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Updated: June 17, 2025
Love, who, seeing himself in for it, suddenly jerked off the epicier, thrust his hands down into his breeches' pockets, buried his chin in his cravat, elevated his eyebrows, screwed in his eyes, and puffed out his cheeks, so that the astonished Monsieur Goupille really thought himself bewitched, and literally did not recognise the face of the match-maker.
"No sham if you please, madame speak! What the devil have you done with the money?" "Really, sir," said Monsieur Goupille, drawing tip his cravat, "this is very extraordinary conduct! What have you got to say to this lady's money? it is my money now, sir!" "Oho! it is, is it? We'll soon see that. Approchez donc, Monsieur Favart, faites votre devoir."
"Sacre! but you have not played the economist, Monsieur Lofe," said Monsieur Goupille, rather querulously, as he glanced at the long room adorned with artificial flowers, and the table a cingitante couverts. "Bah!" replied Mr. Love, "you can retrench afterwards. Think of the fortune she brought you." "It is a pretty sum, certainly," said Monsieur Goupille, "and the notary is perfectly satisfied."
"With what does not concern me!" repeated Monsieur Goupille, drawing himself up to so great a stretch that he seemed pulling off his tights the wrong way. "Explain yourself, if you please! This lady is my wife!" "Say that again, that's all!" cried the whiskered stranger, in most horrible French, and with a furious grimace, as he shook both his fists just under the nose of the epicier.
"No sham if you please, madame speak! What the devil have you done with the money?" "Really, sir," said Monsieur Goupille, drawing tip his cravat, "this is very extraordinary conduct! What have you got to say to this lady's money? it is my money now, sir!" "Oho! it is, is it? We'll soon see that. Approchez donc, Monsieur Favart, faites votre devoir."
"Still-what dower has she?" "Forty thousand francs, and sickly," replied Mr. Love; "but she likes a tall man, and Monsieur Goupille is " "Tall men are never well made," interrupted the Vicomte, angrily; and he drew himself aside as Mr. Love, gallantly advancing, gave his arm to Madame Beavor, because the Pole had, in rising, folded both his own arms across his breast. "Excuse me, ma'am," said Mr.
Monsieur Goupille, in equal surprise and indignation to see his better half thus consigned, without any care to his own marital feelings, to the arms of another, was about to snatch her from the Pole, when Monsieur Favart, touching him on the breast with his little finger, said, in the suavest manner, "Mon bourgeois, meddle not with what does not concern you!"
Monsieur Goupille, in equal surprise and indignation to see his better half thus consigned, without any care to his own marital feelings, to the arms of another, was about to snatch her from the Pole, when Monsieur Favart, touching him on the breast with his little finger, said, in the suavest manner, "Mon bourgeois, meddle not with what does not concern you!"
Monsieur Love, who was thundering down behind her, cried, "Bravo!" and as the well-grown gentleman had to make a sweep to avoid disturbing her equilibrium, he came full against the whiskered stranger, and sent him off as a bat sends a ball. "Mon Dieu!" cried Monsieur Goupille. "Ma douce amie she has fainted away!"
The banquet over, the revellers prepared for a dance. Monsieur Goupille, in tights, still tighter than he usually wore, and of a rich nankeen, quite new, with striped silk stockings, opened the ball with the lady of a rich patissier in the same Faubourg; Mr. Love took out the bride.
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