The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. You want me to be clean. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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