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M. Gillenormand was always accompanied by his daugh-
ter, that tall mademoiselle, who was over forty and looked
fifty, and by a handsome little boy of seven years, white, rosy,
fresh, with happy and trusting eyes, who never appeared in
that salon without hearing voices murmur around him:
‘How handsome he is! What a pity! Poor child!’ This child
was the one of whom we dropped a word a while ago. He
was called ‘poor child,’ because he had for a father ‘a brig-
and of the Loire.’
This brigand of the Loire was M. Gillenormand’s son-
in-law, who has already been mentioned, and whom M.
Gillenormand called ‘the disgrace of his family.’