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CHAPTER VII
THE OLD HEART AND THE
YOUNG HEART IN THE
PRESENCE OF EACH OTHER
At that epoch, Father Gillenormand was well past his
ninety-first birthday. He still lived with Mademoiselle Gille-
normand in the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6, in the old
house which he owned. He was, as the reader will remem-
ber, one of those antique old men who await death perfectly
erect, whom age bears down without bending, and whom
even sorrow cannot curve.
Still, his daughter had been saying for some time: ‘My
father is sinking.’ He no longer boxed the maids’ ears; he
no longer thumped the landing-place so vigorously with his
cane when Basque was slow in opening the door. The Revo-
lution of July had exasperated him for the space of barely six
months. He had viewed, almost tranquilly, that coupling of
words, in the Moniteur: M. Humblot-Conte, peer of France.
The fact is, that the old man was deeply dejected. He did
not bend, he did not yield; this was no more a characteristic