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"Upon my word, Madame Grandet! what will you invent next to spendmoney on? Mourning is in the heart, and not in the clothes.""But mourning for a brother is indispensable; and the Church commandsus to," human hair wigs wholesale

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"Buy your mourning out of your six louis. Give me a hat-band; that'senough for me."

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Eugenie raised her eyes to heaven without uttering a word. Hergenerous instincts, slumbering and long repressed but now suddenly andfor the first time awakened, were galled at every turn. The eveningpassed to all appearance like a thousand other evenings of theirmonotonous life, yet it was certainly the most horrible. Eugenie sewedwithout raising her head, and did not use the workbox which Charleshad despised the night before. Madame Grandet knitted her sleeves.Grandet twirled his thumbs for four hours, absorbed in calculationswhose results were on the morrow to astonish Saumur. No one came tovisit the family that day. The whole town was ringing with the news ofthe business trick just played by Grandet, the failure of his brother,and the arrival of his nephew. Obeying the desire to gossip over theirmutual interests, all the upper and middle-class wine-growers inSaumur met at Monsieur des Grassins, where terrible imprecations werebeing fulminated against the ex-mayor. Nanon was spinning, and thewhirr of her wheel was the only sound heard beneath the gray raftersof that silent hall.

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"We don't waste our tongues," she said, showing her teeth, as largeand white as peeled almonds.

"Nothing should be wasted," answered Grandet, rousing himself from hisreverie. He saw a perspective of eight millions in three years, and hewas sailing along that sheet of gold. "Let us go to bed. I will bid mynephew good-night for the rest of you, and see if he will takeanything." human hair wigs victoria

Madame Grandet remained on the landing of the first storey to hear theconversation that was about to take place between the goodman and hisnephew. Eugenie, bolder than her mother, went up two stairs."Well, nephew, you are in trouble. Yes, weep, that's natural. A fatheris a father; but we must bear our troubles patiently. I am a gooduncle to you, remember that. Come, take courage! Will you have alittle glass of wine?" (Wine costs nothing in Saumur, and they offerit as tea is offered in China.) "Why!" added Grandet, "you have got nolight! That's bad, very bad; you ought to see what you are about," andhe walked to the chimney-piece. "What's this?" he cried. "A waxcandle! How the devil did they filch a wax candle? The spendthriftswould tear down the ceilings of my house to boil the fellow's eggs."Hearing these words, mother and daughter slipped back into their roomsand burrowed in their beds, with the celerity of frightened micegetting back to their holes.

"Madame Grandet, have you found a mine?" said the man, coming into thechamber of his wife.

"My friend, wait; I am saying my prayers," said the poor mother in atrembling voice.

"The devil take your good God!" growled Grandet in reply.Misers have no belief in a future life; the present is their all inall. This thought casts a terrible light upon our present epoch, inwhich, far more than at any former period, money sways the laws andpolitics and morals. Institutions, books, men, and dogmas, allconspire to undermine belief in a future life,,a belief upon whichthe social edifice has rested for eighteen hundred years. The grave,as a means of transition, is little feared in our day. The future,which once opened to us beyond the requiems, has now been importedinto the present. To obtain /per fas et nefas/ a terrestrial paradiseof luxury and earthly enjoyment, to harden the heart and macerate thebody for the sake of fleeting possessions, as the martyrs oncesuffered all things to reach eternal joys, this is now the universalthought,a thought written everywhere, even in the very laws which askof the legislator, "What do you pay?" instead of asking him, "What doyou think?" When this doctrine has passed down from the bourgeoisie tothe populace, where will this country be?

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