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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Who is he?" asked Fraisier. "Oh! he is a nobody." "In business there is no such thing as a nobody." "Oh, he is employed at the theatre," said she; "his name is Topinard." "Good, Mme. Sauvage! Go on like this, and you shall have your tobacconist's shop." And Fraisier resumed his conversation with Mme. Cibot.
Do you see? Stay as you are you cannot do better." "Very good, monsieur le directeur," said Topinard, much distressed. And in this way Schmucke lost the protector sent to him by fate, the one creature that shed a tear for Pons, the poor super for whose return he looked on the morrow. Next morning poor Schmucke awoke to a sense of his great and heavy loss. He looked round the empty rooms.
"No, sir." "Are you on the lookout to better yourself somewhere else?" "No, sir " said Topinard, with a ghastly countenance. "Why, hang it all, your wife takes the first row of boxes out of respect to my predecessor, who came to grief; I gave you the job of cleaning the lamps in the wings in the daytime, and you put out the scores. And that is not all, either.
Fraisier told Villemot, "and I did not think it necessary to tear him away from business; he would have come too late, in any case. He is the next-of-kin; but as he has been disinherited, and M. Schmucke gets everything, I thought that if his legal representative were present it would be enough." Topinard lent an ear to this.
Lolotte had been a fine woman in her day; but the misfortunes of the previous management had told upon her to such an extent, that it had seemed to her to be both advisable and necessary to contract a stage-marriage with Topinard.
And with threats understood to the full upon either side, they separated. "Thank you, Remonencq!" said La Cibot; "it is very pleasant to a poor widow to find a champion." Towards ten o'clock that evening, Gaudissart sent for Topinard.
He fainted away. Sonet's agent and M. Sonet himself came to help Topinard to carry poor Schmucke into the marble-works hard by, where Mme. Sonet and Mme. Topinard stayed. He had seen Fraisier in conversation with Sonet's agent, and Fraisier, in his opinion, had gallows-bird written on his face. An hour later, towards half-past two o'clock, the poor, innocent German came to himself.
"One more flight!" Topinard had twice repeated since they reached the third floor. Schmucke, engulfed in his sorrow, did not so much as know whether he was going up or coming down. In another minute Topinard had opened the door; but before he appeared in his white workman's blouse Mme. Topinard's voice rang from the kitchen: "There, there! children, be quiet! here comes papa!"
"Who is he?" asked Fraisier. "Oh! he is a nobody." "In business there is no such thing as a nobody." "Oh, he is employed at the theatre," said she; "his name is Topinard." "Good, Mme. Sauvage! Go on like this, and you shall have your tobacconist's shop." And Fraisier resumed his conversation with Mme. Cibot.
From this bare outline, it may be imagined that the Topinards, to use the hackneyed formula, were "poor but honest." Topinard himself was verging on forty; Mme. Topinard, once leader of a chorus mistress, too, it was said, of Gaudissart's predecessor, was certainly thirty years old.
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