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"I want you to give me a brush down," said Jeanty Sarre.
His friend took a brush and brushed him, and Jeanty Sarre went away.
While going down the stairs, Jeanty Sarre cried out to his friend,
"
Thanks!"
Such is the kind of hospitality which we have since received in Belgium,
in Switzerland, and even in England.
The next day, when they took up the bodies they found on Charpentier a
note-book and a pencil, and upon Denis Dussoubs a letter. A letter to a
woman. Even these stoic souls love.
On the 1st of December, Denis Dussoubs began this letter. He did not
finish it. Here it is:--
"
"
MY DEAR MARIE,
Have you experienced that sweet pain of feeling regret for him who
regrets you? For myself since I left you I have known no other
affliction than that of thinking of you. Even in my affliction itself
there was something sweet and tender, and although I was troubled, I
was nevertheless happy to feel in the depths of my heart how greatly
I loved you by the regret which you cost me. Why are we separated?
Why have I been forced to fly from you? For we were so happy! When I
think of our little evenings so free from constraint, of our gay
country chats with your sisters, I feel myself seized with a bitter
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