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Updated: June 9, 2025
Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had made the private secretary of his own minister say a word.
"What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?" "Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret, a secret of life and death." "It doesn't concern politics?" "If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. "No, it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely silent." "Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession.
<b>THEVENIN, MARIE ANNE ROSALIE.</b> Medals at the Salons of 1849, 1859, 1861. Born at Lyons. Pupil of Leon Cogniet. Portrait and figure painter. Among her pictures the following are noticeable: "Flora McIvor and Rose Bradwardine," 1848; "Portrait of Abbé Jacquet," 1859; "Portrait of a Lady," 1861.
Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the conversations, the witty speeches, and arguments which his sorrow had furnished to the tongues of Paris. The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed to a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the public highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question belonging to that department.
When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six chapels and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the Church intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. Then, each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur Desmarets took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot.
When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At this moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at Jules. The two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and comprehended each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an instant in the eyes of Ferragus.
Monsieur," he continued, after consulting a plan of the cemetery, "Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, between Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery " "Monsieur," said Jacquet, interrupting him, "that does not help us."
I do not so much as ask thee to make them give me back what a thief hath robbed me of, a thief by name Jacquet Coque-douille, one of the most honoured citizens of this thy town of Le Puy. No, all I ask of thee is not to let me die of hunger. And if thou grant me this boon, I will indite a full and fair history of thine holy image here present." So prayed Florent Guillaume.
Jules returned, horrified by the sight; the sound of the hammers the men were using made him mechanically burst into tears. "Jacquet," he said, "out of this dreadful night one idea has come to me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her, to gather her ashes and keep her with me.
"What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?" "Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret, a secret of life and death." "It doesn't concern politics?" "If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. "No, it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely silent." "Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession.
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