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Yet M. Poulain's pensive air and uneasy eyes embarrassed Remonencq not a little, and at sight of the doctor he offered eagerly to go in search of M. Trognon, Fraisier's acquaintance. Fraisier turned to La Cibot to say in a low voice, "I shall come back again as soon as the will is made. In spite of your sorrow, you must look for squalls."
"In fact, we both thought you must be Madame Poulain's daughter. We knew that was Virginie's room, and we've always been hearing of that girl ever since we first came to stay in Paris. She used to be at a convent school, and she's with her grandmother in the country just now, to be out of the Exhibition rush. The Poulains simply worship her."
Poulain's remarks. He had, moreover, a certain belief in the doctor of the quarter. So on the threshold of the death-chamber he stopped and beckoned to Schmucke, but Schmucke could not bring himself to loosen the grasp of the hand that grew tighter and tighter. Pons seemed to think that he was slipping over the edge of a precipice and must catch at something to save himself.
And before she had time to try and puzzle out the sense of the words, she saw Monsieur Poulain's portly figure emerge from the left side of the courtyard, and then when he caught sight of the slim, blue-clad figure standing under his porte cochere beat a hasty retreat. Nancy's sense of discomfort and indignation grew. What did these people mean by treating her like this?
The sometime house-student set sail for Mexico, that land of gold, taking poor Poulain's little savings with him; and, to add insult to injury, the opera-dancer treated him as an extortioner when he applied to her for his money. Not a single rich patient had come to him since he had the luck to cure old M. Pillerault.
Oh, Monsieur le Senateur" she clasped her hands together "If you refuse to think of us, think of our child, think of poor little Virginie!" "Come, come, Madame Poulain!" The Senator turned to the good woman's husband, but Poulain's usually placid face bore a look of lowering rage. The mention of his idolised daughter had roused his distress as well as anger.
As if anyone would like to be white before their time!" "We had better go up this staircase," said the Police Agent, passing out of Mademoiselle Poulain's room. And the six of them all filed up the narrow staircase, glancing into many a curious, strange little apartment on the way. Every inch of space had been utilised in view of the business the Exhibition rush had brought the Poulains.
Over the bed hung Madame Poulain's wedding wreath of artificial orange blossoms in a round glass case. Photographs of the beloved Virginie taken at various stages of her life, from infancy to girlhood, were the sole other adornment of the room, and formed an odd contrast to the delicately carved frames of the old dim mirrors let into grey panelled walls.
Your sex, if I may say so, Monsieur le Senateur, is sometimes very unkind, very unfeeling, in their dealings with mine." Monsieur Poulain, who had said nothing, here intervened. "How you do run on," he said crossly. "You talk too much, my wife. We haven't to account for what has happened!" But Senator Burton had been struck by Madame Poulain's notion.
The walls of the upper stories were covered with apprentices' ribald scrawls and caricatures. The portress' last remark had roused La Cibot's curiosity; she decided, not unnaturally, that she would consult Dr. Poulain's friend; but as for employing him, that must depend upon her impressions. "I sometimes wonder how Mme.
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