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Updated: June 24, 2025
They dragged Plon out of his mattress, and made him climb the stairs, panting and protesting. When they reached the top garret, Marie was sitting in the darkness, with her arms on the poor table; she did not move as they entered. "Bring in the lantern!" shouted the sergeant. "Now, good woman, who have you got hiding here?" She turned a white face upon him, speechless.
Does it hurt?" "Hurt! Of course it does." "Let me see," he said coming over. But Marie hastily bound a bit of rag round her hand. "The great thing is to exclude the air," she said quickly. "Then you mean to be on the lookout for these grand robbers, M. Plon?" "Yes, instead of idling away my time up here," he said, rolling towards the door. "But you women dearly love a little gossip, don't you?
"Now what possible good could it do to you? It is extraordinary that people women especially can't be contented, but must always be wishing for what they haven't got." "I was only thinking," Marie answered apologetically. "Then don't think. Women should leave that to others," Having delivered which sententious maxim, M. Plon rose with some difficulty from his chair, and gazed round the room.
Although Germany's young crown prince has until now been more or less of a stranger to court functions and gaieties at Berlin, his time being absorbed by his studies at the military academy of Plön, and his holidays spent in travel and Alpine expeditions, yet, as he is about to celebrate his majority, and has passed from the stages of boyhood to those of manhood, he will be from henceforth a personage of the utmost importance second only in rank to the emperor.
"Apparently," said the other, glancing at them, "Madame herself is not averse from that opinion." "Her husband hee, hee!" said M. Plon, getting red. "Poor Jean, who was shot in émeute three years ago! See there, monsieur, it is ridiculous!
And though you are not the best of managers, Madame Didier, no one can say you don't work with industry. So keep a good heart. You shall hear if I get the reward." As the sound of his heavy footsteps creaked down the stairs, Jean came out and flung himself on the chair which M. Plon had occupied. "Now that that old idiot has taken himself off, let's see what he was talking about."
Perhaps with this fear, the more credit was due to him for occasionally running the risk, as when he saw young Monnier, the artist, coming down the stairs one evening with a look in his eyes, which Plon told himself gave him an immediate shuddering back-sensation, as of cold water and marble slabs.
But Périne was past all control, she screamed for "Mother!" for "M. Plon!" until it seemed to Jean that not only the house but the whole neighbourhood would presently be on him. He tried coaxing, he tried menace, but Périne shrieked the more. "Will you hold your tongue!" he cried, with a wild thought of strangling her. "I'm a friend, I'm not the man; I won't touch you.
The Council of State served only to give form to the decrees emanating from him; he ruled even in petty details. In VI volumes, Librarie Plon, Paris 1893. Vol I. chap. IX. and X. pp. 225-268. Having received the broad ribbon of the Legion d'Honneur, he exclaimed, at the height of his enthusiasm: "what will not France become under such a man?
"M. Plon, I implore you to have pity! wait until my wife arrives; you will believe her if you can't believe your own eyes. Lock me into the room, do whatever you like only wait!" If M. Plon had indeed had sufficient calmness to contemplate the figure before him, it is probable that in spite of alteration he would have found something to recognise.
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