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Updated: May 7, 2025
According to Birotteau aloes and opium were only to be found in the Rue des Lombards. Rosewater, said to be brought from Constantinople, was made in Paris like eau-de-cologne. The names of these places were shams, invented to please Frenchmen who could not endure the things of their own country.
"I am sure these gentlemen will not be sorry to stay here, instead of our going to freeze in the Hall." He did not say the word "Bankruptcy." "Gentlemen, be seated." Each took his seat, and the judge gave his own armchair to Birotteau, who was bewildered. The solicitors and the assignees signed the papers.
How will you decide?" Birotteau was too good and kind not to obey in a great crisis the unreflecting impulse of the moment. Besides, his life was already in the agony of what to him was death. He said, with a despairing look at his protectress which cut her to the heart, "I trust myself to you I am but the stubble of the streets."
I will simply look over their accounts. Pay me only two thousand francs commission. It will be money well laid out. Give me the premises to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and have your workmen on the spot." "How much it will cost, at a rough guess?" said Birotteau. "From ten to twelve thousand francs," said Grindot. "That does not count the furniture; of course you will renew that.
But after breakfast, when his friends gathered round him before a comfortable fire, Birotteau naively related the history of his troubles. His hearers, who were beginning to weary of the monotony of a country-house, were keenly interested in a plot so thoroughly in keeping with the life of the provinces. They all took sides with the abbe against the old maid.
"I hope you are not going to litter up my dining-room with your old books!" "They are books I wanted," replied the Abbe Troubert. "Monsieur Birotteau has been kind enough to lend them to me." "I might have guessed it," she said, with a contemptuous smile. "Monsieur Birotteau doesn't often read books of that size." "How are you, mademoiselle?" said the vicar, in a mellifluous voice.
There in your native place, my good little cat, with our furniture, which is worth a great deal, we shall live like princes; whereas here we want at least a million to make any figure at all." "I expected you to say all this, wife," said Cesar Birotteau. Now, listen to me.
The Abbe Birotteau was making his way to this house, where he had lived for the last two years.
Birotteau saw his coffers empty, and terror seized him: such a thing had never happened throughout his whole commercial life. Like all persons who have never struggled long with poverty, and who are by nature feeble, this circumstance, so common among the greater number of the petty Parisian tradesmen, disturbed for a moment Cesar's brain.
He did not understand the difference of the times, nor appreciate the power of the novel methods of execution, whose rapidity and extent took in, far more promptly than ever before, the whole commercial universe. Birotteau had not set foot in his manufactory since the ball; he knew nothing therefore of the energy and enterprise displayed by Popinot.
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