The woman's nature stood revealed in all
its deformity. Chupin had good cause to feel proud of his
discernment--all his suppositions had been confirmed. He had read
Mouchon's character at a glance. He had recognized him as one of
those wily evil-minded men who employ their leisure to the profit
of their depravity--one of those patient, cold-blooded hypocrites
who make poverty their purveyor, and whose passion is prodigal
only in advice. "So he's paying his court to Madame Paul,"
thought Chupin. "Isn't it shameful? The old villain! he might at
least give her enough to eat!"
So far his preoccupation had made him forget his wine and his
cigar. He emptied the glass at a single draught, but it proved
far more difficult to light the cigar. "Zounds! this is a non-
combustible," he growled. "When I arrive at smoking ten sous
cigars, I sha'n't come here to buy them."
However, with the help of several matches and a great deal of
drawing, he had almost succeeded, when the door opened, and Madame
Paul reappeared with a letter in her hand. She seemed greatly
agitated; her anxiety was unmistakable. "I can't decide," she was
saying to Mouchon, whose figure Chupin could only dimly
distinguish in the darkness. "No, I can't. If I send this
letter, I must forever renounce all hope of my husband's return.
Whatever happens, he will never forgive me.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262