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Camusot, bringing forward the Duchess; "he is one of the most distinguished horticulturists in Paris; and as he cannot spend more than one day with us, on his way back from Brittany, and has heard of your flowers and plants, I have taken the liberty of coming early." "Oh, the gentleman is a horticulturist, is he?" said the old Blondet. The Duchess bowed.

"Sir Baronet, I have imagined a speculation oh! a very comfortable job bocou profitable and rich in profits " "Now you will see," said Blondet to du Tillet, "he will not talk one minute without dragging in the Parliament and the English Government." "It is in China, in the opium trade " "Ja, I know," said Nucingen at once, as a man who is well acquainted with commercial geography.

"Journalism is, in fact, the People in folio form," interrupted Blondet. "The people with hypocrisy added and generosity lacking," said Vignon. "All real ability will be driven out from the ranks of Journalism, as Aristides was driven into exile by the Athenians.

And Lucien read, quaking for fear, but the room rang with applause when he finished; the actresses embraced the neophyte; and the two merchants, following suit, half choked the breath out of him. There were tears in du Bruel's eyes as he grasped his critic's hand, and the manager invited him to dinner. "There are no children nowadays," said Blondet.

The young patrician seemed anxious to find an ally in the great man from his own province, asked Lucien to breakfast with him some morning, and offered to introduce him to some young men of fashion. Lucien was nothing loath. "The dear Blondet is coming," said Rastignac. The two were standing near the Marquis de Ronquerolles, the Duc de Rhetore, de Marsay, and General Montriveau.

Blondet congratulated Raoul on encountering a woman guilty of nothing worse so far than horrible drawings in red chalk, attenuated water-colors, slippers embroidered for a husband, sonatas executed with the best intentions, a girl tied to her mother's apron-strings till she was eighteen, trussed for religious practices, seasoned by Vandenesse, and cooked to a point by marriage.

So, then the tilbury reached the pavilion of the Rendezvous, the countess, who stopped to ask how Madame Michaud felt, was told she had gone into the forest with her husband. "Such weather inspires everybody," said Blondet, turning his horse at hazard into one of the six avenues of the forest; "Joseph, you know the woods, don't you?" "Yes, monsieur." And away they went.

"Right, my son," said Blondet; "but we, and we alone, can comprehend that this means bringing war into the financial world. A banker is a conquering general making sacrifices on a tremendous scale to gain ends that no one perceives; his soldiers are private people's interests. He has stratagems to plan out, partisans to bring into the field, ambushes to set, towns to take.

M. Blondet possessed an income of about four thousand livres derived from land, besides the old house in the town. He meant to avenge his wrongs legitimately enough. He would leave his house, his lands, his seat on the bench to his son Joseph, and the whole town knew what he meant to do.

"Don't you see him, there, along the rocks?" Blondet, placed by direction of the old fellow in such a way that the sun was in his eyes, thrashed the water with much satisfaction to himself. "Go on, go on!" cried Pere Fourchon; "on the rock side; the burrow is there, to your left!" Carried away by excitement and by his long waiting, Blondet slipped from the stones into the water.