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Updated: May 21, 2025
We dismissed the chief of our Cabinet, giving him a prefecture of the first class by way of consolation; but we kept the chef of our kitchen." "Ah, you see," said M. Barreau, who rejoiced to hear this story, "you see what it is to serve in the house of a grand seigneur. But parvenus are parvenus what will you have?" "And that is all Jansoulet is," added M. Francis, tugging at his cuffs.
"No matter; take my trunk upstairs all the same." And, with a malicious little twitching of the eye, a touch of pride, of vengeance for the insolent glances turned upon her, she added: "I am his mother." Scullions and grooms stood aside respectfully. M. Barreau raised his cap: "I was saying to myself that I had seen Madame somewhere."
"My lad," to M. Barreau, to a man of his importance! It raised her at once to a very high place in the esteem of the others. Well! grandeur and splendour hardly dazzled this courageous old lady.
For instance, I noticed at M. Noël's party that the coachmen did not fraternize with their grooms, nor the valets de chambre with the footmen and out-riders, any more than the steward and butler mingled with the scullions; and when M. Barreau cracked a little joke, no matter what it was, it was a pleasure to see how amused his underlings seemed to be. I have no fault to find with these things.
M. Louis himself addressed some remarks to the company upon the subject with his grand air: "In our establishment, my dear M. Barreau, the cook quite recently had an affair, similar to yours, with the chief of his excellency's Cabinet, who had permitted himself to make some comments upon the expenditure.
The disturbance was quickly appeased, thanks to our arrival, thanks also to the wise words of M. Barreau, a middle-aged man, sedate and majestic, with a manner resembling my own. He is the Nabob's cook, a former chef of the Cafe Anglais, whom Cardailhac, the manager of the Nouveautes, has procured for his friend.
An old man issued forth, who fell on the prisoner's neck, exclaiming, "My nephew!" Martin trembled in every limb, but only for a moment. Promptly recovering himself, and gazing calmly at the newcomer, he asked coolly "And who may you be?" "What!" said the old man, "do you not know me? Dare you deny me? me, your mother's brother, Carbon Barreau, the old soldier!
Come on, Humpty-Dumpty!" roared the coachman, choking with rage, while they carried his innocent victim into the adjoining room, where the ladies, young and old, were engaged in bandaging his nose. The excitement was soon allayed, thanks to our arrival, thanks also to the judicious words of M. Barreau, a man of mature years, sedate and majestic, of my own type.
You affirm his name to be ?" "Arnauld du Thill, also called 'Pansette, after his father, Jacques Pansa. His mother was Therese Barreau, my sister, and he was born in the village of Sagias." "What have you to say?" demanded the judge, turning to the accused. "Three things," replied the latter, unabashed, "this man is either mad, or he has been suborned to tell lies, or he is simply mistaken."
The old man was struck dumb with astonishment. But his supposed nephew's start of terror had not been lost upon the judge, also much impressed by the straightforward frankness of Carbon Barreau.
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