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Updated: June 4, 2025
Aquilina knew nothing of the irksome cares of this life; she enjoyed her existence, as many a woman does, making no inquiry as to where the money came from, even as sundry other folk will eat their buttered rolls untroubled by any restless spirit of curiosity as to the culture and growth of wheat; but as the labor and miscalculations of agriculture lie on the other side of the baker's oven, so, beneath the unappreciated luxury of many a Parisian household lie intolerable anxieties and exorbitant toil.
"An alibi," sneered Dukovski; "and what an asinine alibi!" "Did you know Aquilina?" "Yes, your worship, I know her." "And the master cut you out with her?" "Not at all. He cut me out Mr. Psyekoff there, Ivan Mikhailovitch; and the master cut Ivan Mikhailovitch out. That is how it was." Psyekoff grew confused and began to scratch his left eye.
So it was with Castanier. He had begun by installing Aquilina in a modest fourth-floor dwelling, the furniture being of the simplest kind. But when he saw the girl's beauty and great qualities, when he had known inexpressible and unlooked-for happiness with her, he began to dote upon her, and longed to adorn his idol.
And, for that matter, if one of those brutes had once fallen in love with you, you would hold sensible men in horror." "Brutes are put out of the question by the Code," said the tall, sarcastic Aquilina. "I thought you had more kindness for the army," laughed Euphrasia. "How happy they are in their power of dethroning their reason in this way," Raphael exclaimed.
"A word with you, Castanier," said Melmoth when the piece was at an end, and the attendant was fastening Mme. de la Garde's cloak. The corridor was crowded, and escape impossible. "Very well, what is it?" "No human power can hinder you from taking Aquilina home, and going next to Versailles, there to be arrested." "How so?"
"Eh! why, how can I leave the lover who writes me such sweet little notes?" she asked, pointing to the blackened scrap of paper with a mocking smile. "Is there any truth in it?" asked Castanier. "Have you really a lover?" "Really!" cried Aquilina; "and have you never given it a serious thought, dear? To begin with, you are fifty years old.
During the first year she took the nom de guerre of Aquilina, one of the characters in Venice Preserved which she had chanced to read. She fancied that she resembled the courtesan in face and general appearance, and in a certain precocity of heart and brain of which she was conscious.
The man who had looked so good-humored and good-natured had suddenly grown tyrannical and proud. The courtesan thought that Castanier had grown thinner; there was a terrible majesty in his brow; it was as if a dragon breathed forth a malignant influence that weighed upon the others like a close, heavy atmosphere. For a moment Aquilina knew not what to do.
Presently the house door was slammed violently, and Castanier reappeared. "What ails you?" cried the horror-struck Aquilina. There was a change in the cashier's appearance. A strange pallor overspread his once rubicund countenance; it wore the peculiarly sinister and stony look of the mysterious visitor. The sullen glare of his eyes was intolerable, the fierce light in them seemed to scorch.
Castanier, followed by the stranger, returned to his box; and in accordance with the order he had just received, he hastened to introduce Melmoth to Mme. de la Garde. Aquilina seemed to be not in the least surprised. The Englishman declined to take a seat in front, and Castanier was once more beside his mistress; the man's slightest wish must be obeyed.
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