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Updated: May 20, 2025
And so they were; the citoyenne Rochemaure proved tender-hearted and was melted to think of Évariste's and his mother's sufferings. She made plans to alleviate them; she had rich men amongst her friends and would get them to buy the artist's pictures. "The truth is," she added, with a smile, "there is still money in France, but it keeps in hiding."
His manners were always chivalrous towards women, even to those whose fascination for him had been blunted by long familiarity, as could hardly fail to be the case with Madame de Rochemaure, unless indeed he found her appetizing with the added seasoning of betrayal, absence, unfaithfulness and fat.
The Clerk of the Court came down to the cells to read the verdict, which was listened to with such silence and impassivity as made it a common comparison to liken the condemned of Prairial to trees marked down for felling. The citoyenne Rochemaure declared herself pregnant. A surgeon, who was likewise one of the jury, was directed to see her. She was carried out fainting to her dungeon.
They are very culpable, the men who, in the desperate situation we are in, have arrested the flowing torrent of popular justice!" "Henry," interrupted the citoyenne Rochemaure, "pass me that scent bottle, please...." On reaching home, Gamelin found his mother and old Brotteaux playing a game of piquet by the light of a smoky tallow-candle.
Louise Masché de Rochemaure, daughter of a Lieutenant of the King's Hunt, widow of a Procureur and, for twenty years, the faithful mistress of the financier Brotteaux des Ilettes, had fallen in with the new ideas. She was to be seen, in July, 1790, digging the soil of the Champ de Mars.
"This letter," resumed Guénot, "emanates from a ci-devant called Rochemaure, a woman of gallantry, at whose house they played biribi, and is addressed to one citoyen Rauline; but is really for an émigré in the service of Pitt. I have brought it with me to communicate to you the portion relating to this man des Ilettes." He drew the letter from his pocket.
Henry thought it might not break his heart perhaps to leave off loving Madame de Rochemaure; but he was piqued to have fallen in her good graces. He counted on her to meet sundry expenses in which the service of the Republic had involved him.
Maurice Brotteaux occupied the right-hand corner of the topmost row, the place of honour. He was dressed in his plum-coloured surtout, which he had brushed very carefully the day before and mended at the pocket where his little Lucretius had ended by fretting a hole. Beside him sat the woman Rochemaure, painted and powdered and patched, a brilliant and ghastly figure.
"It is quite simple: that you won't within the next ten minutes tell this wench that she is not at old Rochemaure's." "What do you take me for?" I answered, pulling my hat over my eyes. "Do you think that I am an idiot? Wait a minute; would you like me to go and get my grandmother's dress which is upstairs and pass myself off for this same lady of Rochemaure?" "A splendid idea!" replied Laurence.
Again he saw the jury-bench, the seat where he had been accustomed to loll, the place where he had terrorized unhappy prisoners, where he had affronted the scornful eyes of Jacques Maubel and Maurice Brotteaux, the appealing glances of the citoyenne Rochemaure, who had got him his post as juryman and whom he had recompensed with a sentence of death.
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