Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 16, 2025
In 1836, when the friends took up their abode on the second floor, they brought about a sort of revolution in the Cibot household. It befell on this wise. Schmucke, like his friend Pons, usually arranged that the porter or the porter's wife should undertake the cares of housekeeping; and being both of one mind on this point when they came to live in the Rue de Normandie, Mme.
They had no rent to pay and no expenses for firing; Cibot's earnings amounted on an average to seven or eight hundred francs, add tips at New Year, and the pair had altogether in income of sixteen hundred francs, every penny of which they spent, for the Cibots lived and fared better than working people usually do. "One can only live once," La Cibot used to say.
That is what good M. Poulain says. See now, keep quiet and be good, my dear little sonny. Everybody that comes near you worships you, and the doctor himself comes to see you twice a day. What would he say if he found you in such a way? You put me out of all patience; you ought not to behave like this. If you have Ma'am Cibot to nurse you, you should treat her better.
"Don't know the name," said Magus, with an innocent air, bringing down his foot very gently upon his artist's toes. Moret the painter, knowing the value of Pons' collection, had looked up suddenly at the name. It was a move too hazardous to try with any one but Remonencq and La Cibot, but the Jew had taken the woman's measure at sight, and his eye was as accurate as a jeweler's scales.
Cibot told us that he was going out of his mind," resumed Jolivard. "Bons! out off his mind!" cried Schmucke, terror-stricken by the idea. "Nefer vas he so clear in der head . . . dat is chust der reason vy I am anxious for him." The little group of persons listened to the conversation with a very natural curiosity, which stamped the scene upon their memories.
The portress was contemplating the Metzu, privately wondering how a little bit of painted wood could be worth such a lot of money. "Aha!" said he, looking over her shoulder, "that is the one picture which M. Elie Magus regretted; with that little bit of a thing, he says, his happiness would be complete." "What would he give for it?" asked La Cibot.
Cibot might repeat the verdict. Mme. Cibot answered by a shake of the head indicative of deep woe. "Well, my dear monsieur," asked she, "how are you feeling?" She sat down on the foot of the bed, hands on hips, and fixed her eyes lovingly upon the patient; but what a glitter of metal there was in them, a terrible, tiger-like gleam if any one had watched her. "I feel very ill," answered poor Pons.
La Cibot was impressed by Remonencq's respect for this singular person; real power, moreover, even when it cannot be explained, is always felt; the portress was supple and obedient, she dropped the autocratic tone which she was wont to use in her lodge and with the tenants, accepted Magus' conditions, and agreed to admit him into Pons' museum that very day.
She will eat cutlets now and sleep for three hours afterwards." Out in the street La Cibot took counsel of herself as she went along, and, after the manner of all who ask for advice of any sort or description, she took the favorable part of the prediction and rejected the rest.
"One may be poor and honest," observed she. "I am sure I hope so," returned Fraisier's portress. "We are not rolling in coppers, let alone gold or silver; but we have not a farthing belonging to anybody else." This sort of talk sounded familiar to La Cibot. "In short, one can trust him, child, eh?" "Lord! when M. Fraisier means well by any one, there is not his like, so I have heard Mme.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking