His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. " "Not utterly," rejoined the other. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. All our fraternity are afraid of him; but I laugh at his threats.
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