United States or Vietnam ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
As head-clerk of the Cocon d'Or, one of the oldest firms in Paris, he had bought the establishment in 1793, at a time when the heads of the house were ruined by the maximum; and the money of Mademoiselle Husson's dowry had enabled him to do this, and so make a fortune that was almost colossal in ten years.
Husson's saint, his hat, which still bore the little bunch of orange blossoms, and going out through the alley at the back of the house, he disappeared in the darkness. Virginie, the fruiterer, on learning that her son had returned, went home at once, and found the house empty. She waited, without thinking anything about it at first; but at the end of a quarter of an hour she made inquiries.
His reputation as a drunkard became so well known and spread so far that even at Evreux they talked of Mme. Husson's "Rosier," and the sots of the countryside have been given that nickname. A good deed is never lost. Dr. Marambot rubbed his hands as he finished his story. I asked: "Did you know the 'Rosier'?" "Yes. I had the honor of closing his eyes." "What did he die of?"
The latter had never much liked his departed wife, a tall, spare, red-haired woman; he was also aware of the circumstances of the late Husson's marriage with Oscar's mother, and without in the least condemning her, he knew very well that Oscar was a posthumous child. His nephew, therefore, seemed to him to have no claims on the Cardot family.
When Moreau returned to France as the secretary of the Comte de Serizy he heard of Madame Husson's pitiable condition, and he was able, before his own marriage, to get her an appointment as head-waiting-woman to Madame Mere, the Emperor's mother. But in spite of that powerful protection Clapart was never promoted; his incapacity was too apparent.
His reputation as a drunkard became so well known and spread so far that even at Evreux they talked of Mme. Husson's "Rosier," and the sots of the countryside have been given that nickname. A good deed is never lost. Dr. Marambot rubbed his hands as he finished his story. I asked: "Did you know the 'Rosier'?" "Yes. I had the honor of closing his eyes." "What did he die of?"
A little yellow dog, a half-starved cur, followed him, barking; stopping when he stopped, and starting off when he started. "Hallo," said Marambot, "there is Madame Husson's 'Rosier'. "Madame Husson's 'Rosier'," I exclaimed in astonishment. "What do you mean?" The doctor began to laugh. "Oh, that is what we call drunkards round here.
A little yellow dog, a half-starved cur, followed him, barking; stopping when he stopped, and starting off when he started. "Hallo," said Marambot, "there is Madame Husson's 'Rosier'. "Madame Husson's 'Rosier'," I exclaimed in astonishment. "What do you mean?" The doctor began to laugh. "Oh, that is what we call drunkards round here.
But to give to the devil and to God what respectively belongs to them, perhaps it would be well to show the causes of Oscar Husson's silly self-conceit, premising that he was born in the household of Madame Mere. During his early childhood his eyes were dazzled by imperial splendors.
Husson's saint, his hat, which still bore the little bunch of orange blossoms, and going out through the alley at the back of the house, he disappeared in the darkness. Virginie, the fruiterer, on learning that her son had returned, went home at once, and found the house empty. She waited, without thinking anything about it at first; but at the end of a quarter of an hour she made inquiries.
Word Of The Day