— William Blake
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
…
Chapter 24 of 32
13 min read
In accordance with the hopes of old Michaud, when doing his best to bring about the marriage of Thérèse and Laurent, the Thursday evenings resumed their former gaiety, as soon as the wedding was over.
These evenings were in great peril at the time of the death of Camille. The guests came, in fear, into this house of mourning; each week they were trembling with anxiety, lest they should be definitely dismissed.
The idea that the door of the shop would no doubt at last be closed to them, terrified Michaud and Grivet, who clung to their habits with the instinct and obstinacy of brutes. They said to themselves that the old woman and young widow would one day go and weep over the defunct at Vernon or elsewhere, and then, on Thursday nights, they would not know what to do. In the mind’s eye they saw themselves wandering about the arcade in a lamentable fashion, dreaming of colossal games at dominoes.
Chapter Xxiv
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