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Updated: June 9, 2025
She married the Baron Tonnelier, whose father, although the son of a miller, had shown ability and honesty enough to fill high positions under the First Empire. The Baron Tonnelier had a large fortune, increasing every day by successful speculation. In his youth he had been a good horseman, a Voltairian, and a Liberal.
Without a single allusion to this fact, the Countess failed not to turn the thoughts of the General toward it with all the tact of an accomplished intrigante, with all the ardor of a mother, and with all the piety of an unctuous devotee. Her sister, the Baroness Tonnelier, bitterly confessed her own disadvantage. She was not a widow. And she had no son.
"Well, then, Mademoiselle, you have seen little of the world, but you have seen enough to judge and to be certain of the value of its esteem. The world! That is your family and mine: Monsieur and Madame Tonnelier, Monsieur and Madame de la Roche-Jugan, and the little Sigismund!"
Look, said he, at the absurd decoration showered on the savans of France, Baron Cuvier, for instance; and he fell into a passion, and, being a French scholar, sang forth, in a paroxysm of gout, this refrain: "Travaillez, travaillez, bon tonnelier, Racommodez, racommodez, ton Cuvier." And yet he was by no means an ignorant man was at heart a true John Bull, and had travelled and seen the world.
Consequently he was hunted by an eager pack of cousins and relatives; and Madame de la Roche-Jugan and the Baroness Tonnelier gave tongue in their foremost rank. Camors was indifferent, and had, since that event, been particularly reserved in his intercourse with the General.
Without a single allusion to this fact, the Countess failed not to turn the thoughts of the General toward it with all the tact of an accomplished intrigante, with all the ardor of a mother, and with all the piety of an unctuous devotee. Her sister, the Baroness Tonnelier, bitterly confessed her own disadvantage. She was not a widow. And she had no son.
His aunt de la Roche-Jugan and his uncle Tonnelier manifested toward him the cold circumspection of people who suspected they were dealing with a ruined man. They had even, for greater security, left Paris, and neglected to notify the young Count in what retreat they had chosen to hide their grief.
Thick masses of hair framed her sad but splendid brow; and she was badly, or rather poorly dressed, never condescending to wear the cast-off clothes of her relatives, but preferring gowns of simplest material made by her own hands. These draperies gave her the appearance of an antique statue. Her Tonnelier cousins nicknamed her "the goddess." They hated her; she despised them.
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