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Updated: June 11, 2025
She held that, next to being a soldier, it is good to be a soldier's wife and the mother of fighting men. And when she thought of the Rue du Cherche-Midi, she was not able to be amused, as the notary had said of Denise. There was a short silence in the notary's office. De Vasselot was fingering the hilt of his long cavalry sword reflectively. After a moment he glanced across at Denise.
'Let's go to Mahoudeau's. They at once turned into the Rue du Cherche-Midi. There, at a few steps from the boulevard, Mahoudeau, a sculptor, had rented the shop of a fruiterer who had failed in business, and he had installed his studio therein, contenting himself with covering the windows with a layer of whitening.
We must examine him on that point without delay.... Send for him immediately, Lieutenant!... According to the prison register, he occupies cell 26." "Excuse me, Commandant; Vinson, who was registered this morning at the Cherche-Midi prison, must actually be in the Council buildings, where he occupied cell 27."
From the Rue du Cherche-Midi in Paris to the Casa Perucca in Corsica is as complete a change as even the heart of woman may desire.
Mademoiselle Brun knew all the conversational tricks that serve to economize words. "It is all based upon supposition," said the erstwhile mathematical instructress of the school in the Rue du Cherche-Midi. "It will be time enough to arrive at a decision when the reverse comes. The Count de Vasselot or the Abbe Susini will, no doubt, warn us in time." "Ah!" said Mademoiselle Brun.
"Well, the dust that you complain of is rather milder than that. Anyway I don't hear you coughing.... But if you're ready we'll be on our way." "Where shall we go?" asked Durtal. Des Hermies did not answer. They left the rue du Regard, in which Durtal lived, and went down the rue du Cherche-Midi as far as the Croix-Rouge.
At the close he asked abruptly: "Now what are we going to do?" Juve shook his head. "Attention, my lad! Don't mix up the questions!... What am I going to do?... What are you going to do?... You, Fandor, ought to return to Cherche-Midi straight away, and ask them to put you back in your cell.
I was to attend to a prisoner who had fainted. This man, when crossing the rue du Cherche-Midi, had suddenly lost consciousness. His warders could not revive him. They carried him to his cell. They laid him on his palliasse. When I arrived the man was dead." "Dead of what?" demanded Dumoulin. "A bullet in his heart," replied the surgeon.... "I ascertained this when undressing him.
That, and a single memory the secret, perhaps, which was such a standing joke at the school in the Rue du Cherche-Midi made up the whole life of this obscure woman. Two days later she gave Lory Susini's message; and de Vasselot sent for the surgeon. "I am going," he said. "Patch me up for a journey." The surgeon had dealt so freely with life and death that he only shrugged his shoulders.
"Florine's Matifat?" asked Blondet. "Well, yes. Lousteau's Matifat; ours, in fact. The Matifats, even then lost to us, had gone to live in the Rue du Cherche-Midi, as far as may be from the Rue des Lombards, where their money was made. For my own part, I had cultivated those Matifats.
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