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CHAPTER ONE THE HOUSE BY THE MARSH It was in fat Madame Fontaine's little café at Bar la Rose, that Norman village by the sea, that I announced my decision. It being market-day the café was noisy with peasants, and the crooked street without jammed with carts. Monsieur Torin, the butcher, opposite me, leaned back heavily from his glass of applejack and roared. Monsieur Pompanet, the blacksmith, at my elbow, put down his cup of... more...

“Cocher, drive to the rue Falguière”—this in my best restaurant French. The man with the varnished hat shrugged his shoulders, and raised his eyebrows in doubt. He evidently had never heard of the rue Falguière. “Yes, rue Falguière, the old rue des Fourneaux,” I continued. Cabby’s face broke out into a smile. “Ah, oui, oui, le Quartier Latin.” And it was at the end of this... more...