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Updated: June 3, 2025
"You have been to see Monsieur Charnot?" "In the Rue de l'Universite. Wasn't it the simplest thing to do? Besides, I was not sorry to make the acquaintance of a member of the Institute. And I must admit that he behaved very nicely to me not a bit stuck up." "And you told him?" "My name to begin with: Brutus Mouillard.
"And cataloguing books, Monsieur Mouillard, looking through them, preserving them as far as possible from worms and readers. Don't you think that's an enviable lot?" "Yes, more so than mine has been, or my successor's will be." "By the way, uncle, you haven't told us who your successor is to be." "Haven't I, really? Why, you know him; it's your friend Larive." "Oh! That explains a great deal."
I say 'us, because one of your friends is coming, a great amateur of the rod who honors me with his friendship, too." "Who is he?" "A secret, Monsieur Mouillard, a little secret. You will be surprised. It is settled then next Sunday?" "Where shall I meet you?" "Hush, the office-boy is listening. That boy is too sharp; I'll tell you some other time."
You don't look like laughing this morning." "No, Michu, every one has his bothers, you know." "I said to myself as I looked at you just now, Monsieur Mouillard has some bother. Button up all the way, if you please, for a doctor's essay; if-you-please. It's a heartache, then?" "Something of the kind."
The dinner was capital just the kind a generous uncle will give to a blameless nephew. M. Mouillard, who has a long standing affection for chambertin, ordered two bottles to begin with. He drank the whole of one and half of the other, eating in proportion, and talked unceasingly and positively at the top of his voice, as his wont was.
Madeleine had raised her master's head and was wailing aloud. "Alas!" she said, "it's that dreadful colic he had ten years ago which has got him again. Dear heart! how ill he was! I remember how it came on, just like this, in the garden." I interrupted her lamentations by saying: "Monsieur Charnot, I think we had better take Monsieur Mouillard up to bed."
"So much the better, for I should refuse it. What do you want?" "Monsieur Mouillard, I trust that Jeanne was not present at the interview, that she heard none of it, that she was not forced to blush "
M. Mouillard, his most elementary notions of life shaken to their foundations, concludes in these words: "Fabien, I have long suspected it; some creature has you in bondage. I am coming to break the bonds! I know him well; he will be here tomorrow. May 6th. No uncle as yet. May 7th. No more uncle than yesterday. May 8th. Total eclipse continues. No news of M. Mouillard. This is very strange.
"If Mademoiselle Jeanne, in addition to all her other perfections, brings you fortune, Fabien, if your future is assured " "My dear Monsieur Mouillard," broke in the Academician with ill-concealed satisfaction. "My colleagues call me rich. They slander me. Works on numismatics do not make a man rich. Monsieur Fabien, who made some investigations into the subject, can prove it to you.
"It is a fine night," he said, simply; "let us go into the garden, and do you decide whether I can leave roses like mine." M. Mouillard took us into the garden, pleased with himself, with me, with Jeanne, with everybody, and with the weather. It was too dark to see the roses, but we could smell them as we passed.
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