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Updated: May 10, 2025
It inspired me with the sudden resolution of detaining this fugitive apparition, of resting, if possible, another hour near her to whose side an unexpected stroke of fortune had brought me. M. Charnot had already left the room; his rotund shadow rested on the wall of the passage. He held a travelling-bag in his hand. "Monsieur," said I, "I am sorry that you are obliged to return already to Milan.
He came down himself in a moment, and gave us an encouraging account of the patient. Hardly had the street door closed behind him when we heard the lawyer's powerful voice thundering down the stairs. "Charnot!" The old numismatist flew up the flight of stairs. "Did you call me, Monsieur?" "Yes, to invite you to dinner. I couldn't say the words just now, but it was in my mind."
As we met with some difficulty in getting upstairs, M. Charnot said, with clenched teeth: "You've managed this trip nicely, Monsieur Fabien; I congratulate you sincerely!" I saw that he intended to treat me to several variations on this theme. But there was no time for talk.
Not everybody can belong to the Institute, as your daughter remarked; not everybody can afford himself the luxury of publishing, at his own expense, works that sell twenty-seven copies or so." I expected a thunderbolt, an explosion. Not a bit of it. M. Charnot smiled outright with an air of extreme geniality. "I perceive, sir, that you are given to gossiping with the booksellers."
I am Monsieur Charnot of the Institute." Lampron gave a glance in my direction, and his frown melted away. "Excuse me, Monsieur; I only know you by your back. Had you shown me that side of you I might perhaps have recognized "
Then off she ran after her father, who had only changed one carnation for another. They went on toward St. Sulpice M. Flamaran on the right, M. Charnot in the middle, Jeanne on the left. She brushed past without seeing me. I followed them at a distance. All three were laughing. At what? I can guess; she because she was eighteen, they for joy to be with her.
It was cruel, all the same. Nothing was left for me but to hurry my departure. I got up to go. "But," said M. Charnot in the smoothest of tones, "I do not think we have yet discussed the question that brought you here." "I should hesitate, sir, to trespass further on your time." "Never mind that. Your question concerns?" "The costume of the Latini Juniani."
He came down himself in a moment, and gave us an encouraging account of the patient. Hardly had the street door closed behind him when we heard the lawyer's powerful voice thundering down the stairs. "Charnot!" The old numismatist flew up the flight of stairs. "Did you call me, Monsieur?" "Yes, to invite you to dinner. I couldn't say the words just now, but it was in my mind."
Ten minutes later the carriage drew up, and M. Charnot shook hands with me before the door of his hotel. "Many thanks, my dear young sir, for this delightful drive home! I hope we shall meet again. We are off to Florence to-morrow; is there anything I can do for you there?" "No, thank you." Mademoiselle Charnot gave me a slight bow.
During dessert, just as the Academician was singing the praises of a native delicacy, 'la forestine', my uncle, who had been revolving a few drops of some notable growth of Medoc in his glass for the last minute or two, stopped suddenly, and put down his glass on the table. "My dear Monsieur Charnot," said he, "I have a painful confession to make to you." "Eh? What?
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