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He got me a tutor, and from that day out, for several years, my recollections are divided, to the exclusion of everything else, between my education and my life with my family. My tutor was called M. Trognon, and his name brought many a jest upon him, amongst others a line of Victor Hugo's in Ruy Bias about that Affreuse compagnonne, Dont la barbe fleurit et dont le nez trognonne.
When, in later years, the Abbe Dupanloup, then Vicar of the Church of the Assumption, was charged with the care of my religious education, he and Trognon became very intimate, and death alone interrupted the close communion then established between these two great minds. The first years of my education were very happy.
Albeit Cibot was dying, his wife came upstairs with the notary, brought him into the bedroom, and withdrew, leaving Schmucke and Pons with M. Trognon; but she left the door ajar, and went no further than the next room.
He lay, ghastly and wan, like a consumptive patient after a wrestling bout with the Destroyer. "In M. Schmucke's interests, you see, you would do well to send for M. Trognon; he is the notary of the quarter and a very good man," said La Cibot, seeing that her victim was completely exhausted. "You are always talking about this Trognon "
Yet M. Poulain's pensive air and uneasy eyes embarrassed Remonencq not a little, and at sight of the doctor he offered eagerly to go in search of M. Trognon, Fraisier's acquaintance. Fraisier turned to La Cibot to say in a low voice, "I shall come back again as soon as the will is made. In spite of your sorrow, you must look for squalls."
After bidding the tenderest farewell to my father and mother, my aunt, and my brothers and sisters, from whom I had never been parted before, I was packed into a post-chaise with Monsieur Trognon, and off we started. I was driven about, to Fourvieres, to La Croix- Rousse, and so forth, and had the best of receptions from their sturdy inhabitants.
Albeit Cibot was dying, his wife came upstairs with the notary, brought him into the bedroom, and withdrew, leaving Schmucke and Pons with M. Trognon; but she left the door ajar, and went no further than the next room.
Trognon went out and came upon Mme. Cibot in the salon. "Well, sir, did M. Pons remember me?" "You do not expect a notary to betray secrets confided to him, my dear," returned M. Trognon. "I can only tell you this there will be many disappointments, and some that are anxious after the money will be foiled. M. Pons has made a good and very sensible will, a patriotic will, which I highly approve."
Knowing that a will had been made, he had come to see how the land lay, for Maitre Trognon, notary, had refused to say a syllable Fraisier's questions were as fruitless as Mme. Cibot's. Naturally the ballet-girl's visit in extremis was not lost upon Fraisier; he vowed to himself that he would turn it to good account. "My dear Mme. Cibot," he began, "now is the critical moment for you."
Cibot, who left the door ajar and watched us closely while M. Trognon was here in a little while you will see her come for the will, as she believes it to be. . . . I expect the worthless creature will do her business this morning when she thinks you are asleep. Now, mind what I say, and carry out my instructions to the letter. . . . Are you listening?" asked the dying man.
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