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Updated: June 2, 2025
"Well, my dear Bordin?" said the marquis at last, holding out his snuffbox, from which the old lawyer took a pinch in an absent-minded way. Bordin rubbed the calf of his leg, covered with thick stockings of black raw silk, for he always wore black cloth breeches and a coat made somewhat in the shape of those which are now termed a la Francaise.
But tell me what to do. 'You must try to get from him a written acknowledgment; for a debtor, however, insolvent he may be, may become solvent, and then he will pay. Thereupon Bordin took from a tin box a case on which I saw the name of Mongenod; he showed me three receipts of a hundred francs each.
The big chain in the corridor came from the subterranean cells of the keep of Torteval. In the notary's opinion it resembled the boundary chains in front of the entrance-courts of manor-houses. Bouvard was convinced that it had been used in former times to bind the captives. He opened the door of the first chamber. "What are all these tiles for?" exclaimed Madame Bordin. "To heat the stoves.
Monsieur Alain paused to put the fire together; that done, he resumed: "Two weeks later I received a letter from Bordin asking me to go to his office and get my receipt. I went. 'I tried to get fifty of your louis for you, he said, 'but the birds had flown. Say good-by to your yellow boys; those pretty canaries are off to other climes. You have had to do with a sharper; that's what he is.
Mélie, just now, had been reading it in the kitchen; and, as one ought to watch over the morals of persons of that class, he thought he was doing the right thing in confiscating the book. Bouvard had lent it to his servant-maid. They chatted about novels. Madame Bordin liked them when they were not dismal. "Writers," said M. de Faverges, "paint life in colours that are too flattering."
This is an image of progress." Madame Bordin entered at this point. It was the 3rd of December, 1851. She had the newspaper in her hand. They read very quickly, side by side, the news of the appeal to the people, the dissolution of the Chamber, and the imprisonment of the deputies. Pécuchet turned pale. Bouvard gazed at the widow. "What! have you nothing to say?" "What do you wish me to do here?"
Coffee, ices, and liqueurs were in abundance. But the presence of the master himself forbade the chanting of hymns of praise in clerical stanzas. No clerk exceeded the bounds of amiable gayety, for the worthy, respectable, and generous patron had promised to take his clerks to see Talma in "Brittanicus," at the Theatre-Francais. Long life to Maitre Bordin! May God shed favors on his venerable pow!
The old servant informed them that this was M. Vaucorbeil, a doctor of some reputation in the district. She mentioned that the other people of note were the Comte de Faverges, formerly a deputy, and an extensive owner of land and cattle; M. Foureau, who sold wood, plaster, all sorts of things; M. Marescot, the notary; the Abbé Jeufroy; and the widow Bordin, who lived on her private income.
"Don't talk like that!" said Pécuchet. Then they passed the guests in review. "The doctor seems to me a nice snob!" "Did you notice the sneer of M. Marescot before the portrait?" "What a low fellow the mayor is! When you dine in a house, hang it! you should show some respect towards the curios." "Madame Bordin!" said Bouvard. "Ah! that one's a schemer. Don't annoy me by talking about her."
But, nevertheless, I hope you found a Peru in your Peruvians, for I have found a use for my funds, and shall look to you for the payment of them when the note falls due. Your friend, Alain. After waiting two weeks for an answer, I went to the rue des Moineaux. The landlady told me that the little wife really did go away with her father at the time when Mongenod told Bordin of their departure.
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