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Updated: May 22, 2025
Convinced that though this compliance would do no harm it could do no good, Madame Cardinal poured out half a glass, and while she gave it with one hand to the sick man, with the other she raised him to a sitting posture that he might drink it. With his fleshless, eager fingers Toupillier clutched the glass, emptied it at a gulp, and exclaimed:
In Paris, everything that is done for a purpose is thoroughly done. Would-be paupers are as clever at mounting their disguise as shopkeepers in preparing their show-windows, or sham rich men in obtaining credit. The floor had never been swept; the bricks had disappeared beneath layers of dirt, dust, dried mud, and any and every thing thrown down by Toupillier.
"Don't say a word about all this," said the widow, when she parted from the man who had given her the information. "I'll take care and remember you if anything comes of it." Toupillier, former drum-major in the French Guards, had been for the two years preceding 1789 in the service of the Church as beadle of Saint-Sulpice.
"No, Toupillier," said the little old man; "you have not been robbed; I came here in time to prevent it; nothing has been taken." "Why don't you arrest that villain?" shouted the old pauper, pointing to Cerizet. "Monsieur is not a thief," replied the old man. "On the contrary, he came up with me to lend assistance."
"Where is it, that wine?" demanded Toupillier, calming down a little at the thought that the fire was not burning at his expense. "It must come to a boil," said his nurse; "the doctor insisted upon that. Still, if you'll be good I'll give you half a glass of it cold, just to wet your whistle. I'll take that upon myself, but don't you tell the doctor." "Doctor!
Taken in hand by the law, Toupillier defended himself with such singular good-humor, being able to show that no proof whatever existed against him, that the examining judge let him off. He lost his place, however, as giver of holy water, obtaining, with great difficulty, permission to beg at the door of the church.
Catching sight at that moment of Toupillier, who was then the giver of holy water, 'My man, said he, making sure that no one overheard their colloquy, 'will you take care of this little package for me? It is a box of lace.
"I was manager of one of my newspapers at the time, and I used to write the 'Paris items. But stay, I remember, the actress who lost them was Mademoiselle Beaumesnil." "Precisely; the mother of Mademoiselle de la Peyrade." "Consequently, this miserable old Toupillier no, I remember that the thief was convicted; his name was Charles Crochard. "Well," said du Portail, "this is how it happened.
"Ah! that's a fine drop, that is! though you've watered it." "You mustn't say that, uncle; I went and bought it myself of Pere Legrelu, and I've given it you quite pure. But you let me simmer the rest; the doctor said I might then give you all you wanted." Toupillier resigned himself with a shrug of the shoulders.
The crackling of the wood and the heat, which soon spread about the room, brought Toupillier out of his stupor. Seeing the stove lighted he called out: "Who is making a fire here? Do you want to burn the house down?" "Why, uncle," said the Cardinal, "it is wood I bought with my own money, to warm your wine. The doctor doesn't want you to drink it cold."
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