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Updated: June 8, 2025
In the days when Madame Caille was unmarried, and when her ninety kilos were fifty still, Abel had been youngest commis in the very shop over which she now held sway, and the most devoted suitor in all her train.
And Madame Caille would challenge him to ask her that but it was a good, great beast all the same! and so bury herself again in her accounts, until her attention was once more drawn to Zut, and fresh flattery poured forth. For all of this Zut cared less than nothing.
From this moment I abandoned the classes of the central school, where I was taught to admire Corneille, Racine, La Fontaine, Molière, and attended only the mathematical course. This course was entrusted to a retired ecclesiastic, the Abbé Verdier, a very respectable man, but whose knowledge went no further than the elementary course of La Caille.
In March 1699, Pierre Mêge, a marine, presented himself before M. de Vauvray, the intendant of marines at Toulon, and informed him that he was the son of M. de Caille, at the same time telling the following story.
Vasseur replied that he had set upon them and put them to utter rout. But as the chief, seeming as yet unsatisfied, continued his inquiries, the sergeant Francois de la Caille drew his sword, and, like Falstaff, reenacted his deeds of valor, pursuing and thrusting at the imaginary Thimagoas, as they fled before his fury.
Flique, his ruddy face screwed into a mere knot of features, as Hippolyte worked violet hair-tonic into his brittle locks, was moved to satire by the apparition. "Tiens! It is with the cat as with the clients. All the world forsakes the Caille."
His sentence was carried out in all its severity in 1560. Scipio Le Brun, of Castellane, a Provençal gentleman, and lord of the manors of Caille and of Rougon, in 1655 married a young lady called Judith le Gouche. As is common in France, and also in certain parts of Britain, this local squire was best known by the name of his estates, and was commonly termed the Sieur de Caille.
But the unprovoked insults of Madame Caille had struck deep, and, after all, she was but human. So it was that, seated at her little desk, she composed the following masterpiece of satire: CHÈRE MADAME, We send you back your cat, and the others all but one. One kitten was of a pure white, more beautiful even than its mother.
The door was opened, a search for contraband was made, the book was signed, still she did not wake. The car sped on. "You see, coming into France is a different affair," said Hanaud. "Yes," replied Ricardo. "Still, I will own it, you caught me napping yesterday. "I did?" exclaimed Ricardo joyfully. "You did," returned Hanaud. "I had never heard of the Pont de La Caille.
She was a Spanish brigantine, manned by the returning mutineers, starving, downcast, and anxious to make terms. Yet, as their posture seemed not wholly pacific, Landonniere sent down La Caille, with thirty soldiers concealed at the bottom of his little vessel.
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