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Updated: May 2, 2025
Ducroy enquired politely. Lucy smiled brightly. "I? Why should I be, monsieur?" "I trust mademoiselle will permit me to commend her courage. But pardon! I have one last word for the ear of Captain Vauquelin." Lifting his hat, the Frenchman joined the group near the machine.
"Monsieur, do you mean to take these securities?" asked Celestin, showing him the notes of the umbrella-maker. "Yes; at six per cent, without commission. Wife, get my dressing things all ready; I am going to see Monsieur Vauquelin, you know why. A white cravat, of course." Birotteau gave a few orders to the clerks.
"Oh! in the next they say we shall be all alike, kings and cobblers." "Provided kings and cobblers lead a holy life here below," said Birotteau. "Is that your son?" asked Vauquelin, looking at little Popinot, who was amazed at not seeing anything extraordinary in the sanctum, where he expected to find monstrosities, gigantic engines, flying-machines, and material substances all alive.
But it was long before the distance eclipsed that admonitory finger of the Eiffel. Vauquelin manipulating the levers, the plane tilted its nose and swam higher and yet higher. The song of the motor dropped an octave to a richer tone. The speed was sensibly increased.
Birotteau, perfumer, did not know an iota of natural history, nor of chemistry. Though regarding Vauquelin as a great man, he thought him an exception, of about the same capacity as the retired grocer who summed up a discussion on the method of importing teas, by remarking with a knowing air, "There are but two ways: tea comes either by caravan, or by Havre."
Steadying himself with a splendid display of self-control and sheer courage, Captain Vauquelin concentrated upon the management of the biplane. The drone of its motor thickened again, its speed became greater, and the machine began to rise still higher, tracing a long, graceful curve.
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