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Updated: May 15, 2025
On the other, the advance of the Polish Lancers, of the carts and wagons wherein are crowded the soldiers of the Old Guard, and Napoleon himself, the great gambler, sitting in his coach gazing out through the open windows at the fair land of France, the peaceful valley on his left, the chain of ice-covered lakes and the turbulent Drac; on his right beyond the hills frowning Taillefer, snow-capped and pine-clad, and far ahead Grenoble still hidden from his view as the future too was still hidden the mysterious gate beyond which lay glory and an Empire or the ignominy of irretrievable failure.
"Were you not in the commissariat during the campaign of Wagram?" "Ah, true!" replied Taillefer, "I was there at that time." "You are mistaken," said my neighbor, returning to my side; "that's a good man." "Well," I cried, "before the end of this evening, I will hunt that murderer out of the slough in which he is hiding."
Instantly the young girl uttered a cry, ran to the door, and disappeared. This event produced a great sensation. The card-players paused. Every one questioned his neighbor. The murmur of voices swelled, and groups gathered. "Can Monsieur Taillefer be " I began. " dead?" said my sarcastic neighbor. "You would wear the gayest mourning, I fancy!" "But what has happened to him?"
The noble Taillefer with a poet's true sympathy cried, "Saxon, beware!" but the watchful Saxon needed not the warning. Before William's loud oath of wrath and surprise left his lips, the five shafts of the remaining archers fell as vainly as their predecessors against the nimble shield.
"Taillefer," she replied. "Do you feel ill?" I said to him, observing that this strange personage was turning pale. "Not at all," he said with a polite gesture of thanks. "I am listening," he added, with a nod to the guests, who were all simultaneously looking at him. "I have forgotten," said Monsieur Hermann, "the name of the other young man.
A charming movement of the head was her only answer. "Even if he were very poor?" Again the same mute answer. "What nonsense are you talking, you two?" exclaimed Mme. Vauquer. "Never mind," answered Eugene; "we understand each other." "So there is to be an engagement of marriage between M. le Chevalier Eugene de Rastignac and Mlle. Victorine Taillefer, is there?"
Nearer they came, till they looked in each other's eyes, and the battle was ready to begin. And now, from the van of the Norman host, rode a man of renown, the minstrel Taillefer. A gigantic man he was, singer, juggler, and champion combined.
Few men have the courage to invoke an evil, even when just or necessary, and men are silent or forgive a wrong from hatred of uproar or fear of some tragic ending. This introsusception of our souls and our sentiments created a mysterious struggle between Taillefer and myself. Since the first inquiry I had put to him during Monsieur Hermann's narrative, he had steadily avoided my eye.
Taillefer had soaked with tears, and flung it on to the chimney-piece. 'That is all right, he said. He held out his hands to raise his daughter, but she covered them with kisses, and he drew them away again. Scandalous, isn't it? And his great booby of a son came in and took no notice of his sister." "What inhuman wretches they must be!" said Father Goriot.
"You have sent some snuff into my eye," he said to his neighbor, turning a little aside to rub his hand over his face. "Any one who molests Father Goriot will have henceforward to reckon with me," said Eugene, looking at the old man's neighbor; "he is worth all the rest of us put together. I am not speaking of the ladies," he added, turning in the direction of Mlle. Taillefer.
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