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Updated: June 19, 2025
"And cataloguing books, Monsieur Mouillard, looking through them, preserving them as far as possible from worms and readers. Don't you think that's an enviable lot?" "Yes, more so than mine has been, or my successor's will be." "By the way, uncle, you haven't told us who your successor is to be." "Haven't I, really? Why, you know him; it's your friend Larive." "Oh! That explains a great deal."
"And cataloguing books, Monsieur Mouillard, looking through them, preserving them as far as possible from worms and readers. Don't you think that's an enviable lot?" "Yes, more so than mine has been, or my successor's will be." "By the way, uncle, you haven't told us who your successor is to be." "Haven't I, really? Why, you know him; it's your friend Larive." "Oh! That explains a great deal."
My thoughts were so confused that I had no recollection of what had happened. The day passed; toward evening I heard the sound of instruments. It was the Sunday dance, and I asked Larive to go and see if Madame Pierson was there. He did not find her; I sent him to her house.
I had been expecting what she said; my resolution was soon taken, and I decided to go away. I arose, my heart bleeding but firm. I looked at the house, at her window; I opened the garden gate and placed my lips on the lock as I passed out. When I reached home, I told Larive to make what preparations were necessary as I would set out in the morning.
His mistress made him a sign as if to encourage him, but he looked at her with an air of anxiety; she then took the branch from my hand, and the goat promptly accepted it from hers. I bowed, and she passed on her way. On my return home I asked Larive if he knew who lived in the house I described to him; it was a small house, modest in appearance, with a garden.
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