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Updated: May 15, 2025
Gradually under the flute's tuition Schmucke's childlike imagination acquired a certain amount of knowledge of the world; he could believe in the existence of that fabulous creature the lorette, the possibility of "marriages at the Thirteenth Arrondissement," the vagaries of the leading lady, and the contraband traffic carried on by box-openers.
Beneath all Gaudissart's vanity, beneath the fierce desire to succeed in life at all costs, to rise to the social level of his old friend Popinot, there lay a warm heart and a kindly nature. Wherefore he canceled his too hasty judgments and went over to Schmucke's side. "You shall have it all! But I will do better still, my dear Schmucke. Topinard is a good sort " "Yes.
"I think that no one, save God in heaven, can have any right to do good, and that is why all those who meddle in His work are so cruelly punished." The old artist's sarcasm was uttered with a supreme effort; he was trying, excellent creature, to quiet the dismay visible in Schmucke's face. "So I dink," Schmucke replied simply. Pons could not understand it.
The old musician fled down the staircase in haste; but he went slowly along the boulevards to his theatre, he turned in mechanically at the door, and mechanically he took his place and conducted the orchestra. In the interval he gave such random answers to Schmucke's questions, that his old friend dissembled his fear that Pons' mind had given way.
He had saved Pons' friend from a trap, by a stratagem from that world behind the scenes in which every one has more or less ready wit. And within himself he vowed to protect a musician in his orchestra from future snares set for his simple sincerity. "Do you see that little wretch?" said La Sauvage. "He is a kind of honest man that has a mind to poke his nose into M. Schmucke's affairs."
Poulain is the image of Providence on earth I will have no more to do with you. You must do as I tell you " "Yes, Montame Zipod, he vill do vat you dell him," put in Schmucke; "he vants to lif for his boor friend Schmucke's sake, I'll pe pound."
"Oh! quite properly," returned Wilhelm Schwab, taking Schmucke's quaint inquiry for a gibe, of which that perfect Christian was quite incapable. "Come, gentlemen, take your places!" called Pons, looking round at his little army, as the stage manager's bell rang for the overture. The piece was a dramatized fairy tale, a pantomime called The Devil's Betrothed, which ran for two hundred nights.
The man of ambitions by this time had reappeared; he saw the way to the Council of State lying straight before him. And Schmucke? He was busy buying flowers and cakes for Topinard's children, and went home almost joyously. "I am gifing die bresents . . ." he said, and he smiled. It was the first smile for three months, but any one who had seen Schmucke's face would have shuddered to see it there.
This time La Cibot tossed her head. "There, there, old lady," said Fraisier, with odious familiarity, "you will go a very long way! "You take me for a thief, I suppose?" "Come, now, mamma, you hold a receipt in M. Schmucke's hand which did not cost you much. Ah! you are in the confessional, my lady!
There was a pause. Pons was too weak to say more. La Cibot took the opportunity and tapped her head significantly. "Do not contradict him," she said to Schmucke; "it would kill him." Pons gazed into Schmucke's honest face. "And she says that you sent her " he continued. "Yes," Schmucke affirmed heroically. "It had to pe. Hush! let us safe your life.
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