read the newspapers under the arcades of the Odeon. That costs them a sou, and their good sense, and their intelligence, and their heart and their soul, and their wits.
They emerge thence, and decamp from their families.
All newspapers are pests; all, even the Drapeau Blanc!
At bottom, Martainville was a Jacobin.
Ah! just Heaven! you may boast of having driven your grandfather to despair, that you may!"
"That is evident," said Theodule.
And profiting by the fact that M. Gillenormand was taking breath, the lancer added in a magisterial manner:--
"There should be no other newspaper than the Moniteur, and no other book than the Annuaire Militaire."
M. Gillenormand continued:--
"It is like their Sieyes!
A regicide ending in a senator; for that is the way they always end.
They give themselves a scar with the address of thou as citizens, in order to get themselves called, eventually, Monsieur le Comte.
Monsieur le Comte as big as my arm, assassins of September.
The philosopher Sieyes! I will do myself the justice to say, that I have never had any better opinion of the philosophies of all those philosophers, than of the spectacles of the grimacer of Tivoli!
One day I saw the Senators cross the Quai Malplaquet in mantles of violet velvet sown with bees, with hats a la Henri IV.