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?‰mile, 1840-1902

"Four Short Stories By Emile Zola"

Meanwhile the major, striding up and down and striking
the tables wildly with his fists, continued: "So you have become a thief
like the veriest scribbling cur of a clerk, and all for the sake of
that creature here! If at least you had stolen for your mother's sake it
would have been honorable! But, curse it, to play tricks and bring the
money into this shanty is what I cannot understand! Tell me--what are
you made of at your age to go to the dogs as you are going all for the
sake of a creature like a grenadier!"
"YOU gamble--" stammered the captain.
"Yes, I do--curse it!" thundered the major, lashed into still greater
fury by this remark. "And I am a pitiful rogue to do so, because it
swallows up all my pay and doesn't redound to the honor of the French
army. However, I don't steal. Kill yourself, if it pleases you; starve
your mother and the boy, but respect the regimental cashbox and don't
drag your friends down with you."
He stopped. Burle was sitting there with fixed eyes and a stupid air.
Nothing was heard for a moment save the clatter of the major's heels.
"And not a single copper," he continued aggressively. "Can you picture
yourself between two gendarmes, eh?"
He then grew a little calmer, caught hold of Burle's wrists and forced
him to rise.


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