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Madame Putois offered to retire because according to her it was not a matter to laugh about; besides she would not touch a thing, the food would do her no good. As to Boche, he chuckled. He would sooner be thirteen than fourteen; the portions would be larger, that was all. "Wait!" resumed Gervaise. "I can manage it."
To define them it is enough to say that they are written in M. Anatole France's prose. One sketch entitled "Riquet" may be found incorporated in the volume of Monsieur Bergeret a Paris. "Putois" is a remarkable little tale, significant, humorous, amusing, and symbolic.
When the other, a great long stick like me, saw the blood, she slipped away as quick as she could. And I coughed nearly all night. Besides that too, men are so stupid in bed, they don't let you have any covers over you half the time." "Pretty conduct that," murmured Madame Putois. "You're killing yourself, my girl." "And if it pleases me to kill myself! Life isn't so very amusing.
And she gave him a little push with her foot, whereat all the other women cried out. "He is not like most men," said Mme Putois; "they generally wish to beat you when they come in like this." Gervaise already regretted her momentary vexation and assisted her husband to his feet and then turned her cheek to him with a smile, but he put his arm round her and kissed her neck.
I cried: "Putois!" and he turned around. 'That is the method, said my father, 'that they employ to assure themselves of the identity of evil-doers that they are hunting for. 'I told you that it was he! I know how to find him, your Putois. Very well! He has a bad face. You had been very careless, you and your wife, to employ him.
The goose had been purchased, and Mme Coupeau brought it in that Mme Putois might guess its weight. The thing looked enormous, and the fat seemed to burst from its yellow skin. "Soup before that, of course," said Gervaise, "and we must have another dish." Clemence proposed rabbits, but Gervaise wanted something more distinguished. Mme Putois suggested a blanquette du veau. That was a new idea.
Madame Cornouiller heard her distrustfully; she suspected her of misleading, of removing Putois from inquiry, for fear of losing him or making him ask more. And she thought her too selfish. "Many judgments accepted by the world that history has sanctioned are as well founded as that." "That is true," said Pauline. "What is true?" asked Zoe, half asleep.
The gendarmes were called to Montplaisir, and their report confirmed the suspicions of Madame Cornouiller. Bands of marauders were ravaging the gardens of the countryside. But this time the robbery seemed to have been committed by one man, and with singular dexterity. No trace of anything broken, no footprints in the damp earth. The robber could be no one but Putois.
Tall Clemence made a dirty remark about every item that she touched. She commented on the customers' misfortunes and their bedroom adventures. She had a wash-house joke for every rip or stain that passed through her hands. Augustine pretended that she didn't understand, but her ears were wide open. Madame Putois compressed her lips, thinking it a disgrace to say such things in front of Coupeau.
She was irregular in her hours and often absented herself from the shop for several days together but was none the less vexed to discover that her old employee, Mme Putois, had been placed above her. Naturally at the end of the week Gervaise had little money coming to her. As to Coupeau, if he worked he brought no money home, and his wife had ceased to count upon it.
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