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Updated: May 17, 2025
We all set off together, Father Goulden gravely giving his arm to Catherine, as he always did in the street, and I marched on behind as happy as possible. Those I loved best in the world were here before my eyes, and as I went on I thought of what I should say to Aunt Grédel.
Father Goulden and I were so accustomed to this kind of life that we worked on without thinking. We troubled ourselves about nothing, the table was laid and the dinner served exactly on the stroke of noon. At night Mr. Goulden went out after supper to read the gazette at Hoffman's, with his old cloak wrapped closely round his shoulders and his big fox-skin cap pulled down over his neck.
Buche kept saying: "Well! a dozen big potatoes roasted in the ashes as we do at Harberg would rejoice my eyes. We don't eat meat every day at home, but we always have potatoes." I thought of our warm little room at Pfalzbourg, the table with its white cloth, Father Goulden with his plate before him, while Catherine served the rich hot soup and the smoked cutlets on the gridiron.
From that time it always seemed to me that things would end badly, and that the nobles had gone too far. The old commandant had said that the government behaved like Cossacks to the army, and this was horrible. M. Goulden read the "Gazette" aloud to us every day, and both Catherine and I were pleased to find there were men in Paris maintaining the very things we thought ourselves.
He glared with his little eyes like a wolf, and repeated, "Who goes there?" This Pinacle was the greatest rogue in the country. He had the year before a difficulty with Monsieur Goulden, who demanded of him the price of a watch which he undertook to deliver to Monsieur Anstett, the curate of Homert, and the money for which he put into his pocket, saying he paid it to me.
It was a beautiful letter, and it told the truth too. The very idea of going away again made me ill. So we waited from day to day Aunt Grédel, Father Goulden, Catherine, and I, for the answer from the minister. I cannot describe the impatience I felt when the postman Brainstein, the son of the bell-ringer, came into the street.
I was very unhappy, the more so, because the people who came to us to have their watches repaired, respectable citizens, mayors, foresters, etc., approved of all these sermons, and said that the like had never been heard. Mr. Goulden always kept on his work while listening to them, and when it was done he would turn to them and say, "Here is your watch, Mr. Christopher or Mr.
My heart bounded with joy, I put on my hat and went down the stairs at a leap, exclaiming, "I will be back in an hour, Mr. Goulden." I was out of doors in a moment, but what a crowd, what a crowd! they swarmed! military hats, felt hats, bonnets, and over all the noise and confusion, the church bell tolled slowly.
He seemed a little grave with all his joy. On seeing them, aunt sprang up and embraced Catherine, and then she fell into Mr. Goulden's arms and hung on his neck: "Ah! Mr. Goulden, how happy I am to see you. You are a good man; you are worth a thousand of me." Seeing that matters had taken a pleasant turn, I ran round to the door and found them both with their eyes full of tears.
"But tell us, Anna-Marie, is all this quite certain? I can hardly believe that such great happiness is in store for us." "It is quite certain, Mr. Goulden. The Count d'Artois wishes to secure his salvation, and in order to do that everything must be set in order. Mons. le Vicar Antoine of Marienthal said the same things last week.
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