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Updated: June 13, 2025
You are, after all, a soldier, and if you do your duty, you cannot always touch everything with kid gloves. My dear departed husband often told me so, and therefore console yourself and listen to me. I am ready to pardon you, but only under one condition." "Oh, under all conditions, even ever so difficult," ejaculated Coucou, lively. "Speak, please; what am I to do?"
I hastened to his assistance; the panther's paw had torn his breast and the wound caused him a great deal of pain, but when I tried to dress it he refused and said firmly: "Look after the little one, Coucou, don't mind me." I bent over the white figure; it was a beautiful girl, whose pale, wax-like face seemed to have become motionless from fright.
Coucou felt as if it were best for him to sink into the ground; red like a peony he began to stutter: "Pardon me, I intended nothing wrong!" The widow of the gendarme officer had compassion on his embarrassment. "Well, do not take it to heart too much," she said, kindly. "I do not bite anybody!
Puzzled by the apparent truth mingled with Georges' inventions, the count returned to the coucou when the others had entered the house, and looked beneath the cushion for the portfolio which Pierrotin told him that enigmatical youth had placed there. On it he read the words in gilt letters: "Maitre Crottat, notary."
"Speak, it is already granted." "Vicomte, the count never calls me Auguste, which is my baptismal name, but Coucou. If you would call me Coucou, I " "With pleasure. Well, then, Coucou, you know nothing further?" "Nothing." "It is good. You can go." The Zouave turned toward the door. When he had nearly reached it, Spero cried: "Coucou, stay a moment." "Just as you say, vicomte."
Between this relapse into lyricism and a much stronger work came the amusing Beginning in Life, suggested by his sister Laure's tale, Un Voyage en Coucou, and giving the adventures of the young Oscar Husson, a sort of Verdant Green, whose pretentious foolishness leads him into scrapes of every kind, until, having made himself the laughing-stock of all around him, and compromised many, he enlists and goes to the wars, whence he returns maimed for life.
Tearing the window open, Benedetto swung himself on the sill. He looked into the dark waters of the Seine, and firmly muttered: "Forward! Down there is hope; here, death!" Fanfaro, Gontram, Carmen, Bobichel and Coucou now hurried into the hall. Benedetto looked at them with flaming eye, and mockingly cried: "You are too late! I have killed Monte-Cristo's son!"
As the pasha is unable to attend the ball, I have to bring his letter of excuse, and now I must really go on my way." Coucou pretended not to hear these last words. He gazed at a group of men who sat at a side table, and whispered to Galoret: "Look at those fools. How they stare at you. One would think they had never seen a Chasseur d'Afrique."
Coucou was ready to answer, but the wool threads prevented him, and while Madame Caraman again broke out laughing, and Clary, below in the garden, suffered from suffocation, because she felt obliged to suppress her laughter in order not to betray her presence, the Zouave breathlessly gasped: "One drop of water I suffocate!" Madame Caraman was not cruel.
In a clerical life where work is the rule, amusement is all the more treasured because it is rare; but, above all, a hoax or a practical joke is enjoyed with delight. This fancy or custom does, to a certain extent, explain Georges Marest's behavior in the coucou. The gravest and most gloomy clerk is possessed, at times, with a craving for fun and quizzing.
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