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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Professor you?" said she with respectful astonishment; but she did not dare ask him what he taught, and Cabassu, who felt such questions a little embarrassing, hastened to change the subject. "Shall I go and find the children? Haven't they told them that their grandmother is here?" "I didn't want to disturb them at their work. But I believe it must be over now listen!"
"Oh my darling my darling!" seizing the curly, silky little head which reminded her of another, and kissing it frantically. Then the child released himself and ran away without a word, his hair wet with hot tears. Left alone with Cabassu, the mother, whom that kiss had consoled, asked for an explanation of the priest's words. Had her son many enemies, pray?
While these fortunate ones succeed one another, others prowl about frantic with impatience, biting their nails to the quick; for one and all have come with the same object. From honest Jenkins, who headed the procession, down to Cabassu, the masseur, who closes it, one and all lead the Nabob aside.
"Oh!" said Cabassu, "it is not at all surprising in his position." "But what's all this about this being a great day, and this 'sitting' you all talk about?" "Why, yes! This is the day when we're to know whether Bernard is to be a deputy or not." "What? Isn't he one yet? Why, I have told it everywhere in the neighborhood, and I illuminated Saint-Romans a month ago. So I was made to tell a lie!"
"Go there if you choose," she said coldly; "but you know me very little if you think that I, an Afchin, will ever set foot inside that slave's door." Cabassu, seeing the turn that the discussion was taking, had prudently disappeared in an adjoining room, the five books of Révolte in a pile under his arm.
It seems to me you've spruced up mightily since the last time you came to the Bourg. What linen, what clothes! What department are you in?" "I am professor of massage," said Aristide gravely. "You a professor!" she exclaimed, with respectful amazement; but she dared not ask him what he taught, and Cabassu, somewhat embarrassed by her questions, hastened to change the subject.
From the good Jenkins, who opened the advance, to the masseur Cabassu, who closes it, all draw the Nabob away to some room apart. But, however far they lead him down this gallery of reception-rooms, there is always some indiscreet mirror to reflect the profile of the host and the gestures of his broad back. That back has eloquence. Now and then it straightens itself up in indignation.
Negresses went in and out, slowly removing their mistress's coffee service, her favorite gazelle was lapping a cup which he had overturned on the carpet with his slender nose, while the dark-browed Cabassu, seated at the foot of the bed with touching familiarity, was reading aloud to Madame a drama in verse soon to be produced at Cardaillac's theatre.
Cabassu, prudently seeing what was likely to happen, had fled into a neighbouring room, carrying with him the five acts of The Revolt under his arm. "Come," said the Nabob to his wife, "I see that you do not know the terrible position I am in. Listen."
"Why, yes, good Cabassu, it's me. I've just come. And I'm at work already, as you see. It made my heart bleed to see all this mess." "So you've come for the sitting, have you?" "What sitting?" "Why, the great sitting of the Corps Législatif. This is the day." "Faith, no. What difference do you suppose that can make to me? I don't understand anything about such things.
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