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Updated: July 16, 2025
She declared she did not understand and asked him to explain himself. "That aristocrat! that émigré! that scoundrel!" She shrugged her shoulders, and denied with the most natural air that she had never known a Jacques Maubel. It was true; she had never known anyone of the name.
She did not guess the object of her lover's question and she was a thousand miles from suspecting that this Maubel, whom she had never heard spoken of before, was to appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal; she could make nothing of the suspicions with which she was assailed, but she knew them to be unfounded.
The deputy of the Public Prosecutor read them, pulled a face and told Évariste: "It is not good for much, your new evidence! there is nothing in it! mere fiddle-faddle.... If only it was certain that this ci-devant Comte de Maubel ever really emigrated...!" In the end Gamelin succeeded.
Very well, then, let us put in place of the rue de la Chaise the waiting-room of the Gare Montparnasse. Sometimes it is quite empty. Well, that's done." He gummed the envelope and felt a kind of relief. "Ah! I was forgetting. Garçon! The Bottin de Paris." He searched for the name Maubel, thinking that by some chance it might be her own.
As he walked along he recapitulated what he knew of the woman. She was married, blonde, in easy circumstances because she had her own sleeping quarters and a maid. She lived in the neighbourhood, because she went to the rue Littré post-office for her mail. Her name, supposing she had prefixed her own initial to the name of Maubel, was Henriette, Hortense, Honorine, Hubertine, or Hélène. What else?
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