Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 1849
An omnibus with two white horses passed the end of the
street.
Bossuet strode over the paving-stones, ran to it, stopped
the driver, made the passengers alight, offered his hand to
‘the ladies,’ dismissed the conductor, and returned, leading
the vehicle and the horses by the bridle.
‘Omnibuses,’ said he, ‘do not pass the Corinthe. Non licet
omnibus adire Corinthum.’
An instant later, the horses were unharnessed and went
off at their will, through the Rue Mondetour, and the omni-
bus lying on its side completed the bar across the street.
Mame Hucheloup, quite upset, had taken refuge in the
first story.
Her eyes were vague, and stared without seeing anything,
and she cried in a low tone. Her terrified shrieks did not dare
to emerge from her throat.
‘The end of the world has come,’ she muttered.
Joly deposited a kiss on Mame Hucheloup’s fat, red, wrin-
kled neck, and said to Grantaire: ‘My dear fellow, I have
always regarded a woman’s neck as an infinitely delicate
t hing.’
But Grantaire attained to the highest regions of dithry-
amb. Matelote had mounted to the first floor once more,
Grantaire seized her round her waist, and gave vent to long
bursts of laughter at the window.
‘Matelote is homely!’ he cried: ‘Matelote is of a dream of
ugliness! Matelote is a chimaera. This is the secret of her
birth: a Gothic Pygmalion, who was making gargoyles for
cathedrals, fell in love with one of them, the most horrible,