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Updated: June 22, 2025
They conversed, Delaherche, who had recovered his assurance and was again the wealthy manufacturer, the condescending patron courting popularity, severe only toward those who failed to succeed, spoke of Napoleon III., whose face as he saw it last continued to haunt his memory. He addressed himself to Jean, having that simple-minded young man as his neighbor.
About that time Delaherche became conscious of a sensation of isolation, accompanied by a most uncomfortable feeling of physical distress. His hunger was asserting itself again, a griping, intolerable hunger, and he persuaded himself that it was debility alone that was thus robbing him of courage and resolution.
And now I haven't a thing, not a handkerchief, not a pair of socks! Upon my word, it is enough to make one mad!" Delaherche was for taking him home to his house forthwith, but he resisted. No, no; he was no longer a human being, he would not frighten people out of their wits.
With some little difficulty, however, they succeeded in reaching the Place de l'Hotel de Ville, where they encountered M. Delaherche, intent on picking up the latest news and seeing what was to be seen.
The story of his gallantry in the field made him even more interesting still, and Delaherche, who had received Henriette with the cordiality of a man to whom the sight of a new face is a godsend, while the servants were handing round the cutlets and the potatoes cooked in their jackets, never seemed to tire of eulogizing his secretary, who was as industrious and well behaved as he was handsome.
Irritated by the question, which detained him at the very moment when he thought he should be able to slip away unobserved, Delaherche gave a wrathful look and murmured, sinking his voice: "Oh, yes, all over! until it begins again! There is nothing signed." The colonel went on in a voice scarcely higher than a whisper; delirium was setting in. "Merciful God, let me die before the end!
As soon as they recognized Delaherche in the distance, carrying a large basket and with a loaf of bread under either arm, they darted forward fast as their legs could carry them, but even thus they were too late; a crowding, jostling mob closed in, and in the confusion the dazed manufacturer was relieved of his basket and one of his loaves, which vanished from his sight so expeditiously that he was never able to tell the manner of their disappearance.
He was surrounded by his military family, aides and officers of rank, and a colonel of dragoons, who had already applied to me for information about the country, had just motioned me not to go away, when all at once " Delaherche rose from his chair, for he had reached the point where the dramatic interest of his story culminated and it became necessary to re-enforce words by gestures.
Delaherche was still chatting with Rose in the room below when a non-commissioned officer of the guard came running in and interrupted them. "Mademoiselle, the house is in confusion, I cannot find a servant. Can you let me have something from your linen closet, a white cloth of some kind?" "Will a napkin answer?" "No, no, it would not be large enough. Half of a sheet, say."
But no one in this transitory world can tell what time has in store for him; when the devout young person's time came to leave this life Delaherche, who had known none of the joys of youth, fell head over ears in love with a young widow of Charleville, pretty Madame Maginot, who had been the subject of some gossip in her day, and in the autumn preceding the events recorded in this history had married her, in spite of all his mother's prayers and tears.
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