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Updated: May 15, 2025
For a moment, at the sight of the embarrassment which both men displayed, she remained silent. Then, without even addressing her husband, she asked: "He is alive, is he not?" Mathieu could but tell her the truth. He answered with a nod. Then Beauchene, in despair, made a final effort: "Come, be reasonable, my dear.
Then, to attenuate the discourtesy of such a cry, Beauchene began to jest, and accepted the invitation for a later date when the warm weather should have arrived. "On my word of honor, we have business in Paris," he declared. "But I promise you that when it's fine we will all come and spend a day here yes, with our wives and children.
While she was thus engaged Beauchene drew Mathieu on one side. "I say," he began, laughing, "why did you not tell me that everything was finished over yonder? I met the pretty blonde in the street yesterday." Mathieu quietly replied that he had waited to be questioned in order to render an account of his mission, for he had not cared to be the first to raise such a painful subject.
While she continued whining, to see if she could not extract a few francs from the distressed girl, it suddenly occurred to Mathieu to carry out his mission to the very end by driving with her himself to the Foundling Hospital, so that he might be in a position to inform Beauchene that the child had really been deposited there, in his presence.
Beauchene asked her as he looked at the pale, puny child on her arm. "Yes, monsieur, it's my little Alfred; he's ten months old and I've had to wean him, for I couldn't feed him any longer. I had nine others before this one, but three are dead. My eldest son, Eugene, is a soldier in Tonquin. You have my two big girls, Euphrasie and Norine, at the works.
Beauchene, who was accompanying them as far as the gate, bareheaded and ever sturdy and victorious, gayly exclaimed to his wife: "Give the youngster a good spin on his legs! Let him take in all the fresh air he can. There's nothing like that and good food to make a man." Mathieu, on hearing this, stopped short. "Has Maurice been poorly again?" he inquired.
Mathieu had read Santerre's novel, having borrowed a copy of it from Mme. Beauchene, in order that his wife might see it, since it was a book that everybody was talking of. And the perusal of it had exasperated him.
They were walking on again when Beauchene, who had hitherto contented himself with puffing and chewing his cigar, for reserve was imposed upon him by the frightful drama of his own family life, was unable to remain silent any longer.
After he had explained the difficulty with the reaper, the others followed him to examine the work for themselves. They were already turning into a passage, when Beauchene, seeing the door of the women's workshop open, determined to pass that way, so that he might give his customary look around.
It was through Beauchene, one of the shareholders of the shooting rights, that Mathieu had made Seguin's acquaintance, and had discovered the old hunting-box, the lonely, quiet pavilion, which had pleased him so much that he had rented it.
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