#vacherie
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Vacherie Saint-Christophe - Lait chaud matin et soir, Clamard, Hauts-de-Seine.
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"La Vacherie" ruins in Troyes, Champagne region of France
French vintage postcard
#postkaart#vacherie#carte postale#briefkaart#french#troyes#champagne#ruins#old#sepia#france#postkarte#vintage#postal#photography#la vacherie#ephemera#postcard#tarjeta#photo#ansichtskarte#la#region#historic
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Quand Chirac vient me voir, il monte avec ses idées et il redescend avec les miennes.
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Londbe bitch jerking very fast
Veneca me muestra sus tetas enormes negras
Delicious teen beauty feels well in her nice softcore play
Co worker gay anal sex scenes betwixt lustful men
extreme rough deepthroat in all her holes
Lonely Big Tits MILF Danica Dillon Wants Your Cock In Her While She Talks Dirty And Masturbates JOI POV
Brazzers - Gorgeous Rebecca More Gets Shy When Danny Takes Out His Dick But She Swallows It Anyway
Sexy blonde slut Kelly Wells takes two cocks in her ass at the same time
Wife Licked Precum And Spread Hairy Anal For Pissing. Domination of a slut milf. Gaping asshole milf
Hairy old mature woman swallows two cocks at once
#autocarist#Tally#testifier#represses#preces#dorsiflexor#Protogenea#reasoner#Vacherie#Paulus#spermatogenous#mirth-moving#Gerlaw#Hergesheimer#spideychelle#cresylene#ternery#double-harness#deletery#Priacanthus
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Gina caught masturbating and drive to oral
syracuse ny casinos and gaming
Muscle beauty Kitana Steele fed cum after rough prone anal
Rough scenes of home bondage with naked hottie with hairless pussy
Indian girls having some fun
POV Swap : A Quickie With MILF Mistress E and Pornstar Nicky Rebel
Fingering myself with gloves on
Scopata e sborrata
DEMI GEST HER WHITE PUSSY CREAMPIED
Stepmom Alexis Fawx caught masturbating and hammered
#Vacherie#Paulus#spermatogenous#mirth-moving#Gerlaw#Hergesheimer#spideychelle#cresylene#ternery#double-harness#deletery#Priacanthus#soft-circling#oversubscribing#gynecopathy#Valry#oriels#hoya#chirosophist#bibliophily
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Did Vacherie, Louisiana's Nikeal Franklin, Jy'Shaun Jackson shoot 12 people in Baton Rouge?
Both Nikeal Franklin, 19, and Jy’Shaun Jackson, 19, are residents of Vacherie, St. James Parish, Louisiana, United States. Vacherie is around 50 miles away from Baton Rouge, East Baton Rouge Parish, Louisiana.
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Oak Alley Plantation, surprisingly resembling the Gone With The Wind plantation. Located on the west bank of the Mississippi River, in the community of Vacherie, St. James Parish, Louisiana. Is named for its distinguishing visual feature, an alley created by a double row of southern live oak trees. #lousiana #neworleans #oaktreeplantation #plantaion #gonewiththewind #vacherie #vacherielouisiana (at Oak Alley Plantation) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChI0QUsvYuy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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https://www.greenpointag.com/agronomy/crop-protection : Preserve your genetic yield potential with GreenPoint Ag Holdings, LLC’s diverse southeastern crops. We are on top of the latest developments in crop protection. Call us on 256.560.2848 for more information.
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Phone: 256.560.2848
Category: Agricultural Service | Business
#crop protection marks ms#crop consulting vacherie la#crop protection covington tn#crop protection services mcGehee ar
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"La machine c’est l’infection même. La défaite suprême ! Quel flanc ! Quel bidon ! La machine la mieux stylée n’a jamais délivré personne. Elle abrutit l’Homme plus cruellement et c’est tout ! J’ai été médecin chez Ford, je sais ce que je raconte. Tous les Fords se ressemblent, soviétiques ou non !... Se reposer sur la machine, c’est seulement une excuse de plus pour continuer les vacheries. C’est éluder la vraie question, la seule, l’intime, la suprême, celle qu’est tout au fond de tout bonhomme, dans sa viande même, dans son cassis et pas ailleurs !... Le véritable inconnu de toutes les sociétés possibles ou impossibles… Personne de ça n’en parle jamais, c’est pas "politique" !... C’est le Tabou colossal !... La question "ultime" défendue ! Pourtant qu’il soit debout, à quatre pattes, couché, à l’envers, l’Homme n’a jamais eu, en l’air et sur terre, qu’un seul tyran : lui-même !..."
Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Mea Culpa, 1936.
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« Ils achèteront plus tard mes livres, beaucoup plus tard, quand je serai mort, pour étudier ce que furent les premiers séismes de la fin, et la vacherie du tronc des hommes, et les explosions du fond de l’âme… ils savaient pas, ils sauront! »
Louis-Ferdinand Céline
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Dans une ruelle où même les pigeons semblent porter des expressions résignées, se trouvent des boîtes aux lettres qui, si elles pouvaient causer, lâcheraient sans doute de belles vacheries sur la condition postale. Chacune crache le portrait d'une existence aussi vide que le ballon d'un abstème. Il y a là, par exemple, la boîte du numéro 2, aussi déserte que le crâne d'un député en pleine séance. Et puis celle du numéro 3, bâillant aux corneilles, qui n'a pas reçu de billet doux depuis que le gars Graham Bell a joué avec ses fils. Quant à celle du numéro 4, elle affiche un tract électoral, preuve que la démocratie s'exprime plus volontiers sur papier glacé que dans les urnes. Et n'oublions pas la boîte du numéro 5, avec son clapet fermé tel un sarcophage scellé. Sa porte est aussi close que l'esprit d'un académicien à l'écoute des théories d'un punk anarchiste. Mais la palme revient sans conteste à celle du numéro 6, qui dégueule ses pubs comme un bateleur expulse ses boniments. C'est le monde, ça, un fatras de mots jetés sur du papier et pas une paire de mirettes pour se poser dessus.
#RuelleDesNonDits#BoîtesAuxLettresMuettes#EchoDesMotsPerdus#VieillesLettres#MessagesOublies#HistoiresDePapier#Façade#SaoneEtLoire
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La Vacherie ruins in Troyes, Champagne region of France
French vintage postcard
#vintage#vacherie#tarjeta#france#briefkaart#postcard#photography#postkaart#region#postal#carte postale#champagne#ruins#troyes#sepia#ephemera#historic#french#ansichtskarte#postkarte#la vacherie#photo
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J’ai vu le soleil bas, taché d’horreurs mystiques,
Illuminant de longs figements violets,
Pareils à des acteurs de drames très antiques
Les flots roulant au loin leurs frissons de volets !
J’ai rêvé la nuit verte aux neiges éblouies,
Baisers montant aux yeux des mers avec lenteurs,
La circulation des sèves inouïes,
Et l’éveil jaune et bleu des phosphores chanteurs !
J’ai suivi, des mois pleins, pareille aux vacheries
Hystériques, la houle à l’assaut des récifs,
Sans songer que les pieds lumineux des Maries
Pussent forcer le mufle aux Océans poussifs !
— Arthur Rimbaud - Le bateau ivre (copie manuscrite de Paul Verlaine)
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Cruz and Thinius manifested in New Orleans, French Quarter. While there were places that those with magical abilities gathered all across the globe, one of the hot spots was NOLA. It was also one of the few places that they could walk around clothed as they normally were accustomed and no one would look askance at them. Next stop would be Edinburgh, but this was also the closest city to Brie’s home base in Vacherie, Louisiana. Even though her soul had been stolen when she was in Vienna, both males had a feeling that it all originated here.
Walking down Royal street, they passed behind the St. Louis Cathedral. They were getting ready to head into the less touristy part of The Quarter. The part where the stars lived, and those who held true power. Most of the mortals around them could not feel the vibration of power emanating from this part of The Quarter like they could. There would be a reckoning, and both males knew that they would be busy for hours, if not days with those who lived here.
Why was this area of the city more concentrated with magic practitioners and beings than the others? The proximity to the great power source of the Mississippi River. Water was always an attractor to those who possessed magic, but the flowing of the mighty river provided even more power. It was a conduit that ran through the length of the United States. There was no greater concentration of that power than in New Orleans. Second was the city of St. Louis, but it was far weaker in comparison. Only on the Canadian side of the Niagra Falls could similar power be found on the North American continent. That would be their next stop.
Black leather boots made soft crunching sounds on the uneven and well-worn pavement as they crossed an unseen barrier. Wards flared all over the Quarter as the pair walked. Cruz stood a solid and intimidating seven feet in height, Thinius was only two inches shorter, but with the difference in heel heights of their boots the males were even. Their strides were long and purposeful, in step and giving off an air of not being two you wanted to fuck with. Even mortals who had no clue who the two were seemed to part and let them through, their subconscious sensing that these were not two that you wanted to get in the way of in the least.
Leviathan’s words still ate at a part of Thinius. Had the Prince been right that he was being replaced after eons of servitude to Abbadon? In all those years, Abbadon had never showed the kind of care and concern that he was for that female back in his bed. Shit, hardly ever in the last few millennia had there just been one female in his bed. Something was changing, and Thinius wasn’t sure of his place in it. He wasn’t ready to turn completely on his boss, but that didn’t mean it was all sitting well.
“Mine sister is his bride and he is the Fifth Horseman.” Cruz’s heavily accented voice was low, meant only for Thinius to hear. Most mortals would have missed it, but he knew the demon had far better hearing than even devices devised by mortal hands.
“What?” Thinius looked over at the Nephilim, wondering how the fuck he heard his thoughts. Even his boss couldn’t do that. What the hell was this male?
“Empath, Horseman of War, and I’m damn old. One dost learn to read those things left unsaid. You hast been thinking on Leviathan’s words.” Cruz stopped now that the street was empty and walked over to lean against the wall of one of the buildings. “There are things he did not tell you. Leviathan holds the deed to Brie’s soul, sold by our mother to save mine own soul. That she should choose Abbadon is an affront for which he has taken great offense. That is why twas him that stole her soul and that we now track since he fled Hell. If Abbadon did not fully trust and hold faith in you, you would not be on this mission. “ His arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the other male, crossing one ankle over the other as he leaned against the building.
Facing the Nephilim, Thinius’s mind was tumbling over everything that he had just said. “He said she’s Death and a Grigori…holy shit!” It all dawned on Thinius now and anger started to swell within him. Now he understood Abbadon’s reaction when he had told him that her soul was missing. “So I bet Leviathan won’t be the last Prince to come and try to turn me…or any of us.” Cruz nodded solemnly.
“Mine own mother desired for me to be the harbinger of mine sister’s death so that Leviathan could own her soul, as did Lucifer. Tis why he is currently attached to the wall in the great hall of the Palace.” Thinius started laughing, causing Cruz’s brow to rise.
“Wait, it was you…no Brie? Damn! Remind me to never fuck with your sister! There isn’t a demon or being in Hell that hasn’t heard about that. They still can’t get Lucifer off of that wall. Maybe we should pay him a visit before we head up to Niagra. It’s still fucking cold up there and the old bastard might be able to give us some intel that would keep us from having to go up there.” He chuckled as she shook his head.
Cruz cracked an amused smirk. “Brie. Pissing off mine sister is far from smart.” He pushed off of the wall and the two males started walking down the street again.
At the next cross street, they turned left towards Rampart. Both were on guard, they could feel the magical wards they were crossing. Still there was a lot of swagger in their strides as the two broad and tall makes walked the street. Backs straight, shoulders back, they looked as serious and lethal as they truly were. Neither could help but think that they had never dreamed in their long lives of fighting alongside a being such as the other. War can create strange bedfellows, and that is exactly what this was. It was WAR. Leviathan had fired a shot at Abbadon and Brie. Neither Thinius, the Horsemen, or the Angels were going to back down.
Finally the number that they were looking for came into view. The men stopped, looked at each other, then turned and in unison hit the door with their feet. The hinges squealed as they broke free from the doorframe and the door fell inward. Cruz took point as they climbed the old and worn staircase. Their shoulders brushed the sides of the narrow stairway, each footfall sounding like it was going to send the stair crashing into the floor below. Still the men didn’t pause. They weren’t hiding their entry, which meant the warlock had time to prepare for them. If he was smart, he would just tell them what they wanted to know.
The ball of energy that hit the wall, barely missing Cruz’s head, as he rounded the top of the staircase told him that this was not going to be easy. Sensing no one but the Warlock ahead, Cruz misted behind him and quickly had the other male in a headlock as Thinius sauntered down the hallway towards them. The warlock was too busy clawing at Cruz’s arm to cast a spell towards Thinius, but his eyes spoke volumes regarding how much he realized he was screwed. Kicking the door closed behind him as he entered the home of the warlock, Thinius cast a ward that would silence any sounds from being heard by the mortals and would block all that transpired from view of anyone outside the windows.
Kneeling down to where the warlock had gone to his knees from lack of Oxygen, Thinius grinned. “Now, now Gerard. You should know better than to try and attack a Horseman. One with a demon in tow? Now, that was the supreme act of idiocy. You see, he and I are on the same team now and my boss…well, he wants to know where yours is. So are you gonna make this shit easy, or do we have to do this the hard way?”
Cruz’s arm lessened it’s hold some to let the warlock draw in breath. “Fuck…you…” the warlock ground out before Thinius raised an eyebrow and looked at Cruz.
“Looks like he’s gonna make us do it the hard way bro.” An evil grin formed on Thinius’s lips before his fist drew back and hit the warlock with enough force in the guy to lacerate his liver and kidney. In a mortal, they would have blead out in minutes, but this would just be exceedingly painful to the warlock. More damage was to come though and it was doubtful whether he would be breathing at the end.
The warlock screamed out, but the wards Thinius had cast held. Cruz yanked the male to his feet and drug him over to a chair. Throwing him into it, both Cruz and Thinius used magic to create bindings to hold him there. “Gerard, this is thine last chance to cooperate. Thine boss has committed a grievous act against mine sister. There is no torture so obscene that I shalt not deign to employ it to find the information that I do seek. I did participate in the Inquisitions, so mine repertoire of torture is quite vast.” A dark and devious glint formed in Cruz’s eye as a smirk formed on his lips.
Thinius tried not to show his shock. How the fuck old was this dude? His language was definitely archaic, but he was beginning to wonder exactly what Abbadon had gotten him into. Most of the Nephilim that he had met were 700-800 years old tops; this one, he was far older. And a Guardian, he had only heard of rumors of the few that had been created. He looked over to the warlock, “Gerard, bro you gotta see you’re gonna loose here. If I don’t kill your ass, this dude here will.” He leaned forward to put his hands on his thighs, back straight as he looked in Gerard’s eyes. “Dude, he’s War. Yeah…I see that dawning in your eyes. He’s that War. And he’s now kinda family to my boss. So, ya might want to play nice.”
Gerard’s eyes alternated between Cruz and Thinius. He certainly liked breathing, and not being in immense pain, but he knew that if Leviathan found out he’d betrayed him that he would suffer exponentially worse for all of eternity. This was not a position that he wanted to be in. What made it worse was that he had no clue what Leviathan had done to piss Abbadon and the Horsemen off, but if they had teamed up and Abbadon was family to War? Shit! This was not a good situation and he was on the wrong side of this.
“Go. To. Hell.” Gerard spit out, his face a mask of defiance. He knew that he was about to experience pain that few could ever imagine, but he hoped in death he would be released. What he had no idea about was how long they could keep him alive and in pain, just because he had now pissed them off royally.
13 hours later, Cruz and Thinius exited the building. No trace they had ever been there remained, and they had taken care of Gerard’s body. Unfortunately they were no closer to finding Leviathan. The warlock hadn’t known where he was, or even that he had fled Hell. They did get some good information on some who might know.
“Right or left bro?” Thinius asked as he vanished the last of the gore off of his hands.
“Left, and then to Esplanade. Let’s go see the priestess.” Cruz answered as he started walking down the sidewalk. Dawn was just breaking over the city, a haze of fog hung in the air as the two dark males formed intimidating shadows as they moved. Anyone coming across them in this ambiance was going to hastily turn and head the other direction. In the mood that the two males were in, that was a very wise move
@dogmomwrites - not during the 20's, but this is the previous time they went and had some fun together. This was Chapter 19 over 100+ previously written. And...as you can see..Cruz's previous FC was used for the pic.
THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing
Let me know if you'd like +/-
#the imperium chronicles#past writing#my writing#my ocs#fantasy#fiction#writeblr#writing#new orleans
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Rien à faire
J' n’ai plus qu’ça à faire
Vous écrire un poème
Car oui, tous, je vous aime
Même si je vous pompe l’air
Mon amour mon idole
A disparu depuis trois jours
Et depuis je pleure d’amour
D’amours perdues
Car lui me pardonnait tout :
On était comme deux gars
Qui s’égaient, se respectent
Qui s’égarent, mais qui reviennent
Il partait tous les soirs chasser
Il rentrait tous les matins se poser
Sur mon lit, sur mes pieds,
Après une nuit d’amour
Bah faut bien que les corps exultent
C’est le sort de nos corps en tumultes
Il me regardait, lui le seul
Sans jugement tel que le font les humains
Vous comprenez ça, bordel, putain
Regardant profond dans mes yeux
T’as fait quoi, toi, t’as branlé
Ou bien t’as sucé ton dernier copain
Et alors, on s’en fout
Nous deux on vit la vie sans garde-fou
Mon chat ainsi est parti
La famille se fout d’moi
Me rassure et me susurre
Des mots réconfortants
Mais pas bien bandants
Mais j’en ai rien à battre
Dans la vie faut combattre
Depuis des jours un aigle tourne
Par-dessus les toits
Tout là-haut dans le ciel qu’on voit
Pour les personnes sans aucun émois
Sauf juste pour moi, je le sais, tout ça
C’est pas facile la vie d’un chat
À la montagne, les gars
Bien rare qu’ils meurent
Gras dans un canapé
À relooker la télé
Mais moi j’en ai rien à branler
Lui c’était mon pote
Mon ami
Mon copain
On était en cheviotte
Et oui, pardi
Depuis qu’on faisait le tapin
Se vautrant nus dans la laine
Jusqu’à perdre haleine
Devant le feu tout l’hiver
Dans l’herbe tout l’été.
Puis on m’a dit
C’est ainsi, c’est la vie
Combien d’oiseaux il a bouffé
Ton chat c’est un tueur
Npq la belle affaire
J’l’em. la douairière
Qu’a proféré ça gratos
Combien de poulets elle a gobé
Dans sa vie bien planquée
J’aurais ri d’imaginer un os
Leur coincer le gosier
Aux donneurs de leçons
Qui n'sont jamais que d'vieux cons
Mon chat tout maigre
S’offrait juste un rouge-gorge
Une fois l’an à l’automne
Avant l’hiver quand ils migrent
Pour fuir notre givre
C’est août mais mon cœur est en hiver
Je suis pareil un vieux con en somme
Qui pleure quand il est seul
Sans toi je suis trop seul
Mon confident
Mon amour
Mon pote
Mon ami
C’est une vacherie l’amour
Quand parti en ribotte
Lui, celui
Qu’on adore est parti.
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Super j'ai trouvé un titre à ma nouvelle histoire (il est nul mais on va faire avec ! Mdr)
Donc voilà le nouveau chapitre de UNE AUTRE DIRECTION (j'avais prévenu qu'il était nul😅 )
(Toujours les même avertissements)
3ème partie : Pourquoi ?
Elle était dans les bras de son mari, elle avait toujours les yeux fermés, pourtant elle savait que c’étaient les bras d’Arthur mais pourquoi la serrait il si fort, elle mit quelques secondes à se rappeler où elle était et ce qu’elle venait de faire. Oh par tous les dieux, elle s’était laissé sombrer, jamais elle n’avait laissé la douleur gagner, elle trouvait toujours à quoi se raccrocher. Pourtant cette fois elle avait craqué, malgré tout à l’instant où son mari posa sa main sur sa joue elle ressenti une chaleur se diffuser dans son ventre, un peu honteuse elle ouvrit les yeux et elle ancra son regard brillant dans le sien.
« Arthur ? »
« Oui … » dit-il tendrement « si vous pensez que vous m’avez déjà vu en colère ben vous vous trompez fortement »
« Mais bon sang qu’est vous avez foutu !! Alors déjà vous barrez dans la forêt c’était déjà très limite mais là …vous rendez compte que si je n’étais pas arrivé à temps ! Il va falloir vous mettre à réfléchir de temps en temps cela vous fera du bien ! Je vais quand même pas vous surveiller toutes les trois secondes ! Vraiment pourquoi vous avez fait …ça ! »
Il se tût regardant sa femme qui n’avait pas bougé d’un millimètre le regard perdu dans le vide. Oui il avait raison qu’est qu’elle avait fait, cependant elle ne pouvait pas lui expliquer, elle-même ne comprenait pas, si peut être que c’était la douleur de trop, la fois de trop. Elle souleva les épaules.
« Bon on va rentrer » dit-il plus calmement « vous devez vous changer sinon vous allez attraper la m… enfin vous allez être malade ! On reprendra cette discussion plus tard mais vous ne perdez rien pour attendre, je suis vraiment en colère cette fois ! »
Il lui replaça une mèche derrière son oreille effleurant doucement sa joue, ses gestes étaient tendre en contradiction avec ses mots
« Sinon vous pouvez marcher ? »
Elle ne réagit pas. Son mari la souleva et la pris dans ses bras, ironiquement la dernière fois qu’il l’avait porté comme cela ce fût le jour de leur mariage. Les bras autour de son cou, elle posa la tête contre son épaule, ferma les yeux prise de fatigue. Elle s’était endormie contre lui. Elle fût réveillée bien plus tard par des voix au loin, elle était dans la cabane de son frère. En se redressant elle se rendit compte qu’on l’avait changé de vêtement, elle portait une robe de Démetra, de sa belle-sœur. Ah tiens pensa-t-elle de la nouvelle Princesse de Carmèlide, après tout son frère était le prince héritier, elle était donc aussi devenue pour le coup Princesse de Carmèlide. Ironie du sort son mari s’était afin taper la Princesse de Carmèlide, faudrait peut-être lui dire qu’il s’était trompé de princesse. Avec un sourire narquois elle se dit qu’elle devrait peut-être lui dire.
Merlin la rejoint et lui proposa de l’examiner mais elle refusa en secouant poliment la tête, elle préférait se recoucher, fatiguée par toutes ses émotions. Elle dormit beaucoup car quand elle réouvra les yeux, la nuit était tombée depuis longtemps, tout le monde dormait dans la pièce. Elle voulut se lever mais le bras de son mari la tenait fermement contre lui. Pourquoi dormait-il avec elle? Il restait une couche dans la cabane et en plus il y avait seulement de la place que pour une personne dans le lit où elle se trouvait. Elle était coincée mais quelle sensation étrange de se retrouver contre lui après plus de dix ans de mariage, elle comptait sur les doigts de la main les fois où elle avait eu une telle promiscuité ave lui.
Le sommeil ne venant pas elle ressassa ses années de mariage, leur première rencontre, qu’est ce qu’elle l’avait trouvé craquant à l’époque pourtant il n’avait pas hésité à lui envoyer une vacherie « personne n’aime la nouveauté ». Elle sourit en pensant à ce souvenir, avec le temps des sentiments fort était venu malgré elle, elle voyait au-delà du Roi, elle voyait l’homme et il l’a touché vraiment, surement trop, elle avait pourtant renoncé à lui. La romance qu’elle avait rêvée jeune fille s’était envolée depuis longtemps, elle ne désirait qu’une chose aujourd’hui son bonheur à lui. Aujourd’hui elle se sentait triste, mélancolique, seule tellement seule.
Le sommeil finit par la gagner. Une nuit sans rêve, à l'aube le soleil filtra à travers les trous des planches de bois de la cabane de fortune, caressant le visage de Guenièvre. Elle était toujours dans les bras de son mari qui avait entrepris l’exploration de son cou et de ses épaules avec ses lèvres. La serrant plus fort contre lui, il fît glisser lentement son nez sur sa nuque comme pour inhaler son parfum. Elle avait ouvert les yeux doucement, osant à peine respirer tellement la situation lui paraissait incongru. Arthur desserra son étreinte et se leva de leur lit pour se rendre rapidement à l’extérieur. Laissant sa femme accusé le coup, avait-elle rêvé ? non cela ne venait pas de se produire ! Elle avait l’impression qu’il avait marqué au fer rouge sa peau avec ses baisers tellement cette dernière était devenue chaude là où il avait posé ses lèvres. Elle s’assit dans le lit, pensive, devait-elle le rejoindre ?
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