Chapter

 1       IV|        that he was avenged.~ ~He drew from his pocket a roll of
 2        V|        after kissing Marie-Anne, drew the girl toward her.~ ~“
 3     XIII|   Marie-Anne has written.”~ ~She drew from her belt where she
 4      XVI|       Marie-Anne’s eyes, but she drew away her hand.~ ~“Ah! it
 5     XVII|         and shrubs.~ ~This sight drew a cry of rage from Mlle.
 6    XXIII|   defence; he called Maurice and drew him a little aside.~ ~“You,
 7    XXIII|        open the door.”~ ~Martial drew the bolt; M. de Sairmeuse
 8      XXV|          He could not finish; he drew her to him, and their lips
 9      XXV|          checked him.~ ~The abbe drew his attention to the man
10      XXV|        noble enthusiasm of youth drew a sad smile from the priest.~ ~“
11    XXVII| Courtornieu cleaned his glasses, drew from his pocket a paper
12   XXVIII|       took Marie-Anne’s hand and drew her to the tiny grafted
13   XXVIII|         Involuntarily Marie-Anne drew away her hand and stepped
14   XXVIII|          open with his teeth, he drew from it two letters, wrapped
15   XXVIII|       him my sword, your brother drew his, and they took their
16      XXX|          you doing?”~ ~The baron drew back in despair.~ ~“All
17      XXX|      business.”~ ~As he spoke he drew from beneath his long overcoat
18     XXXI|         no wish to escape.”~ ~He drew the sobbing woman to him
19     XXXI|         of the Piedmontese.~ ~He drew his knife from his pocket,
20    XXXIV|         he asked, coldly.~ ~Jean drew from his pocket a folded
21     XXXV|        the rudeness of the shock drew from him a groan resembling
22     XXXV|       with poignant anxiety they drew the abbe a little aside.~ ~“
23     XXXV|        spite of extreme caution, drew many terrible groans from
24    XXXVI|       visiting the sick-room, he drew Maurice aside.~ ~“Is this
25    XXXVI|          made one sacrifice that drew tears from his eyes; he
26   XXXVII|      abbe could not hesitate. He drew the letter from his pocket
27  XXXVIII|      manifest injustice, Martial drew from his pocket the paper
28      XLV| unbeknown to me.”~ ~Mme. Blanche drew her purse from her pocket,
29      XLV|         the wardrobe closed, she drew a small table up before
30     XLVI|          tore open her dress and drew from her bosom a folded
31    XLVII|       was Jean Lacheneur, and he drew the priest into the embrasure
32        L|     fears were groundless.~ ~She drew a long breath, as if a mighty
33       LI|  modestly in the background, but drew forward her chair and took
34     LIII|        of his suppositions.~ ~He drew from his pocket a handful
35      LIV|        away.~ ~This circumstance drew from Martial an oath worthy
36       LV|        can I prove this?”~ ~Otto drew a little nearer his master,