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Updated: June 13, 2025
Gilles had brought back hope to its inmates. Of his designs he had said but a word, "I have the means of helping you: I mean, by marrying Gilberte, to acquire the right of doing so." But that word had been enough. Mme.
With admiring eyes I saw, luminous and imprisoned in a bowl by themselves, the agate marbles which seemed precious to me because they were as fair and smiling as little girls, and because they cost five-pence each. Gilberte, who was given a great deal more pocket money than I ever had, asked me which I thought the prettiest. They were as transparent, as liquid-seeming as life itself.
One might have said that some mysterious charm had come into her life. Her husband was also quite happy and never took his eyes off her. He said to Jeanne one evening: "We are very happy just now. Gilberte has never been so nice as this. She never is out of humor, never gets angry. I feel that she loves me; until now I was not sure of it."
M. Favoral stopped short, struck his forehead, and with the accent of a man who reveals something incredible, prodigious, unheard of, "Forgotten," he answered, scanning the syllables: "I have for-got-ten it." It was a fact. Every Saturday, on his way home, he was in the habit of stopping at the old woman's shop in front of the Church of St. Louis, and buying a bouquet for Mlle. Gilberte.
He had prepared himself well in advance; but though he kept coughing: hum! broum! though he kept running his finger around his shirt-collar to facilitate his delivery, the beginning of his speech stuck in his throat. Seeing how urgent it was to come to his assistance, "I was expecting you, sir," said Mlle. Gilberte. With this encouragement, he advanced towards Mme. Favoral, and, bowing low,
"Help me out of my difficulty, my dear Abbe, and I promise you that I will be converted ten years sooner than I otherwise should be! "Madame d'Arville, who takes the matter seriously, said to me the other day: "'Poor Gilberte will never marry. "My dear old schoolmate, will you allow your cousin to die the victim of a stupid piece of subterfuge on my part?
Favoral, why don't you go to bed?" The poor slave obeyed, without saying a word. And, whilst making her way to her room: "There is trouble ahead," thought Mlle. Gilberte. "But bash! If I do have to suffer some, it won't be great harm, after all.
Accordingly, M. Favoral could not help respecting her to a degree; and, when he was in fine humor, he called her the Empress Gilberte. For her alone he had some deference and some attentions. He moderated, when she looked at him, the brutality of his language. He brought her a few flowers every Saturday.
A coupe, drawn by two gray horses, had just stopped at the door. "It must be he," she said to her daughter. Mlle. Gilberte had turned slightly pale. "There is no help for it, mother," she said: "You must receive him." "And you?" "I shall remain in my room." "Do you suppose he won't ask for you?" "You will answer that I am unwell. He will understand." "But your father, unhappy child, your father?"
"And now I am determined to make them disgorge." In the mean time night had quite come. Lights appeared in the shop-windows; and along the line of the Boulevard the gas-lamps were being lit. Alarmed by this sudden illumination, M. de Tregars drew off Mlle. Gilberte to a more obscure spot, by the stairs that lead to the Rue Amelot; and there, leaning against the iron railing, he went on,
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