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Updated: June 4, 2025
"I trust, Monsieur Rameau," said the Vicomte, as he and his guest were seated at the breakfast-table, "that you are not dissatisfied with the remuneration your eminent services in the journal have received." "The proprietor, whoever he be, has behaved most liberally," answered Rameau.
"I'm afraid it's a small part," she returned, "compared to yours." "Oh, I hold my end up, I guess." "I should think you'd be so worn out and sleepy you couldn't hold your head up!" "Who? ME? Not t'-night, m'little friend. I tuk MY sleep's aft'noon and let Rameau do the Sherlock a little while." She gazed upon him with unconcealed admiration.
Behind the rough-looking man were menacing faces. Rameau was not physically a coward very few Frenchmen are, still fewer Parisians; and still fewer no matter what their birthplace, the men whom we call vain the men who over-much covet distinction, and over-much dread reproach. "Why should I descend at your summons?" said Rameau, haughtily. "Bah! Coachman, drive on!"
"I do not know the name." "Father Gilbert or Father Rameau might know. Are these Angelots Catholics?" "There is only one little girl." "Oh!" a light broke over Madame's face. "I think I can recall an event. Husband, you know the little child the Bellestres had?" "I do not remember," shaking his head. "It was found queerly. They had a slave who became its nurse.
On leaving De Mauleon and regaining his coupe, Rameau felt at once bewildered and humbled, for he was not prepared for the tone of careless superiority which the Vicomte assumed over him. He had expected to be much complimented, and he comprehended vaguely that he had been somewhat snubbed.
He was generous, obliging, ready to talk to the humblest about anything, as long as they cared to talk to him. The notary, Maitre Rameau, was one of the first to take his part, attracted by his smiling loquacity. He said at a dinner, at the tax collector's house: "A man who speaks with such facility and who is always in good humor could not have such a crime on his conscience."
It gave satisfaction, and I learned from M. de Valmalette, maitre d'hotel to the king, and son-in-law to M. Mussard, my relation and friend, that the connoisseurs were highly satisfied with my work, and that the public had not distinguished it from that of Rameau. However, he and Madam de la Popliniere took measures to prevent any person from knowing I had any concern in the matter.
Savarin whispered to De Mauleon, "Shall we call in a professional nurse, or a soeur de charite?" De Mauleon replied, also in a whisper, "Somebody told me that the man had a mother." It was true Savarin had forgotten it. Rameau never mentioned his parents he was not proud of them.
Recent articles in the Sens Commun, written under the name of Pierre Firmin on the discussions on the vexed question of the plebiscite, had given umbrage to the Government, and Rameau had received an intimation that he, as editor, was responsible for the compositions of the contributors to the journal he edited; and that though, so long as Pierre Firmin had kept his caustic spirit within proper bounds, the Government had winked at the evasion of the law which required every political article in a journal to be signed by the real name of its author, it could do so no longer.
The keys, it seems, were very large, and were struck by blows of the fist. Let us leave erudition for art and primitive for perfected instruments. By the time of Sebastian Bach and Rameau the organ had taken on its grandiose character. The stops had multiplied and the organist called them by means of registers which he drew out or pushed back at will.
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