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"Well," said Javert, "where is he?" The prisoner of the ruffians, M. Leblanc, M. Urbain Fabre, the father of Ursule or the Lark, had disappeared. The door was guarded, but the window was not.
Hamerton had prepared the "Etcher's Handbook" and its illustrations, and was writing a series of articles on the "Characters of Balzac" for the "Saturday Review." To save time I read to him "Le Pere Goriot," "Eugenie Grandet," "Ursule Mirouet," "Les Parents Pauvres," "La Cousine Bette," etc. Mr.
The latter, Antoine and Ursule, the young wolves as they were called in the district, were kept at home by Adelaide, who treated them as affectionately as her first child. She did not appear to entertain a very clear idea of the position in life reserved for these two poor creatures. To her they were the same in every respect as her first-born.
One beautiful creature as large as a swallow used to fly into our dining room every evening for warmth; fastening itself to the wall it would there remain undisturbed until the morning. I finish these reminiscences of Bourron by the following citation from Balzac's "Ursule Mirouet":
McLean's little women clamorously demanded and obtained a share of her attention, although Capua and Ursule, with their dark skins, brilliant dyes, and equivocal dialects, were creatures of a more absorbing interest. One afternoon, Marguerite came into the drawing-room by one door, as Mr.
In Nemours there are other less estimable branches of the Minoret stock, cousins of the Doctor's, whose hopes of inheriting his fortune are damped by the presence of little Ursule. Chief of these relatives is the burly postmaster, Minoret Levrault, whose son Desire is destined to the law and is sent by his parents to study in Paris.
But a leading incident of "Ursule Mirouet" occurs at Bourron a sufficient reason for recalling the story here. The beauty of our village, like the beauty of French women, to quote Michelet, "is made up of little nothings." There are a hundred and one pretty things to see but very few to describe. Who could wish it otherwise?
I placed Eagle by the fire and she sat there obediently, while I talked to Madame Ursule apart. "Was her mind in this state when she came to you?" "She was even a little wilder than she is now. The girls have been a benefit to her." "They were not afraid of her?" "Who could be afraid of the dear child? She is a lady that's plain. Ah, M's'r Williams, what she must have gone through!"
Even mother cares no longer touched her. Paul was grown. She could not be made anything that was base. Unseen forces had worked with her and would work with her still. "You told me," I said to Madame Ursule, "the Indians were afraid of her when they burned the settlement. Was the change so sudden?" "Madame Jordan's story was like this: It happened in broad daylight.
Come, dear child," said Madame Ursule, coaxing Eagle. "Nobody is there. The bedrooms can never be so warm as the log fire; and this is a bitter evening." The family room was unlighted by candles, as often happened. For such an illumination in the chimney must have quenched any paler glare. We had a few moments of brief privacy from the swarming life which constantly passed in and out.
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