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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Push, push!" she urged the children; and they pushed with all the force of their tiny hands; but she was heavy, and they could scarcely stir the swing. "Push!" she urged again. "Oh, the big sillies, they can't!" In the pavilion, Madame Deberle had just felt a slight chill.
A chair was ready for her; and on the morrow she would still find on the gravel walk the scattered clippings of thread that had fallen from her work on the previous afternoon. "You are quite at home," Madame Deberle repeated every evening, displaying for Helene one of those affections of hers, which usually lasted some six months.
"People might imagine that somebody in the house was dead." Then, turning towards Madame Deberle, who was approaching him, he continued: "Well, you can boast of having made me run about! Ever since the morning I have been hunting for Perdiguet; you know whom I mean, my singer fellow. But I haven't been able to lay my hands on him, and I have brought you the great Morizot instead."
Perhaps it might prove a case of typhoid fever. But in the meantime he gave no decided opinion, as the anaemic nervous affection, for which the patient had been treated so long, made him fear unforeseen complications. "What do you think?" he asked, after delivering himself of each remark. Doctor Deberle answered with evasive questions.
Their admiration was so ingenuously and charmingly expressed, that a faint smile also rippled over Helene's face. Then Madame Deberle stretched herself on the sofa. "You were not at the first night at the Vaudeville yesterday, madame?" she asked, as she played with the fan that hung from her waist. "I never go to the theatre," was Helene's reply. "Oh! little Noemi was simply marvellous!
Amidst all the neighboring houses these trees gave the spot the aspect of a nook in some park, and seemed to increase the dimensions of this little Parisian garden, which was swept like a drawing-room. Between two of the elms hung a swing, the seat of which was green with damp. Helene leaned forward the better to view the scene. "Oh, it is a hole!" exclaimed Madame Deberle carelessly.
His hands were still wandering over it; it seemed to him as soft as highly-glazed letter-paper. "Don't go so far away," called Pauline. "Well, we'll leave now," said Madame Deberle. "There's nothing more to be done, and the children must be hungry." The little girls, who had scattered like some boarding-school at play, had to be marshalled together once more.
"And how old were you when you were married?" was Madame Deberle's next question. "Seventeen." "You must have been very beautiful." The conversation suddenly ceased, for Helene had not seemed to hear the remark. "Madame Manguelin!" announced the footman. A young, retiring woman, evidently ill at ease, was ushered in. Madame Deberle scarcely rose.
Some more of the older people joined in the fun. Helene and Madame Deberle, noticing some little maids who were too bashful to venture forth, dragged them into the thickest of the throng.
However, Helene signed to her to keep silent, and she lapsed into a fit of sulks. In front of her she could only perceive the broad back of a fat old lady. When her mother next turned towards her she was standing upright on her chair. "Will you come down!" said Helene in a low voice. "You are a nuisance." But Jeanne was stubborn. "Hist! mamma," she said, "there's Madame Deberle.
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