She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. " "I should think not," observed Jonathan, who had some practice in the knight's moods, and knew how to humour him. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. ‘Wait, Jacques! I will find the way to open this.
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