United States or Estonia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
According to some of our scientific brotherhood, among them Monsieur Blainville, the hair is really a dead matter expelled from that pouch, or crypt, which is filled with a species of pulp." "Then hair is what you might call threads of sweat!" cried Popinot, to whom Cesar promptly administered a little kick on his heels. Vauquelin smiled at Popinot's idea.
"And a friend of mine, madame," said the ex-perfumer. "For I, Celestin Crevel, foreman once to old Cesar Birotteau, brought up the said Cesar Birotteau's stock; and he was Popinot's father-in-law.
"My dear and beloved master!" he cried, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "here is what you asked of me!" He held out the notes. "Yes, I have carefully examined my situation; you need have no fear, I shall be able to pay them. Save save your honor!" "I was sure of him!" cried Cesarine, seizing Popinot's hand, and pressing it with convulsive force.
He might hope to get into the Chamber through "his line," and, with Popinot's influence, to take office under the Government. "Whom have I the honor of addressing?" inquired Gaudissart, looking magisterially at La Cibot. "I am M. Pons' confidential servant, sir." "Well, and how is the dear fellow?" "Ill, sir very ill." "The devil he is!
There were days when Pons, thinking upon Count Popinot's cook, would sigh aloud, "Ah, Sophie!" Any passer-by hearing the exclamation might have thought that the old man referred to a lost mistress; but his fancy dwelt upon something rarer, on a fat Rhine carp with a sauce, thin in the sauce-boat, creamy upon the palate, a sauce that deserved the Montyon prize!
Poulain went, you may be sure, to thank Count Popinot; but as Count Popinot's family physician was the celebrated Horace Bianchon, it was pretty clear that his chances of gaining a footing in that house were something of the slenderest.
She could not forgive the rich retail druggist, ex-president of the Commercial Court, for his successive elevations as deputy, member of the Government, count and peer of France. She could not forgive her father-in-law for putting himself forward instead of his eldest son as deputy of his arrondissement after Popinot's promotion to the peerage.
Popinot's inherited fortune was a thousand crowns a year. His wife, sister to M. Bianchon Senior, a doctor at Sancerre, had brought him about twice as much. She, dying five years since, had left her fortune to her husband.
There was no more firing... He tossed aside the empty weapon, made sure of Popinot's on his hip, approached one of the deadlights, placed a chair, climbed upon it, and with infinite pains managed to wriggle and squirm head and shoulders through the opening.
De Morbihan replied with a grunt of none too civil intonation, instructed the chauffeur "To Troyon's," and followed Lanyard into the car. "Courtesy!" he repeated, settling himself with a shake. "That makes nothing. If I regarded my own inclinations, I'd let you go to the devil as quick as Popinot's assassins could send you there!" "This is delightful!" Lanyard protested.
Word Of The Day