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Updated: May 19, 2025
"My mother and I are passing through a bitter trial. She is ill, I may say seriously ill. I would sooner bear the illness than my present anxiety. "Your friend, "P. S. Just as I was about to fasten up this letter, I got a note from Madame Plumet to tell me that Monsieur and Mademoiselle Charnot have left Paris. She does not know where they have gone."
The little dressmaker told me that she was engaged to M. Plumet, frame-maker. She told her tale very clearly; a little money put by, you see, out of ten years' wages; one may be careful and yet be taken in; and, alas! all has been lent to a cousin in the cabinetmaking trade, who wanted to set up shop; and now he refuses to pay up. The dowry is in danger, and the marriage in suspense.
She withdraws in a hurry, 'with her heart in her mouth, as she says; the plot she has formed is about to succeed or fail, the critical moment is at hand; the visitor is her enemy, your rival Dufilleul. "He is full of self-confidence and comes in plump and flourishing, with light gloves, and a terrier at his heels. "'My portrait framed, Plumet? "'Yes, my lord-yes, to be sure. "'Let's see it.
So on his return to the Rue Plumet, Victorin could carry out his plan of lodging his mother and sister under his roof. The young lawyer, already famous, had, for his sole fortune, one of the handsomest houses in Paris, purchased in 1834 in preparation for his marriage, situated on the boulevard between the Rue de la Paix and the Rue Louis-le-Grand.
The Rhone leaps and eddies, singing over its gravel beds. Two trout-fishers are taxing all their strength to pull a boat up stream beneath the shelter of the bank. Perhaps I was wrong in not waiting to hear what M. Plumet had to tell me. He is not the kind of man to gesticulate wildly without good reason. The steamer is gaining the open water and Geneva already lies far behind.
Monsieur Plumet looks very stiff, very unhappy, and very nervous. He evidently wants to get his customer off the premises. "The rustling of skirts is heard on the staircase. Plumet turns pale, and glancing at the half-opened door, through which the terrier is pushing its nose, steps forward to close it. It is too late.
"She must have been pleased! The drawing was so pretty. Plumet, who is not much of a talker, is never tired of praising it. I tell you, he and I did not spare ourselves. He made a bit of a fuss before he would take the order; he was in a hurry such a hurry; but when he saw that I was bent on it he gave in. And it is not the first time he has given in. Plumet is a good soul, Monsieur Mouillard.
And she went on: "This is what I call being good: being nice and coming and living here, there are birds here as there are in the Rue Plumet, living with us, quitting that hole of a Rue de l'Homme Arme, not giving us riddles to guess, being like all the rest of the world, dining with us, breakfasting with us, being my father." He loosed her hands.
"What, Monsieur Lampron, do you know Monsieur Mouillard?" "As you apparently do, too, Madame Plumet." "Oh, yes! I know him well; he won my action, you know." "Ah, to be sure-against the cabinet-maker. Is your husband in?" "Yes, sir, in the workshop. Plumet!"
So much the worse, I must finish it: "I will try to reconstruct the scene for you, from the details which I have gathered. "The time is a quarter to ten in the morning. There is a knock at Monsieur Plumet's door. The door opposite is opened half-way and Madame Plumet looks out.
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