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Updated: June 10, 2025
It was the curé who knew well a certain dozen of rare burgundy that had lain snug beneath the stairs of Madame Vinet's small café a vintage the good soul had come into possession of the first year of her own marriage and which she ceded to me for the ridiculously low price of twenty sous the bottle, precisely what it had cost her in her youth. It is over, and I am alone by my fire.
This good young man, rather heavy but full of capacity, the son of a physician in Provins, owed his place to Vinet's father, who was long a lawyer in Provins and still continued to be the patron of his people as the Comte de Gondreville was the patron of the people of Arcis. "What is that?" asked the sub-prefect.
Yesterday, I thought, as you do, that I was the man to defend you. To-day, I see that you had better take the legal luminary, because, with Vinet's antagonism against you the affair is taking such proportions that whoever defends it assumes a fearful responsibility." "I understand," said Thuillier, sarcastically.
"I am advocate for the poor, and I plead only before the justice of peace," replied la Peyrade. Mademoiselle Thuillier, as she listened to young Vinet's theory of the necessity of spending an income, assumed a distant air and manner, the significance of which was well understood by Dutocq and the young Provencal.
He was all I had left. It is not gay, monsieur, at eighty-four to lose one's last friend to have him poisoned." "Who poisoned him?" I inquired hotly "was it Bonvin the butcher? They say it was he poisoned both of Madame Vinet's cats."
To tell you the truth between ourselves, I should not wish to have children." Sylvie's face was an open book to the colonel during this tirade, and her next question proved to him Vinet's perfidy. "Then you don't love Pierrette?" she said. "Heavens! are you out of your mind, my dear Sylvie?" he cried. "Can those who have no teeth crack nuts?
But there is a short cut to the marsh if you do but know it one that has served me before. You can easily find it, for you have but to follow your nose along the wall of Madame Vinet's café, creep past the modest rose-garden of the mayor, zigzag for a hundred paces or more among crumbling walls, and before you know it you are out on the marsh. The one with the blue eye was right.
"That's exactly what Monsieur Thuillier was saying to me this morning," remarked la Peyrade, boldly. "Vinet's father," said Dutocq, "married a Demoiselle de Chargeboeuf and has caught the opinions of the nobility; he wants a fortune at any price; his wife spends money regally."
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