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Updated: June 2, 2025
When the little one, frightened by her mute white visage, began to cry, she seemed perplexed by what she had done, and quickly put him down upon the floor without even kissing him. Perhaps she recognised in him a faint resemblance to Macquart the poacher. Silvere grew up, ever tete-a-tete with Adelaide.
"Ah! yes," sneered Macquart, stung to the quick. "You want me to work, eh! To let those beggars, the rich folk, continue to prey upon me. I should earn probably twenty sous a day, and ruin my constitution. It's worth while, isn't it?" "Everyone earns what he can," the young man replied. "Twenty sous are twenty sous; and it all helps in a home.
"But uncle," said Silvere, "you are not yet too old to work!" Macquart, coughing and stooping, shook his head mournfully, as if to say that he could not bear the least fatigue for any length of time. Just as his nephew was about to withdraw, he borrowed ten francs of him.
Why, they will shoot them in the lowest dungeons of the prison, of course," replied Macquart, with a hoarse laugh. And as the young man, stupefied with horror, looked at him without knowing what to say: "This will not be the first lot to be assassinated there," he continued. "You need only go and prowl about the Palais de Justice of an evening to hear the shots and groans." "Oh, the wretches!"
Every political party numbers its grotesques and its villains. Antoine Macquart, devoured by envy and hatred, and meditating revenge against society in general, welcomed the Republic as a happy era when he would be allowed to fill his pockets from his neighbour's cash-box, and even strangle the neighbour if the latter manifested any displeasure.
Jean would go to bed to avoid his father's recriminations. He had but little sympathy with Silvere; politics bored him, and he thought his cousin "cracked." When only the women remained, if they unfortunately started some whispered converse after clearing the table, Macquart would cry: "Now, you idlers! Is there nothing that requires mending? we're all in rags.
He felt the soft seat of the arm-chair yield beneath him, while with a mechanical movement he caressed the mahogany writing-table with his hands, finding it apparently quite silky and delicate, like the skin of a beautiful woman. Then he spread himself out, and assumed the dignified attitude which Macquart had previously affected while listening to the proclamation.
"Well," he resumed, "but you want to spread consternation among the inhabitants! They would take me seriously, if what I told you should occur." Then perfecting his scheme, he cried: "We might employ Macquart. That would be a means of getting rid of him." Felicite seemed to be struck with the idea. She reflected, seemed to hesitate, and then, in a distressful tone faltered: "Perhaps you are right.
And the doctor ended by saying that although the boy's intelligence had been sluggish, he still hoped that it would develop in an environment of quicker mental activity. They arrived at the asylum and Macquart, who had been listening to the doctor, descended from his seat, saying: "He is a gentle little fellow, a very gentle little fellow! And then, he is so beautiful an angel!"
Then she remembered that she had not answered the involuntary accusation made against her by her son at the notary's; and she spoke again of Macquart, through bravado: "You see now that servants are of no use. There was one here, and yet she prevented nothing; it would have been useless for Uncle Macquart to have had one to take care of him; he would be in ashes now, all the same."
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