Everything
about her person bespoke terrible reverses, borne without dignity.
Even if she had struggled at first, it was easy to see that she
struggled no longer. Her attire--her torn and soiled silk dress,
and her dirty cap--revealed thorough indolence, and that morbid
indifference which at times follows great misfortunes with weak
natures.
"Such is life," thought Chupin, philosophically. "Here's a girl
who was brought up like a queen and allowed to have her own way in
everything! If any one had predicted this in those days, how she
would have sneered! I can see her now as she looked that day when
I met her driving her gray ponies. If people didn't clear the
road it was so much the worse for them! In those times Paris was
like some great shop where she could select whatever she chose.
She said: 'I want this,' and she got it. She saw a handsome young
fellow and wanted him for her husband; her father, who could
refuse her nothing, consented, and now behold the result!"
He had lingered longer at the window than he had meant to do,
perhaps because he could see that the young woman was talking with
some person in a back room, the door of which stood open. Chupin
tried to find out who this person was, but he did not succeed; and
he was about to go in when suddenly he saw Madame Paul rise from
her seat and say a few words with an air of displeasure.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255