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Updated: May 22, 2025
Some workmen passed along the road singing the "Marseillaise," with Gorju among them brandishing a stick; Petit was escorting them, with fire in his eyes. "I don't like that!" said Marescot. "They are making a great outcry, and getting too excited." "Oh, bless my soul!" replied Coulon; "young people must amuse themselves." Foureau heaved a sigh.
M. de Faverges also was thinking of it, while seeking not to compromise himself. The Conservatives oscillated between Foureau and Marescot, but, as the notary stuck to his office, Foureau was chosen a boor, an idiot. The doctor waxed indignant. Rejected in the competition, he regretted Paris, and the consciousness of his wasted life gave him a morose air.
He flew into a passion, and made use of improper language, and everyone wondered at the patience of M. Foureau, who, all the same, was a surly individual, as might be seen from his big lips and bulldog jaw. The heat of the stacks became so great that nobody could come close to them any longer.
Then the curé stepped forward, arrayed in a new cassock, and, a second later, M. Foureau, in a velvet waistcoat. The doctor gave his arm to his wife, who walked with some difficulty, assisting herself with her parasol. A stream of red ribbons fluttered behind them it was the cap of Madame Bordin, who was dressed in a lovely robe of shot silk.
All the stacks, here and there, were flaming like volcanoes in the midst of the plain, stripped bare in the evening stillness. Around the biggest of them there were about three hundred persons, perhaps; and under the command of M. Foureau, the mayor, in a tricoloured scarf, youngsters, with poles and crooks, were dragging down the straw from the top in order to save the rest of it.
Meanwhile, instead of going to sleep, the subjects of the experiment were straining their eyes. "Up to the present," said Foureau, "it is not funny. Begin. I am going away for a minute." And he came back smoking an Abd-el-Kader, the last that was left from the gate with the pipes. Pécuchet recalled to mind an admirable method of magnetising.
Foureau said nothing, but smiled in a sly fashion, jealous of their having an amusement which he could not afford. The two anatomists pretended to be pursuing their investigations. The people outside, getting bored with waiting, made their way into the bakehouse, and, as they began pushing one another a little, the table shook. "Ah! this is too annoying," exclaimed Pécuchet.
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