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Updated: August 14, 2024
She has dug a bit out of your cheek! They all burst out laughing anew, while Jory, in his turn, reddened. In fact, his face was scratched: there were even two deep gashes across it. During the six months that they had been camping together in a shady hotel of the Quartier Latin, the girl had almost flayed him alive each time she caught him paying attention to anybody else of her sex.
They all grew excited, their eyes opened wide with desire. Was it not glory herself that swept from the summit of that avenue over the whole capital? Paris was there, and they longed to make her theirs. 'Well, we'll take her one day, said Sandoz, with his obstinate air. 'To be sure we shall, said Mahoudeau and Jory in the simplest manner.
His worry of the morning had only left a vague numbness behind, and he now once more began to discuss his picture with Sandoz and Mahoudeau, swearing, it is true, that he would destroy it the next day. Jory, who was very short-sighted, stared at all the elderly ladies he met, and aired his theories on artistic work.
Have I any debts, I who have always starved? answered Mahoudeau in a roughly arrogant tone. 'Ought a fellow to build himself a palace and spend money on creatures like that Irma Becot, who's ruining Fagerolles? At this Jory grew angry, while the others jested, and Irma's name went flying over the table.
'Are you going anywhere particular? asked Sandoz of Mahoudeau and Jory. 'No, answered the latter, 'we are going with you. Where are you going? Claude, gazing carelessly about him, muttered: 'I don't know. That way, if you like. They turned on to the Quai d'Orsay, and went as far as the Pont de la Concorde.
In fact, they all went into raptures over it, especially Jory and Mahoudeau, who declared they had never tasted anything better at Marseilles; so much so, that the young wife, delighted and still flushed with the heat of the kitchen, her ladle in her hand, had all she could do to refill the plates held out to her; and, indeed, she rose up and ran in person to the kitchen to fetch the remains of the soup, for the servant-girl was losing her wits.
Only, of an evening, he had to relate how he had spent his time during the day, and if the employment of a single hour remained suspicious, if he did not bring home all the money he had received, down to the odd coppers, she led him the most abominable life imaginable. This, of course, Jory left unmentioned.
And the prices continue to go up, and painting degenerates into something shady, a kind of gold mine situated on the heights of Montmartre, promoted by a number of bankers, and around which there is a constant battle of bank-notes. Claude was growing indignant, but Jory thought it all very clever, when there came a knock at the door. Bongrand, who went to open it, uttered a cry of surprise.
He benefited by all the hatred that folks had against them; his pictures, of a softened, attenuated style, were held up in praise, so as to deal the death-blow to their ever obstinately violent works. 'Have you read Vernier's article? asked Jory of Gagniere. 'Doesn't he say exactly what I said?
Dubuche was going to dine out; Fagerolles had an appointment; in vain did Jory, Mahoudeau, and Gagniere try to drag Claude to Foucart's, a twenty-five sous' restaurant; Sandoz was already taking him away on his arm, feeling anxious at seeing him so excited. 'Come along, I promised my mother to be back for dinner. You'll take a bit with us. It will be nice; we'll finish the day together.
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