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Updated: June 19, 2025
It was decided that Rougon should take the title of president of the Municipal Commission; Granoux was to be secretary; whilst, as for Roudier, he became commander-in-chief of the reorganised National Guard. They also swore to support each other against all opposition. However, Felicite, who had drawn near, abruptly inquired: "And Vuillet?" At this they looked at each other.
He rose, with his humble smile, and offered her a seat; his reddened eyelids blinking rather uneasily. But Felicite did not sit down; she roughly exclaimed: "I want the letter." At this Vuillet's eyes opened widely, with an expression of perfect innocence. "What letter, madame?" he asked. "The letter you received this morning for my husband. Come, Monsieur Vuillet, I'm in a hurry."
All at once, however, Rougon, who had seemed to be slumbering, jumped up, and sent for Vuillet. He had just remembered that he had not received the "Gazette." The bookseller made his appearance in a very bad humour. "Well!" Rougon asked him as he took him aside, "what about the article you promised me? I haven't seen the paper." "Is that what you disturbed me for?" Vuillet angrily retorted.
Whenever an old oil or almond dealer failed to get a hearing, amidst the clamour, for some plan by which he could save France if he were only a master, he took himself off to Eugene and shouted his marvellous suggestions in his ear. And Eugene gently nodded his head, as though delighted with the grand projects he was listening to. Vuillet, alone, regarded him with a suspicious eye.
"Let us go to dinner. They are waiting for us." When they arrived, the yellow drawing-room was resplendent. Felicite was all over the place. Everybody was there; Sicardot, Granoux, Roudier, Vuillet, the oil-dealers, the almond-dealers, the whole set. The marquis, however, had excused himself on the plea of rheumatism; and, besides, he was about to leave Plassans on a short trip.
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