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Updated: May 2, 2025
I marry my daughter to little Crottat; he wants money, for notaries will not take paper; besides, I never give promissory notes." "Send to me on the day after to-morrow," said Birotteau proudly, counting on the payment of his own bills. "And you too, Monsieur," he said to the architect. "Why not pay at once?" said Grindot.
"When we have got our head under an umbrella we generally think it is protected from the rain," he said. Molineux noticed the mustachios and the little chin-tuft of the artist much more than he did his face, and he despised that individual folly as much as Grindot despised him. He waited to give him a parting scratch as he went out.
There's my architect, Monsieur Grindot," said the perfumer, catching sight of the young man, with whom he had made an appointment at Monsieur de la Billardiere's the night before. "Contrary to the custom of men of talent you are punctual, monsieur," said Cesar, displaying his finest commercial graces.
The poor man stopped short; he was about to ask the painter to take the note given to Grindot, ridiculing the architect with the good nature of a merchant sure of his own standing; but he saw a cloud upon Lourdois' brow, and he shuddered at his own imprudence. The innocent jest would have been the death of his suspected credit.
You have said the word, monsieur." "How much time do you give me to complete the work?" "Twenty days." "What sum do you mean to put in the workmen's pockets?" asked Grindot. "How much do you think it will cost?"
In decorating this house, which Crevel regarded as his own, Grindot had tried to compete with Cleretti, in whose hands the Duc d'Herouville had placed Josepha's villa. But Crevel, incapable of understanding art, had, like all sordid souls, wanted to spend a certain sum fixed beforehand. Grindot, fettered by a contract, had found it impossible to embody his architectural dream.
Cesarine, dear child, had spent all her little hoard, a hundred louis, on buying books for her father. Monsieur Grindot confided to her one morning that there were two book-cases in Cesar's room, which enclosed an alcove, an architectural surprise to her father.
It is impossible to guess how long an extinct reputation may survive, supported by such stale admiration. So Grindot, for the thousandth time had displayed his white-and-gold drawing-room paneled with crimson damask.
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