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Updated: June 28, 2025
Mademoiselle Servien, who sat by at the lesson knitting a stocking and for some moments had been watching the tutor, her spectacles pushed half-way up her forehead, with a look of amazement and suspicion, exclaimed, as if talking to herself: "If it isn't abominable to come to people's houses in drink!" Monsieur Tudesco did not seem to hear her. His manner was quiet and jocular again.
Nor did he fail to identify his case with the good of the Commune, by making out Gabrielle's lover to be a Bonapartist and an enemy of the people. Colonel Tudesco drew a note-book from his pocket, inscribed Bargemont's name and address in it, and cried: "If the man has not fled like a poltroon, we will make a hostage of him!
At this point, from one corner of the parlour, a crow of childish laughter went off like a rocket. Monsieur Tudesco stopped short and smiled, his hair flying, his eye moist, his arms thrown open as if to embrace and bless; then he resumed: "I say it: the laugh of innocence is the ill-starred veteran's joy.
The old lady approved his sentiments, and an exchange of petty confidences ensued. Tudesco knew a sovereign remedy for catarrh, and this too was well received. He redoubled his attentions, and the concierge, who saw him smiling to himself on the doorstep, told Aunt Servien: "The man's in love with you."
Of all things in the world he thought anything sordid the most repugnant. Monsieur Tudesco, feeling sure his brandy-cherries would be paid for, did not trouble himself to talk, and the conversation was languishing when the architect remarked casually: "By-the-by!
He could not see anything to capture a lover's fancy. "At any rate," he thought, "she does not look like a bad woman." Jean stepped over the bodies of two or three drunked National Guards and found himself in the room occupied by Colonel Tudesco and in that worthy's presence. The Colonel lay snoring on a satin sofa, a cold chicken on the table at his elbow. He wore his spurs.
But his fears were soon allayed; Colonel Tudesco was only a wind-bag, and could not really arrest people. Besides, was it credible that Bargemont, head of a Ministerial Department, was still in Paris? And after all, if he did come to harm, well, so much the worse for him! Two days after a cab with a musket barrel protruding from either window stopped before the bookbinder's shop.
Jean, seeing himself the centre of mocking glances and looks of annoyance, drew Tudesco towards the door. But just as the Marquis was making a series of sweeping bows by way of farewell to the ladies, Jean found himself face to face with the Superintendent of Studies, who said to him: "Oh! Monsieur Servien, will you go and take detention in Monsieur Schuver's absence?"
Do you profit, my young and very dear friend, by the experience afforded me by the vicissitudes of fortune, which are such that I am obliged at this present moment to borrow of you the modest sum of two and a half francs." So spake the Marquis Tudesco. Jean had trudged afoot up the hill of Bellevue. Evening was falling.
The Marquis Tudesco, after tweaking the son's ear amicably and bowing to the father with a dignified familiarity, walked away with a step that was still jaunty. The Marquis Tudesco returned in due course, smiled at Mademoiselle Servien, who darted poisonous looks at him, greeted the bookbinder with a discreet air of patronage, and had a supply of grammars and dictionaries bought.
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