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?© de, 1799-1850

"Poor Relations"


"Do not leave us thus--do not go away in anger. I have not said a word
--not I!"
At this heart-wrung speech the children fell at their father's feet.
"We all love you," said Hortense.
Lisbeth, as rigid as a statue, watched the group with a superior smile
on her lips. Just then Marshal Hulot's voice was heard in the
anteroom. The family all felt the importance of secrecy, and the scene
suddenly changed. The young people rose, and every one tried to hide
all traces of emotion.
A discussion was going on at the door between Mariette and a soldier,
who was so persistent that the cook came in.
"Monsieur, a regimental quartermaster, who says he is just come from
Algiers, insists on seeing you."
"Tell him to wait."
"Monsieur," said Mariette to her master in an undertone, "he told me
to tell you privately that it has to do with your uncle there."
The Baron started; he believed that the funds had been sent at last
which he had been asking for these two months, to pay up his bills; he
left the family-party, and hurried out to the anteroom.
"You are Monsieur de Paron Hulot?"
"Yes."
"Your own self?"
"My own self."
The man, who had been fumbling meanwhile in the lining of his cap,
drew out a letter, of which the Baron hastily broke the seal, and read
as follows:--
"DEAR NEPHEW,--Far from being able to send you the hundred
thousand francs you ask of me, my present position is not tenable
unless you can take some decisive steps to save me.


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