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Updated: June 29, 2025
I've found it," cried Rose-Pompon, interrupting Ninny Moulin; "it is some gentleman who offers me his hand, his heart, and all the rest of it. Could you not tell me that directly?" "A marriage? oh, laws, yes!" said Dumoulin, shrugging his shoulders. "What! is it not a marriage?" said Rose-Pompon, again much surprised. "No." "And the offers you make me are honest ones, my big apostle?"
"You acknowledge then, that these notes were in your possession?" "Yes, I do." Underline it with red pencil!" Dumoulin fired a point-blank question at Fandor. "Did you know Captain Brocq?" "No." "You did know him," insisted the commandant. "No," repeated Fandor. He questioned in his turn: "Why?"
"That is my Ninny Moulin. Do you know him? Is he the same as yours?" "The same as mine," said Rodin, raising his head, and waving his hand very affectionately to Jacques Dumoulin, who, stupefied thereat, retired abruptly from the window. "The poor fellow! I am sure he is afraid of me since his foolish joke," said Rodin, smiling. "He is very wrong."
Dumoulin, the religious writer, who wished to dispute possession of Mme. de la Sainte-Colombe with his patron, M. Rodin Dumoulin, surnamed Ninny Moulin, standing on the front cushions, would have presented a magnificent study for Callot or Gavarni, that eminent artist, who unites with the biting strength and marvellous fancy of an illustrious caricaturist, the grace, the poetry, and the depth of Hogarth.
These are now all under way; astir from Jauernik and Schweidnitz, silently streaming along; and Dumoulin bivouacs here, very silent he: not so silent the Saxons; who are still marching in, over yonder, to westward of Dumoulin, their rear-guard groping out its posts as it best can in the dark.
Dumoulin had recently taken up his new duties, and was counting on getting peacefully into the run of things, when, the evening before, he had been warned at his own home by a private note from the Minister, that a deserter, accused of treason, had been arrested, and that Corporal Vinson was the man in question. At the sight of this name Commandant Dumoulin thrilled with excitement.
"The devil he was!" said Dumoulin, somewhat out of countenance, though in general not over-scrupulous in the choice of his bottle-companions: but, after the first surprise, he resumed, with the most charming amenity: "There are some rag-pickers very high by scent I mean descent!"
He had never spoken to me of these papers, so, not knowing if they were good for anything, I left them at the bottom of an old trunk, instead of burning them which was well for me, since it is upon these papers that I have had money advanced." "What a godsend!" said Dumoulin. "But somebody must have known that you had them?"
"And if I had arrived at the conviction that it was neither white nor red?" asked Dumoulin, with a magisterial air. "That could only be when you had drunk till all was blue," observed Sleepinbuff. "The partner of the Queen says well. One may be too athirst for science; but never mind!
Each day brought him one distraction which he would willingly have foregone: he passed long exhausting hours in Commandant Dumoulin's office. He found the commandant detestable. Dumoulin was hot-blooded, noisy, unmethodical, always in a state of fuss and fume!
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