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Updated: June 5, 2025
Now that the struggle between the interlopers and the heirs, hitherto existing only in his wife's mind, had become an actual fact, Monsieur Hochon's keen intelligence, lulled to sleep by the monotony of provincial life, was fully roused.
"That is my advice also," said Monsieur Hochon, who was burning with a desire for the departure of his guests. "My most earnest wish is to get away from Issoudun, though I leave my only friend here," said Agathe, kissing Madame Hochon's hand. "When shall I see you again?" "Ah! my dear, never until we meet above.
"Uncle, I have some pictures to return to you; they are now at Monsieur Hochon's. Will you be kind enough to come over some day and identify them." Saying these last words in a curt tone, lieutenant-colonel Philippe Bridau departed.
"Ah! he meant to do the deed just before he left Issoudun; he chose his time, for he was going away to-day," said one of the Knights of Idleness. "Max hasn't an enemy in Issoudun," said another. "Besides, Max recognized the painter," said the Rabouilleuse. "Where's that cursed Parisian? Let us find him!" they all cried. "Find him?" was the answer, "why, he left Monsieur Hochon's at daybreak."
"That is my advice also," said Monsieur Hochon, who was burning with a desire for the departure of his guests. "My most earnest wish is to get away from Issoudun, though I leave my only friend here," said Agathe, kissing Madame Hochon's hand. "When shall I see you again?" "Ah! my dear, never until we meet above.
Butter and radishes, in two plates, were at each end of the table; pickled gherkins and horse-radish completed the spread, which won Madam Hochon's approbation. The good old woman gave a contented little nod when she saw that her husband had done things properly, for the first day at least. The old man answered with a glance and a shrug of his shoulders, which it was easy to translate into
In October, 1823, Philippe returned to Issoudun, furnished with a power of attorney from his aunt, to liquidate the estate of his uncle; a business that was soon over, for he returned to Paris in March, 1824, with sixteen hundred thousand francs, the net proceeds of old Rouget's property, not counting the precious pictures, which had never left Monsieur Hochon's hands.
"Ah! he meant to do the deed just before he left Issoudun; he chose his time, for he was going away to-day," said one of the Knights of Idleness. "Max hasn't an enemy in Issoudun," said another. "Besides, Max recognized the painter," said the Rabouilleuse. "Where's that cursed Parisian? Let us find him!" they all cried. "Find him?" was the answer, "why, he left Monsieur Hochon's at daybreak."
Hochon's eldest son was taken by the draft of 1813, which drew in the sons of well-to-do families who had escaped the regular conscription, and were now formed into a corps styled the "guards of honor."
In Monsieur Hochon's household the name of first breakfast was given to a cup of milk and slice of bread and butter which was taken in bed, or when rising.
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