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Updated: May 3, 2025
By good luck, your saintly and worthy mother had the good idea of going to the mother of M. d'Anquetil whom we knew to be busy in favour of her son, who was sought after at the same time as you were, and for the identical affair.
"It is true," said Catherine, "yonder idiot has drenched my chemise, and I am catching cold. But listen. Perhaps M. d'Anquetil could hide in the top room, and I would make the abbe my uncle and Jacques my brother." "No good at all," said M. d'Anquetil. "I'll go myself and kindly ask M. de la Gueritude to have supper with us."
"The behaviour of Madame d'Anquetil is unknown to you, and it appears that I spoke to her in the right way, because she said to me: 'Don't be troubled, Madame Menetrier; I will employ my influence in favour of your son; be sure of my zeal. And you know, Leonard, that we received before the expiration of two months the assurance that our Jacquot could return unmolested to Paris."
Let's go at once to the castle you spoke of, where I have to slip in without being seen." That was good advice, and after we had drunk the wine to the last drop we took the road, all three of us, to the Cross of the Sablons. I walked with M. d'Anquetil. My good tutor, hindered by the water his breeches had soaked in, followed us, crying, moaning and disgusted.
M. d'Anquetil, in rough, barrack-room style, promised to get the postboys hanged. When at last I was able to rise, he had already jumped out through a broken window. We followed him, my dear tutor and I, by the same exit, and then all three of us pulled Jahel out of the overturned vehicle. No harm had been done to her, and her first thought was to adjust her head-dress.
Confess, however, that it would have been a pity to leave such a fine girl for a single day longer with that old lunatic. Acknowledge that M. d'Anquetil, young and handsome, is a better mate for such a delicious creature, and resign yourself to accept what cannot be altered.
"I'll confess," said M. d'Anquetil, "that I do not believe in a God." "Now, for once, sir, I must blame you," said the abbe "One must believe in God, and all the truths of our holy religion." M. d'Anquetil protested. "You make game of us, abbe, and take us to be worse ninnies than we really are.
M. d'Anquetil was leaning on the back of the chair whereon she was sitting, holding her cheeks with his hands. He called her his soul and his life, asked her if she was hungry, and on her saying yes, he went out to give the necessary orders. Remaining alone with the unfaithful one I looked in her eyes, which reflected the flames of the fire. "Ah!
One of the springs was broken, one of the wheels also, and one of the horses lame. "Fetch a smith," ordered M. d'Anquetil. "There is no smith in the neighbourhood," was the postboy's reply. "A mechanic of some kind." "There is none." "A saddler." "There is no saddler." We looked round. To the west the vineyards extended to the horizon their long peaceful lines.
But I beg of you not to kill my pupil, Jacques Tournebroche." "Ouf!" exclaimed Catherine, arranging the lace of her chemise on her bosom. "Now I feel easier." "Abbe," replied M. d'Anquetil, "honour compels me to do it." But my kind-hearted tutor went on: "Sir, Jacques Tournebroche is very useful to me for the translation, I have undertaken, of Zosimus the Panopolitan.
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