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Updated: June 25, 2025
About this time he wrote the Liber Decem Problematum, and the treatise Delle Burle Calde, one of his few works written in Italian. Opera, tom. i. p. 109. The quotation from the De Sapientia differs somewhat from the original passage which stands on p. 578 of the same volume. Opera, tom. i. p. 89. In a subsequent interview with Cardan, Cassanate modifies this statement. Opera, tom. ix. p. 124.
He returned to the desk, added up the subtracted money and found a total of five hundred and forty-five francs. Where was this deficiency to come from? The inspection was close at hand, and if the crotchety colonel should take it into his head to examine a single page, the murder would be out and Burle would be done for.
Near the fireplace sat Mme Burle, leaning back in her old yellow velvet armchair and watching the last vine branch smoke, with that stolid, blank stare of the aged who live within themselves. She would sit thus for whole days together, with her tall figure, her long stern face and her thin lips that never smiled.
In short, Burle owes the butcher two thousand francs, and Gagneux threatens that he'll inform the colonel if he is not paid. To make matters worse, Burle, just to blind me, handed me every week a forged receipt which he had squarely signed with Gagneux's name. To think he did that to me, his old friend! Ah, curse him!"
The regiment was inclined to believe that Melanie, incensed by the captain's defection, had contrived to entrap the major, telling him some abominable stories and prevailing upon him to insult and strike Burle publicly. Who would have thought it of that old fogy Laguitte, who professed to be a woman hater? they said. So he, too, had been caught at last.
Two months later the ex-major was crawling slowly along in the sunlight down a lonely street of Vauchamp, when he again found himself face to face with Mme Burle and little Charles. They were both in deep mourning. He tried to avoid them, but he now only walked with difficulty, and they advanced straight upon him without hurrying or slackening their steps.
He seemed to be half asleep as he repeated mechanically: "Home life! There's nothing like home life, nothing in the world!" "No doubt," said the major; "still, one mustn't exaggerate take a little exercise and come to the cafe now and then." "To the cafe, why?" asked Burle. "Do I lack anything here? No, no, I remain at home."
When a week had elapsed it became a proved and undeniable fact; the captain no longer set foot inside the Cafe de Paris, where the chemist, it was averred, once more reigned in his stead, to the profound sorrow of the retired magistrate. An even more incredible statement was that Captain Burle led the life of a recluse in the Rue des Recollets.
"Wasn't it Melanie who was leaving here as I came along?" asked Laguitte. Burle shrugged his shoulders. "Yes," he mumbled. "She has been dunning me for two hundred francs, but she can't screw ten out of me not even tenpence." "Indeed!" said the major, just to try him. "I heard that you had made up with her." "I? Certainly not. I have done with the likes of her for good."
"What a snout!" said Laguitte, laughing, when the maid had again left the room to fetch the cruets. "Never mind," said Burle carelessly, "she is very obliging and does all one asks her. She suits us well enough as a scullion." The dinner was very pleasant. It consisted of boiled beef and mutton hash.
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