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Updated: June 26, 2025
Little Guiraud, a mere bantling of two-and-a-half summers, wore his clown's costume in so comical a style that every one as he passed lifted him up and kissed him. "Here comes Jeanne," exclaimed Madame Deberle, all at once. "Oh, she is lovely!" A murmur ran round the room; heads were bent forward, and every one gave vent to exclamations of admiration.
Finally, Madame Deberle resumed her embroidery, making perhaps two stitches in a minute. Helene, who was only happy when busy, begged permission to bring her work the next time she came. She found her companions somewhat dull, and whiled away the time in examining the Japanese pavilion.
Give my best regards to Monsieur de Guiraud." When Madame Deberle returned she found Helene standing in the middle of the drawing-room. Jeanne had drawn close to her mother, whose hands she firmly grasped; and thus clinging to her caressingly and almost convulsively, she was drawing her little by little towards the doorway.
She heard nothing but the dull thud with which the stone slab of the vault fell back into its place. All was over. Meanwhile, however, Pauline had observed her and pointed her out to Madame Deberle, who almost gave way to anger. "What!" she exclaimed; "she has come. They are supposed to be so prostrated by grief as to be unable to appear in public.
And, as she lingered with the men, laughing and quizzing, the noise grew more pronounced than ever. There was a discussion going on among these males, and she supplied additional matter for argument. In the larger drawing-room Madame Deberle was in agony.
He had met Madame Deberle in Helene's rooms, and thought he would not be deemed presuming in presenting himself here when unable to find her. Madame Deberle proved very gracious, pleased as she was with the good-natured air of the worthy man; however, she soon returned to a lively discussion with Malignon. Bon ami will push you!" Jeanne called out, as she danced round her mother. "Be quiet!
At the near end of the garden, in a kind of greenhouse built somewhat in the style of a Japanese pavilion, they found Madame Deberle and her sister Pauline, both idling away their time, for some embroidery, thrown on the little table, lay there neglected. "Oh, how good of you to come!" cried Juliette. "You must sit down here. Pauline, move that table away!
Madame Deberle had just directed a meaning nod towards her husband. The doctor, understanding her, thereupon opened the door of a large drawing-room, into which they all filed, while a servant removed the coffee-tray. There was almost a chill atmosphere in this spacious apartment, through which streamed the white light of six lamps and a chandelier with ten wax candles.
It is barely fair to an author to give him the credit of knowing something about the proper relative proportions of his characters. And so, although Dr. Deberle is somewhat shadowy, he certainly serves the author's purpose, and well, Dr. Deberle is not the hero of "An Episode of Love." Rambaud and the good Abbe Jouve are certainly strong enough. There seems to be a touch of Dickens about them.
She wanted to go down, but Monsieur Rambaud held her back, while Madame Deberle explained to her that it was not the thing to do. But she vowed she would behave rationally, that she would not follow the funeral procession. Surely they could allow her to look on; she would remain quiet in the garden pavilion. Both wept as they heard her pleading. However, she had to be dressed.
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