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?‰mile, 1840-1902

"The Fortune of the Rougons"

"
There was another pause.
"If it's all above board I shall have no objection," Antoine muttered,
apparently reflecting. "You know I don't want to mix myself up with your
underhand dealings."
"But there are no underhand dealings about it," Felicite resumed,
smiling at the old rascal's scruples. "Nothing can be more simple: you
will presently leave this room, and go and conceal yourself in your
mother's house, and this evening you can assemble your friends and come
and seize the town-hall again."
Macquart did not conceal his extreme surprise. He did not understand it
at all.
"I thought," he said, "that you were victorious."
"Oh! I haven't got time now to tell you all about it," the old woman
replied, somewhat impatiently. "Do you accept or not?"
"Well, no; I don't accept--I want to think it over. It would be very
stupid of me to risk a possible fortune for a thousand francs."
Felicite rose. "Just as you like my dear fellow," she said, coldly. "You
don't seem to realise the position you are in. You came to my house and
treated me as though I were a mere outcast; and then, when I am kind
enough to hold out a hand to you in the hole into which you have
stupidly let yourself fall, you stand on ceremony, and refuse to be
rescued. Well, then, stay here, wait till the authorities come back. As
for me, I wash my hands of the whole business."
With these words she reached the door.
"But give me some explanations," he implored.


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