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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Do you remember me?" and a shaking of hands, they all seated themselves around the table. What! is that little dumpy fellow with the turned-up nose, straight as an arrow and with such a satisfied air, Gorju, who wanted to be an actor? He is one now, or nearly so, since he studies with Regnier at the Conservatoire.
"They will have them made in advance." "But wages will fall," urged Pécuchet. "When work happens to be lacking, it is because there are too many products; and you demand to have them increased!" Gorju bit his moustache. "However, with the organisation of labour " "Then the government will be the master!" Some of those around murmured: "No, no! no more masters!" Gorju got angry. "No matter!
A make-believe actor, he puts on airs, and in the three minutes that he has been in the room he has looked at his retrousse nose and his coarse face, made to be seen from a distance, ten times in the mirror. His first care is to inform Amedee that he has renounced his name Gorju, which was an impossible one for the theatre, and has taken that of Jocquelet.
Bouvard interposed. "No use," replied the mayor; "we know your opinions." "Nevertheless " "Ha! be careful; I give you warning. Be careful." Bouvard persisted no further. Gorju then turned towards Pécuchet: "And you, master, have you not a word to say for me?" Pécuchet hung down his head, as if he had a suspicion against his innocence. The poor wretch smiled bitterly.
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.
"Do you understand in the least?" asked Madame Gorju timidly of Madame de Clagny. The Public Prosecutor's wife, who, to use a phrase of Monsieur Gravier's, might have put a Cossack to flight in 1814, straightened herself in her chair like a horseman in his stirrups, and made a face at her neighbor, conveying, "They are looking at us; we must smile as if we understood."
"Simply drink a cup of tea every day an hour after dinner, as the English do, and you will get over it, for what you suffer from is an English malady," Bianchon replied very gravely. "He is certainly a great physician," said the Presidente, coming back to Madame de Clagny, Madame Popinot-Chandier, and Madame Gorju, the Mayor's wife.
Pécuchet, from his bed, saw all these things in a row, and sometimes he went as far as Bouvard's room to lengthen the perspective. One spot remained empty, exactly opposite to the coat of arms, that intended for the Renaissance chest. It was not finished; Gorju was still working at it, jointing the panels in the bakehouse, squaring them or undoing them.
The mayor and the Abbé Jeufroy had at once recognised him. He had formerly been a joiner at Chavignolles. "Come, Gorju! take yourself off," said M. Foureau. "You ought not to be asking for alms." "I! Alms!" cried the exasperated man. "I served seven years in the wars in Africa. I've only just got up out of a hospital. Good God! must I turn cutthroat?"
A make-believe actor, he puts on airs, and in the three minutes that he has been in the room he has looked at his retrousse nose and his coarse face, made to be seen from a distance, ten times in the mirror. His first care is to inform Amedee that he has renounced his name Gorju, which was an impossible one for the theatre, and has taken that of Jocquelet.
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