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Updated: July 3, 2025
At certain points of Canalis's discourse, when Monsieur Mignon, Dumay, Butscha, and Latournelle wondered at the man's utter want of logic, Modeste admired his suppleness, and said to herself, as she dragged him after her through the labyrinth of fancy, "He loves me!"
"He's one of the pistons of the big engine called 'Commerce," said poor Butscha, whose clever mind made itself felt occasionally by such little sayings timidly jerked out.
"Poor, dear Butscha!" cried Modeste, moved to tears by this maternal care. Butscha went skipping off like a man who has just heard of the death of a rich uncle. "My dear father," said Modeste, returning to the salon; "I should like to have that beautiful whip, suppose you were to ask Monsieur de La Briere to exchange it for your picture by Van Ostade."
At the beginning of October, 1829, Monsieur Simon Babylas Latournelle, notary, was walking up from Havre to Ingouville, arm in arm with his son and accompanied by his wife, at whose side the head clerk of the lawyer's office, a little hunchback named Jean Butscha, trotted along like a page.
"Butscha was right, God is the greatest of all landscape painters," said Canalis, contemplating the view, which is unique among the many fine scenes that have made the shores of the Seine so justly celebrated.
At table Butscha played the part of Trigaudin, in the "Maison en loterie," in a way that alarmed Ernest, who did not know the waggery of a lawyer's office, which is quite equal to that of an atelier.
Butscha did not understand this epigram, whose meaning could only be guessed by Monsieur and Madame Mignon and Dumay. "When it is a question of marriage, all men disguise themselves," remarked Latournelle, "and women set them the example.
Butscha shuddered slightly when he caught sight of her, so changed did she seem to him. The wings of love were fastened to her shoulders; she had the air of a nymph, a Psyche; her cheeks glowed with the divine color of happiness. "Who wrote the words to which you have put that pretty music?" asked her mother. "Canalis, mamma," she answered, flushing rosy red from her throat to her forehead.
Without the foregoing discussion on the lawfulness of matrimonial tricks, the reader might possibly find the forthcoming account of the evening so impatiently awaited by Butscha, somewhat too long. Desplein, the famous surgeon, arrived the next morning, and stayed only long enough to send to Havre for fresh horses and have them put-to, which took about an hour.
Dumay went down to Havre early in the morning, and soon discovered that no architect had been in town the day before. Furious at Butscha's lie, which revealed a conspiracy of which he was resolved to know the meaning, he rushed from the mayor's office to his friend Latournelle. "Where's your Master Butscha?" he demanded of the notary, when he saw that the clerk was not in his place.
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