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Updated: May 14, 2025
"It is nine months since you have been thinking of lending me a paltry fifteen thousand francs to buy Lecoeur's practice, and you expect me to trust you now! Nonsense; you'll lose your uncle's property, and serve you right."
"Monsieur Bongrand," said Goupil, addressing the justice of peace. "I shall negotiate to-night for Lecoeur's practice; I hope the reparation I have now made will not injure me with you, and that you will back my petition to the bar and the ministry." Bongrand made a thoughtful inclination of his head; and Goupil left the house to negotiate on the best terms he could for the sheriff's practice.
"It if were only a matter of fifteen thousand francs and Lecoeur's practice, that might be managed," said Zelie; "but to give security for you in a hundred and fifty thousand is another thing." "But I'll do my part," said Goupil, flinging a seductive look at Zelie, which encountered the imperious glance of the post mistress. The effect was that of venom on steel. "We can wait," said Zelie.
With a slight tap of her hand she settled her cap on her head again, and made her way up the steps, at her niece's heels, anxiously repeating: "Do you really think that she'll have gone away?" She was reassured, however, on catching sight of Mademoiselle Saget amidst the cheeses. The old maid had taken good care not to go away before Madame Lecoeur's arrival.
In the butter pavilion a neighbour of Madame Lecoeur's told them that she was below in the cellar; and so, whilst La Sarriette went down to find her, the old maid installed herself amidst the cheeses. The cellar under the butter market is a very gloomy spot.
They lived together on the third storey of a large house in the Rue Vauvilliers, on the ground floor of which was a disreputable cafe. Madame Lecoeur's acerbity of temper was brought to a pitch by what she called La Sarriette's ingratitude, and she spoke of the girl in the most violent and abusive language.
"I won't be more than a minute, my dear." Then she again plunged her arms into the butter, which buried them up to the elbows. Previously softened in warm water, it covered Madame Lecoeur's parchment-like skin as with an oily film, and threw the big purple veins that streaked her flesh into strong relief.
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