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Updated: April 30, 2025
Perhaps she did not know herself. Every morning she went to a printing office, No. 3 Rue du Sabot, where she was a folder and stitcher. She was obliged to be there at six o'clock in the morning long before daylight in winter. In the same building with the printing office there was a school, and to this school she took her little boy, who was seven years old.
To say that if I had to choose between them and God, I could not be sure. To say that if I had to lose a hundred francs for the love of God, I could not say about that. But I love him well, for sure, I love him all the same." The priest said gravely "You must love Him more than all besides." And Sabot, meaning well, declared "I will do what I possibly can, m'sieu le cure."
"Sorry to disturb monsieur, but the horses must be fed." "Oh, I am obliged to you," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I must go up to M. le Comte." "He has been himself to look at you, and gave orders you were not to be disturbed. But that was last week. Dame! you slept like a sabot." It did not take me long to brush the straw off me, wash my face at the trough, and present myself before monsieur.
What I reproach Millet with is that it is always the same thing, the same peasant, the same sabot, the same sentiment. You must admit that it is somewhat stereotyped. What does that matter; what is more stereotyped than Japanese art? But that does not prevent it from being always beautiful. People talk of Manet's originality; that is just what I can't see.
This feeling was with him no affectation, but the deliberate, final conclusion of his life he reverenced the sabot and the blouse, the implements of tillage and work, as the Greek did his gods and the implements of war and glory; he saw humanity reduced to its simplest and most noble physical functions and possibilities, as the Greek did the perfection of the physical form, but he lacked the perception of the types of pure beauty of the Greek.
And in all this generalisation of interest, we never miss those small humanities that are at the opposite pole of excellence in art; and while we admire the intellect that could see life thus largely, we are touched with another sentiment for the tender heart that slipped the piece of gold into Cosette's sabot, that was virginally troubled at the fluttering of her dress in the spring wind, or put the blind girl beside the deformity of the laughing man.
The advance was extremely rapid on the left over 2,000 yards in less than an hour, in the center over 3,000 yards in forty-five minutes. At 10 a. m. the French had reached the farm of Navarin. Toward the east the forward march was more difficult. Some German machine guns stood their ground in the wood of Sabot and enormously strengthened the German resistance.
"Have you ever loved anything, or anybody, as well as you loved God? Have you loved him with all your soul, all your heart, all the strength of your love?" Sabot was perspiring with the effort of thinking. He replied: "No. Oh, no, m'sieu le cure. I love God as much as I can. That is yes I love him very much. To say that I do not love my children, no I cannot say that.
Theodule Sabot was not laughing. When he went through the village the following morning, the neighbors, friends and enemies, all asked him, jokingly: "Are you going to do the work on the chancel of the church?" He could find nothing to say, but he was furious, he was good and angry.
He appeared radiant and greeted him with a good-natured laugh. "Well, here we are! Come in, come in, Monsieur Sabot, no one will eat you." And Sabot preceded him into the house. He faltered: "If you do not mind I should like to get through with this little matter at once." The cure replied: "I am at your service. I have my surplice here. One minute and I will listen to you."
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