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Updated: June 13, 2025
Choulette approached Madame Marmet, and said, gravely "Madame Marmet, is it possible for you to look at a door a simple, painted, wooden door like yours, I suppose, or like mine, or like this one, or like any other without being terror-stricken at the thought of the visitor who might, at any moment, come in? The door of one's room, Madame Marmet, opens on the infinite.
Mistrusting Madame Marmet, she slipped into her pocket the letter to Le Menil, counting on chance to throw it into a post-box. Almost at the same time Dechartre came to accompany the three friends in a walk through the city. As he was waiting he saw the letters on the tray.
Have you ever thought of that? Does one ever know the true name of the man or woman, who, under a human guise, with a known face, in ordinary clothes, comes into one's house?" He added that when he was closeted in his room he could not look at the door without feeling his hair stand on end. But Madame Marmet saw the doors of her rooms open without fear.
She lived under a charm in the dream of seeing him again, and was surprised when Madame Marmet, along the journey, said: "I think we are passing the frontier," or "Rose-bushes are in bloom by the seaside."
And she thought of leaving her at Fiesole and visiting the churches alone. Employing a word that Le Menil had taught her, she said to herself: "I will 'plant' Madame Marmet." A lithe old man came into the parlor. His waxed moustache and his white imperial made him look like an old soldier; but his glance betrayed, under his glasses, the fine softness of eyes worn by science and voluptuousness.
"I have had a wife and children; I have none now. I have known things which I know no more." Miss Bell and Madame Marmet went to look for a veil. "He has nothing in the world," thought Therese, "but his tools, a handful of nails, the tub wherein he dips his leather, and a pot of basilick, yet he is happy." She said to him: "This plant is fragrant, and it will soon be in bloom."
In my opinion he was created less for sculpture than for poetry or philosophy. He knows a great deal, and you will be astonished at the wealth of his mind." Madame Marmet approved. She pleased society by appearing to find pleasure in it. She listened a great deal and talked little. Very affable, she gave value to her affability by not squandering it.
"I have had a wife and children; I have none now. I have known things which I know no more." Miss Bell and Madame Marmet went to look for a veil. "He has nothing in the world," thought Therese, "but his tools, a handful of nails, the tub wherein he dips his leather, and a pot of basilick, yet he is happy." She said to him: "This plant is fragrant, and it will soon be in bloom."
"Oh, Madame, if I explain anything to you, it will mix up everything. Be content with knowing that in that memoir poor Marmet quoted Latin texts and quoted them wrong. Schmoll is a Latinist of great learning, and, after Mommsen, the chief epigraphist of the world. "He reproached his young colleague Marmet was not fifty years old with reading Etruscan too well and Latin not well enough.
She thought it odd that he should be jealous without having the right to be jealous; but this did not displease her. When they reached the Corso, they saw Miss Bell and Madame Marmet coming out of the dressmaker's shop. Dechartre said to Therese, in an imperious and supplicating voice: "I must speak to you. I must see you alone tomorrow; meet me at six o'clock at the Lungarno Acciaoli."
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