and for myself, who will not entirely lose her if she marries one of my pupils, one of my favorite graduates--my friend, Fabien Mouillard. And I won't be refused--no, damme, I won't!" He brought down his fist upon the table with a tremendous blow which made the glasses ring and the decanters stagger. "Coming!" cried a waiter from below, thinking he was summoned. "All right, my good fellow!" shouted M. Flamaran, leaning over the railings. "Don't trouble. I don't want anything." He turned again toward me, still filled with emotion, but somewhat calmer than he had been. "Now," said he, "let us talk, and do you tell me all." And we began a long and altogether delightful talk. A more genuine, a finer fellow never breathed than this professor let loose from school and giving his heart a holiday--a simple, tender heart, preserved beneath the science of the law like a grape in sawdust. Now he would smile as I sang Jeanne's praises; now he would sit and listen to my objections with a truculent air, tightening his lips till they broke forth in vehement denial. "What! You dare to say! Young man, what are you afraid of?" His overflowing kindness discharged itself in the
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