clumsy and obvious manner, he made the solemn remark, "Sir, that was
done very awkwardly, and I feel ashamed of such clumsiness. Everything
has degenerated in this age, even the swindlers. Morbleu! a man of
my stamp ought not to be robbed in that way; I was plundered as if I
were in a wood, but badly plundered, _sylvœ sint consule dignœ!_" He
had married twice, as we said; by his first wife he had a girl, who
remained an old maid, and by the second another girl, who died at the
age of thirty, and who married through love, or chance, or otherwise, a
soldier of fortune who had served in the armies of the Republic and the
Empire, won the cross at Austerlitz, and his colonel's commission at
Waterloo. "He is the disgrace of my family," the old gentleman used to
say. He took a great dial of snuff, and had a peculiarly graceful way
of shaking his shirt-frill with the back of his hand. He believed very
little in God.
CHAPTER VII
RULE: NO ONE RECEIVED UNTIL EVENING.
Such was M. Luc Esprit Gillenormand, who had not lost his hair,
which was rather gray than white, and always wore it in dog's
ears,--altogether venerable. He was a man of the 18th century,
frivolous and great. In 1814, and the early years of the
Restoration, M. Gillenormand, who was still a youth,--he was only
seventy-four,--resided in the Rue Sirvandoni, Faubourg St. Germain.
He only retired to the Marais on leaving society, that is to say,
long after his eightieth year, and on leaving the world he immured
himself in his habits; the chief one, and in that he was invariable,
was to keep his door closed by day and receive nobody, no matter the
nature of his business, till night. He dined at five, and then his
door was thrown open; it was the fashion of his century, and he did
not like to give it up. "Day is low," he would say, "and only deserves
closed shutters." People of fashion light up their wit when the zenith
illumines its stars, and he barricaded himself against everybody, even
had it been the King; such was old-time elegance.
CHAPTER VIII.
TWO DO NOT MAKE A PAIR.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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