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"We hold him and the Abbe Mouchon, too, just as I hold Soudry," said the queen, stroking her husband's chin; "you are not unhappy, dearest, are you?" she said to Soudry. "If I can plan a scandal against that Tartufe of a Brossette we can win," said Rigou, in a low voice. "But I am not sure if the local spirit can succeed against the Church spirit. You don't realize what that is.
The number of electors which this rich valley sent to the electoral college was sufficient to insure, if only through private dealing, the constant appointment of Monsieur de Ronquerolles, the patron of the Mouchon family. The voters of Ville-aux-Fayes lent their support to the prefect, on condition that the Marquis de Ronquerolles was maintained in the college.
He has none, but he has a broken leg, "due to a torpedo." The orderly cuts open his trouser, and I tell him to take off the boot. Mouchon puts out his hand, and says diffidently: "Never mind the boot." "But, my good fellow, we can't dress your leg without taking off your boot." Then Mouchon, red and confused, objects: "But if you take off the boot, I'm afraid my foot will smell...."
In 1796, at the time of his marriage with the citoyenne Isaure Mouchon, daughter of an old "conventional," a friend of his father, Gaubertin possessed about three hundred and fifty thousand francs in money.
He reprimanded the virtuous Mouchon, that representative of the people whose virtue was nothing more nor less than incapacity, as it is with so many other legislators who, gorged with the greatest political resources that any nation ever gave, armed with the whole force of a people, are still unable to bring forth from them the grandeur which Richelieu wrung for France out of the weakness of a king.
"He's a middle class man, that's evident from his linen. He's married there's a wedding-ring on his finger; he has a daughter, for the ends of his necktie are embroidered. He lives in the neighborhood, for, well dressed as he is, he wears a cap. But what was he doing there in that back room in the dark?" Meanwhile M. Mouchon had finished reading the letter.
Monseigneur the bishop paid the greatest attention to the Abbe Mouchon, who was always spoken of as the venerable curate of Ville-aux-Fayes; and the fact that he had several times refused to go and live in a splendid parsonage attached to the Prefecture, where Monseigneur wished to settle him, made him dearer still to his people.
Arsene and her aunt searched more than a week for them; then they stopped searching and managed to do without them, the old abbe blowing his fire with an air-cane made in the days when air-canes were the fashion, a fashion which was no doubt introduced by some courtier of the reign of Henri III. At last, about a month before her death, the housekeeper, after a dinner at which the Abbe Mouchon, the Niseron family, and the curate of Soulanges were present, returned to her jeremiades about the loss of the bellows.
But M. Mouchon could not read without his spectacles, and he lost at least two minutes in searching his pockets before he found them. And when they were adjusted, the light was so dim that it took him at least three minutes more to decipher the missive. Chupin had spent this time in scrutinizing in appraising the man, as it were. "What is this venerable gentleman doing here?" he thought.
In 1793 there were three brothers of the name of Mouchon in the valley of the Avonne. After 1793 they changed the name of the valley to that of the Valley des Aigues, out of hatred to the old nobility. The eldest brother, steward of the property of the Ronquerolles family, was elected deputy of the department to the Convention.
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