Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: September 26, 2025
The Church and the nobility descended thus into the arena of puns, without, however, losing their dignity. "Hush!" exclaimed the recorder of mortgages. "I hear the creaking of du Bousquier's boots." It usually happens that a man is ignorant of rumors that are afloat about him.
The immorality of his private life, his intimacy with Barras and Bernadotte, displeased the First Consul even more than his manoeuvres at the Bourse, and he struck du Bousquier's name from the list of the government contractors.
Du Bousquier's aversion to the Imperial government had thrown him at first into the royalist circles of Alencon, where he remained in spite of the rebuffs he received there; but when, after the first return of the Bourbons, he was still excluded from the prefecture, that mortification inspired him with a hatred as deep as it was secret against the royalists.
About this time, when he was somewhere between forty and fifty, du Bousquier's appearance was that of a bachelor of thirty-six, of medium height, plump as a purveyor, proud of his vigorous calves, with a strongly marked countenance, a flattened nose, the nostrils garnished with hair, black eyes with thick lashes, from which darted shrewd glances like those of Monsieur de Talleyrand, though somewhat dulled.
This wealth of masculine vigor counted for much in du Bousquier's relations with others. And yet in him, as in the chevalier, symptoms appeared which contrasted oddly with the general aspect of their persons. The late purveyor had not the voice of his muscles.
"We have her! now let us find out the secret of the case," were the words written in the eyes of all present. "To make your happiness complete," said Mademoiselle Armande, "you ought to have children, a fine lad like my nephew " Tears seemed to start in Madame du Bousquier's eyes.
After a few more words of funeral oration, in which all present spoke from the heart, the chevalier took Madame du Bousquier's arm, and, gallantly placing it within his own, pressed it adoringly as he led her to the recess of a window. "Are you happy?" he said in a fatherly voice. "Yes," she said, dropping her eyes.
"But you are crazy, my dear; you don't know what you are wishing for; a child would be your death." Many men, whose hopes were fastened on du Bousquier's triumph, sang his praises to their wives, who in turn repeated them to the poor wife in some such speech as this:
Word Of The Day
Others Looking