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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Ah, Grognard!" said she, laughing, "thou art more vised to corn-brandy, with a clove of garlic in't, than to good curaçoa." "What, curaçoa! Mère Madou, hast got curaçoa there?" cried a gray-whiskered captain, as he turned on his saddle at the word. "Yes, mon capitaine, and such as no burgomaster ever drank better;" and she filled out a little glass, and presented it gracefully to him.
The confessor fastened the red ribbon to Cesar's buttonhole. The poor clerk looked at himself again and again during the evening in the mirrors of the salon, manifesting a joy at which people thinking themselves superior might have laughed, but which these good bourgeois thought quite natural. The next day Birotteau went to find Madame Madou. "Ah, there you are, good soul!" she cried.
You can learn something of courtly manners from the polished descendant of our nobility. Say, boy, art a count, or a baron, or perhaps a duke." "Make way there out of the road, Mère Madou," cried a dragoon, curveting his horse in such a fashion as almost to upset ass and "cantiniére" together, "the staff is coming."
After an hour's search, Birotteau, who was sent by the market-women to the Rue de Lombards where nuts for sugarplums were to be found, heard from his friend Matifat that the fruit in bulk was only to be had of a certain Madame Angelique Madou, living in the Rue Perrin-Gasselin, the sole establishment which kept the true filbert of Provence, and the veritable white hazel-nut of the Alps.
Cesar had become "that wretched Birotteau." The one seemed to them excused by his great passion; the other they considered all the more guilty for his harmless pretensions. Gigonnet, after leaving the Bourse, went round by the Rue Perrin-Gasselin on his way home, in search of Madame Madou, the vendor of dried fruits. "Well, old woman," he said, with his coarse good-humor, "how goes the business?"
"Thou'lt have a day in prison if thou'rt found here, Mère Madou," said a dragoon, as he struck the ass with the flat of his sabre. "I know it well," cried she, passionately; "but I have none to help me. Come here, lad; be good-natured, and forget what passed. Take his bridle while I whip him on."
Angelique Madou gathers, Monsieur Vauquelin extracts, we sell an essence. Nuts are worth five sous a pound, Monsieur Vauquelin will increase their value one hundredfold, and we shall, perhaps, do a service to humanity; for if vanity is the cause of the greatest torments of mankind, a good cosmetic becomes a benefaction."
She made a gesture as if to break the glass before the shelves on which the valuables were placed. "Mother Madou takes a drop too much," whispered Celestin to his neighbor. The virago overheard him, for in paroxysms of passion the organs are either paralyzed or trebly acute, and she forthwith applied to Celestin's ear the most vigorous blow that ever resounded in a Parisian perfumery.
The rest of the money is with Crottat, ready for Lourdois, Madame Madou, the mason, carpenter, and the other most pressing creditors. Next year, we may do as well. With time and patience we can go far." Birotteau's joy is not to be described; he threw himself into his uncle's arms, weeping. "May he not wear his cross?" said Ragon to the Abbe Loraux.
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