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Updated: June 17, 2025
"So you think, do you?" replied Sauviat. "You wouldn't get off under forty crowns a year, I can tell you that. Why, her room, she has at least a hundred crowns' worth of furniture in it! But when a man has but one child, he doesn't mind. The little we own will all go to her." "The little! Why, you must be rich, pere Sauviat!
"My dear," said Madame Sauviat, helping her daughter to dismount, "you must be very tired." "No, mother," replied Madame Graslin, in so changed a voice that Madame Sauviat looked closely at her and then saw the mark of tears. Madame Graslin went to her own rooms with Aline, who took her orders for all that concerned her personal life.
Had you not better hasten Monsieur Grossetete?" Insensibly, Monsieur Bonnet, who at first did all the talking, led Madame Graslin to join in the conversation and so distract her thoughts; in fact, he left her almost recovered from the emotions of the day. Madame Sauviat, however, thought her daughter too violently agitated to be left alone, and she spent the night in her room.
Monsieur Ruffin, whose eyes were on Madame Graslin as she came toward them, now looked at Madame Sauviat, and was powerfully struck by the aspect of that old head, like that of a Roman matron, petrified with grief and moistened with tears. "Madame, why did you not prevent her from coming out?" said the tutor to the old mother, august and sacred in her silent grief.
The sober, toilsome life of these persons was brightened by one joy, but that was a natural joy, and for it they made their only known outlays. In May, 1802, Madame Sauviat gave birth to a daughter. She was confined all alone, and went about her household work five days later.
Ah! how many times must God strike me?" she cried. She stopped, as if to say a mental prayer; then she returned to Madame Sauviat and said in a low voice: "My dear mother, be kind and gentle to Monsieur de Grandville." The old woman clasped her hands with a feverish shudder. "There is no longer any hope," she said, seizing the rector's hand.
It is pretty nigh forty years that you have been doing a business in which there are no losses." "Ha! I sha'n't go to the poorhouse for want of a thousand francs or so!" replied the old-iron dealer. From the day when Veronique lost the soft beauty which made her girlish face the admiration of all who saw it, Pere Sauviat redoubled in activity.
When Champagnac died the Sauviats made no inventory of his property; but they rummaged, with the intelligence of rats, into every nook and corner of the old man's house, left it as naked as a corpse, and sold the wares it contained in their own shop. Once a year, in December, Sauviat went to Paris in one of the public conveyances.
La Farrabesche stopped short, horrified at the change so suddenly wrought in her mistress, whose face seemed to her almost distorted. "Good God, madame!" she cried, "what harm that girl has done! If we had only foreseen it, Farrabesche and I, we would never have taken her in. She has just heard that madame is ill, and sends me to tell Madame Sauviat she wants to speak to her."
Before paying out the money absolutely needed for their daily subsistence, Madame Sauviat would feel in the two pockets hidden between her gown and petticoat, and bring forth a single well-scraped coin, a crown of six francs, or perhaps a piece of fifty-five sous, which she would gaze at for a long time before she could bring herself to change it.
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