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Finally, Justine goes to see the woman, whose name is Madame Mahuchet; she bribes her and learns at last that her master has preserved a witness of his youthful follies, a nice little boy that looks very much like him, and that this woman is his nurse, the second-hand mother who has charge of little Frederick, who pays his quarterly school-bills, and through whose hands pass the twelve hundred or two thousand francs which Adolphe is supposed annually to lose at cards.
This little drama of unjust suspicions, this comedy of the conjectures to which Mother Mahuchet gives rise, these phases of a causeless jealousy, are laid down here as the type of a situation, the varieties of which are as innumerable as characters, grades and sorts.
Hypocrite, do you want to make me believe that you have forgotten your son so soon, M'lle Suzanne Beauminet's son?" "Then you know ?" "The whole thing! And old other Mahuchet, and your absences from home to give him a good dinner on holidays." "How like moles you pious women can be if you try!" exclaims Adolphe, in his terror. "It was Justine that found it out." "Ah!
She owed three hundred francs to her shoemaker, and was giving a dinner no later than yesterday. The shoemaker, who heard of the dinner from the cook, came to see me; we got excited, and she wanted to make a row; but I said: 'My dear Madame Mahuchet, what good will that do? you'll only get yourself hated.
The guests were arriving for dinner. You can see the appearance it had. The countess sent her maid to coax Madame Mahuchet: 'Pay you to-morrow! in short, all the snares! Nothing took. The countess, dressed to the nines, went to the dining-room. Mahuchet heard her and opened the door.
Finally, Justine goes to see the woman, whose name is Madame Mahuchet; she bribes her and learns at last that her master has preserved a witness of his youthful follies, a nice little boy that looks very much like him, and that this woman is his nurse, the second-hand mother who has charge of little Frederick, who pays his quarterly school-bills, and through whose hands pass the twelve hundred or two thousand francs which Adolphe is supposed annually to lose at cards.
It is not about myself, but about my opposite neighbour, Madame Mahuchet, a ladies' shoemaker. I had loaned money to a countess, a woman who has too many passions for her means, lives in a fine apartment filled with splendid furniture, and makes, as we say, a devil of a show with her high and mighty airs.
Think of your being a countess and owing three hundred francs to a poor shoemaker with seven children! You can guess how she railed, for the Mahuchet hasn't any education. Downstairs we rattled! heavens! like success itself. No, before we got to the street Mahuchet began to cry she's a kind woman!
It is much better to obtain some security; and you save your bile. She wouldn't listen, but go she would, and asked me to support her; so I went. 'Madame is not at home. 'Up to that! we'll wait, said Madame Mahuchet, 'if we have to stay all night, and down we camped in the antechamber. Presently the doors began to open and shut, and feet and voices came along. I felt badly.
Hypocrite, do you want to make me believe that you have forgotten your son so soon, M'lle Suzanne Beauminet's son?" "Then you know ?" "The whole thing! And old other Mahuchet, and your absences from home to give him a good dinner on holidays." "How like moles you pious women can be if you try!" exclaims Adolphe, in his terror. "It was Justine that found it out." "Ah!
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