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Updated: June 11, 2025
I sha'n't put up with it any longer, and have made up my mind to open on my own account." "And who has been employing you?" A flash of sense passed through Chupin's muddled brain. He had never wished to injure Mascarin, but merely to increase his own importance by extolling the greatness of his employer. "I worked for people who have no equal in Paris," said he proudly.
Everything has been paid for; but in case you need some money for a cab or anything of the sort, here are ten francs. If there's any you don't use, keep it for yourself. I leave this fool in your charge, take care of him." The sight of the ten-franc piece made Chupin's face brighten a little. "Very well," he replied. "I understand the business.
These accomplices were to open the scene; he was to appear only in the denouement. "All is well arranged; the mechanism will work of its own accord," he said to himself. But the "mechanism," as he styled it, failed to work. Mme. Blanche, on receiving the Widow Chupin's summons, revolted for a moment. The lateness of the hour, the isolation of the spot designated, frightened her.
An inward voice, more powerful than reason, told her that this implacable enemy was still alive, watching for his hour of vengeance. More troubled by her presentiments now, than she had been by Chupin's persecutions in days gone by, Mme. de Sairmeuse decided to apply to Chelteux in order to ascertain, if possible, what she had to expect.
But she denies it; she conceals the fact, and he doesn't even know her. She secretly watches over him, however she provides him with money, and every day she finds some way of seeing him. Now, it is to my interest to find this son." Chupin's mobile face became actually threatening in its expression; he frowned darkly, and his lips quivered.
"That method can be found in all the manuals. It is excellent, no doubt, but how can it serve us? Have you any gelatine about you?" "No." "Nor have I. You might as well have counseled me to pour melted lead upon the footprints to fix them." They continued their way, and five minutes later, without having exchanged another word, they reentered the Widow Chupin's hovel.
He involuntarily held out his hand to take the money, but quickly withdrew it, exclaiming: "No, thank you; keep it. I've been paid already." And, thereupon, he left the shop. Chupin's mother his poor good mother, as he called her would certainly have felt proud and delighted at her son's disinterestedness.
Chupin's mind was so busily occupied with these thoughts that he reached the Rue d'Anjou and M. de Coralth's house almost before he was aware of it. To his great surprise, the concierge and his wife were not alone. Florent was there, taking coffee with them. The valet had divested himself of his borrowed finery, and had donned his red waistcoat again.
It was easy to explain Chupin's terror when one saw Jean Lacheneur. His clothing was literally in tatters, his face wore an expression of ferocious despair, and a fierce unextinguishable hatred burned in his eyes. When he entered the cottage, Marie-Anne recoiled in horror. She did not recognize him until he spoke. "It is I, sister," he said, gloomily. "You my poor Jean! you!"
Might it not have been some strolling vagrant whose attention was attracted by the two pistol shots? This is what we must ascertain. And we will ascertain it. Come!" A wooden fence of lattice-work, rather more than three feet high, was all that separated the Widow Chupin's garden from the waste land surrounding it.
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