I know nothing about it; but what is sure
is, that, when he recovered his Senses, it was another song. He knit his
brows in a terrible manner, and said to me, with quickness, without giving
me time to answer, 'What did you come here for?--have you been a long time
here?--can I not be alone in my own house without being surrounded by
spies?--what have I said?--what have you heard? Answer, answer.' He looked
so wicked that I replied, 'I have heard nothing, sir; I just came in.' 'You
do not deceive me?' 'No, sir.' 'Well, what do you want?' 'To ask for some
signatures, sir.' 'Give me the papers.' And he began to sign--without
reading them, a half dozen notarial acts--he, who never put his flourish on
an act without spelling it, letter by letter, and twice over, from end to
end. I remarked that, from time to time, his hand slackened a little in the
middle of his signature, as if he was absorbed by a fixed idea, and then he
resumed and signed quickly, in a convulsive manner. When all were signed he
told me to retire, and I heard him descend by the little staircase which
leads from his cabinet to the court."
"I now come back to this: what can the matter be with him?"
"Perhaps he regrets Madame Seraphin."
"Oh, yes! _he_ regrets any one!"
"That reminds me of what the porter said: that the cure of Bonne-Nouvelle
and his vicar had called several times, and were not received.
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