or the claim there and then, though with a very wry
face. And in spite of this, some people will deny that men who are
utterly cleared out, often have a stroke of luck.
THE ACCENT
It was a large, upholstered house, with long white terraces shaded by
vines, from which one could see the sea. Large pines stretched a dark
dome over the sacked facade, and there was a look of neglect, of want
and wretchedness about it all, such as irreparable losses, departures to
other countries, and death leave behind them.
The interior wore a strange look, with half unpacked boxes serving for
wardrobes, piles of band boxes, and for seats there was an array of
worm-eaten armchairs, into which bits of velvet and silk, which had been
cut from old dresses, had been festooned anyhow, and along the walls
there were rows of rusty nails which made one think of old portraits and
of pictures full of associations, which had one by one been bought for a
low price by some second-hand furniture broker.
The rooms were in disorder and furnished no matter how, while velvets
were hanging from the ceilings and in the corners, and seemed to show
that as the servants were no longer paid except by hopes, they no longer
did more than give them an accidental, careless touch with the broom
occasionally. The drawing-room, which was extremely large, was full of
useless knick-knacks, rubbish which is put up for sale at stalls at
watering places, daubs, they could not be called paintings of portraits
and of flowers, and an old piano with yellow keys.
Such is the home where she, who had been called the handsome Madame de
Maurillac, was spending her monotonous existence, like some unfortunate
doll which inconstant, childish hands have thrown into a corner in a
loft, she who, almost passed for a professional seductress, and whose
coquetries, at least so the Faithful ones of the Party said, had been
able to excite a passing and last spark of desire in the dull eyes of
the Emperor.
Like so many others, she and her husband had waited for his return from
Elba, had discounted a fresh, immediate chance, had kept up boldly and
spent the remains of his fortune at that game of luxury.
On the day when the illusion vanished, and he was forced to awake from
his dream, Monsieur de Maurillac, without considering that he was
leaving his wife and daughter behind him almost penniless, but not being
able to make up his mind to come down in the world, to vegetate, to
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