ng, as happens to those great mountain dogs that are
thrown into epileptic fits of madness by the inhaling of a drop of some
essence.
"The sky is clear, the pavement dry. If you like, my dear boy, we
will send the carriage away and return on foot," said Jansoulet to his
companion as they left Jenkins's house.
De Gery accepted with eagerness. He felt that he required to walk, to
shake off in the open air the infamies and the lies of that comedy
of society which had left his heart cold and oppressed, with all his
life-blood driven to his temples where he could hear the swollen veins
beating. He staggered as he walked, like those unfortunate persons who,
having been operated upon for cataract, in the terror of sight regained,
do not dare put one foot before the other. But with what a brutal hand
the operation had been performed! So that great artist with the glorious
name, that pure and untamed beauty the sight alone of whom had troubled
him like an apparition, was only a courtesan. Mme. Jenkins, that stately
woman, of bearing at once so proud and so gentle, had no real title to
the name. That illustrious man of science with the open countenance, and
a manner so pleasant in his welcome, had the impudence thus to parade
a disgraceful concubinage. And Paris suspected it, but that did not
prevent it from running to their parties. And, finally, Jansoulet, so
kind, so generous, for whom he felt in his heart so much gratitude, he
knew him to be fallen into the hands of a gang of brigands, a brigand
himself and well worthy of the conspiracy organized to cause him to
disgorge his millions.
Was it possible, and how much of it was he to be obliged to believe?
A glance which he threw sideways at the Nabob, whose immense person
almost blocked the pavement, revealed to him suddenly in that walk
oppressed by the weight of his wealth, a something low and vulgar which
he had not previously remarked. Yes, he was indeed the adventurer
from the south, moulded of the slimy clay that covers the quays of
Marseilles, trodden down by all the nomads and wanderers of a seaport.
Kind, generous, forsooth! as harlots are, or thieves. And the gold,
flowing in torrents through that tainted and luxurious world, splashing
the very walls, seemed to him now to be loaded with all the dross, all
the filth of its impure and muddy source. There remained, then, for
him, de Gery, but one thing to do, to go away, to quit with all possible
speed this situat
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